Page 12

I told Jacob I loved him once before, but it didn’t count.

We’d been together for about four months, and I was still amazed at how easy it was to be with him. I didn’t have to pretend

to be chatty or funny or clever. For whatever reason, he found me interesting just the way I was. He told me that all the

time, always prompted by the most random things, like when he saw the way I arranged Nespresso pods (in a spiral on the center

of my kitchen table—don’t ask why, I just liked the way it felt taking one after another, watching the spiral grow smaller),

or when he found out I donated two thousand dollars a month to the animal shelter down the street from my house.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said that day, scrubbing a hand over my head and turning to the sink to wash out my coffee mug. “They

need money for food and stuff.”

It was the middle of the week, and he was staying at my house between race weekends. He claimed it was because some of his

friends were in London, but it had been two days and he had yet to go out to see them.

He breathed out a laugh. “Stop being so fucking brilliant, will you?”

He came up behind me as he said it and wrapped his arms around my chest. He pressed his mouth to the back of my neck, and

even after four months together, that single, casual touch made my pulse change.

“It’s really not a big deal,” I repeated, embarrassed.

I’d always felt sort of weird about money. My father’s business had made him reasonably wealthy, but he’d grown up poor and

had strong opinions about people who spent money wastefully. He left me a good chunk of money when he died, but I put it in

a separate bank account without touching it. It would have felt too weird to spend it, like I was profiting off his death,

or something. I didn’t really need it, anyway, since I started F1 the year he died. My contract with Torrent was pretty big—my

manager got a bidding war going between them and a few other teams—and after my first year in F1, I bought my London townhouse

and a vintage Porsche. After that, money just built up pointlessly in my bank account. I didn’t care about fancy clothes or

private planes or anything like that, and the only real traveling I did was for races, which was paid for by the team.

I was going to say something about the donations to the animal shelter being self-serving, since I liked walking the dogs

there, but I was distracted by the slide of Jacob’s hand down my chest, and the warm press of another kiss to the back of

my neck. A second later, his teeth grazed my skin, and a pulse started up deep inside of me.

“You’re going to be late,” I pointed out. He was supposed to be heading out for a run with one of his friends.

I felt him shrug. “So, I’ll be late.”

One of his hands slid lower, his fingers deftly undoing the front of my jeans.

He rose on his toes to fit his mouth over my earlobe, a weakness I never would’ve guessed I would have.

All of five minutes later, I was panting and clutching the edge of the counter, his breath hot and heavy on the back of my neck.

I came with his hands on me, and his mouth on my skin, and when I turned around to return the favor, it only took a few strokes before he was shuddering and crying out.

“ Fuck ,” he breathed, dropping his forehead against my shoulder. He stayed like that for a few seconds, his chest rising and falling.

Then he let out an incredulous, almost frustrated laugh. “You’re so hot.”

It almost sounded like a complaint, or an accusation. I’d heard the tone before, and I couldn’t help associating it with an

offhand comment he’d once made about how he never dated guys. “Not my thing,” he said. I think what he meant was, he didn’t

want anyone to know he was bi. I understood that—the last thing I wanted was for anyone to find out I was gay—but I was way

too into Jacob to let that stop me. And I liked being the first guy to make him break his rule.

“And you’re gorgeous,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so cheesy.” He laughed and batted me away when I tried to kiss him again. “I have to go change.”

I watched him walk away, loving him so much I couldn’t stand it. I grabbed his water bottle and filled it up for him, and

all the while I was psyching myself up. I drove cars at two hundred miles an hour, for fuck’s sake. I could tell Jacob that

I loved him.

He came back to the kitchen dressed in his running clothes, then disappeared into the entranceway for a minute.

I snatched a quick, steadying breath. I could do this.

He reappeared with his iPhone and earphones in hand and took his water bottle from me with a grin.

“See you later.”

“See you.” I stared down at my hands, clenched tightly around the edge of the marble countertop. I told myself again, I could

do this. I took a breath, forced down my fear, and pushed the words out. “Love you.”

It was a bit of a cop out, “love you” instead of “I love you,” as though dropping the “I” made it less life-changing, somehow.

I looked up at Jacob, my heart in my throat, to see him pulling one earphone out of his ear.

“Sorry?”

My stomach plummeted. He hadn’t heard me. I could hear the tinny music blaring out of his earphone.

“Nothing,” I blurted out. “Just saying bye.”

He grinned at me like I was being a weirdo. “Bye.”

Then he was out the door.

I dropped my forehead to the countertop and thought, Fuck.