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London to Albuquerque? The quickest journey has three separate stops, and none of the flights have any seats left in business

class. The press and fan attention have gotten pretty intense over the past year, and the last thing I want to do is sit on

a plane with a bunch of people staring at me.

Sighing, I do what I always do when I run into a problem I can’t solve. I text Heather.

You up?

She texts back a few seconds later. Yeah, but I’m not interested in a booty call.

***

“You up” is a booty call text.

Ah. Good to know. This is not a booty call text, though.

Darn. What’s up?

Can you get me a private flight somewhere?

Depends. Is that “somewhere” Albuquerque, New Mexico?

... Maybe.

There’s a pause, then a ding.

Give me thirty minutes.

I really don’t know how I functioned before Heather. She arrives the next day at noon to pick up Morocco and send me off to

the private flight she’s arranged.

“I am literally your mother ,” she complains as she repacks my bag. Apparently, everything I packed was wrong.

“You love it,” Matty grumbles from his position on the couch.

Heather grins. She sort of does. She buys all my clothes now, too. I didn’t ask her to, she just started doing it one day.

She says it’s like having a full-sized Ken doll, which is extremely weird. But I like the stuff she buys, so I don’t argue

with her.

“Wear this shirt when you go see Jacob, yeah?” She waves a gray T-shirt at me. “And that black jacket I got you.”

“What are you going to say to him?” Matty asks me.

“I don’t know.”

“You need a strong opening line,” he says. “Like, ‘Yo, asshole, what has two thumbs, an F1 championship, and doesn’t give

a shit what you think of him? This guy .’?” He points both his thumbs at his chest. “Then just drop a mic and drive away.”

Heather rolls her eyes. “So, in this scenario, he’s brought his own mic with him?”

“Obviously.”

“What if he wants the mic back afterward, though?” Heather asks. “Like if it’s an expensive mic, should he ask Jacob to post

it in the mail afterward, or—?”

“What’s your suggestion, then?” Matty says.

She shrugs. “Just tell him how you feel.” She hesitates. “But don’t let him brush you off. And make sure you hold him accountable

for all the stupid shit he did.”

Okay, I seriously regret telling Heather so much about our relationship. She pointed out that a lot of the time, when I thought

Jacob was just being normal, and that the issue was that I wasn’t used to relationships or that I was being too demanding,

Jacob was sort of being... intentionally dismissive. He should have thanked you for that racing sim , she said once. And he should have gotten you a damn Christmas present.

Personally, I think it was more complicated than that. But I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

The private plane is so expensive and fancy, I feel guilty, but it is nice to know I’ll get to Albuquerque in way less than eighteen hours.

The flight attendant is a nice guy who asks me to sign his Harper T-shirt and then brings me some food and leaves me alone to watch movies on my laptop.

An hour in, I ask if he wants to watch with me, because it seems pointless for him to just stand there waiting to see if I need anything.

We make it through Die Hard (Matty’s recommendation) and Moana (Hunter’s recommendation) before we land. The pilot asks me when I think I’ll want to head back.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Might only be a couple hours.”

“No problem. We’ll refuel now, and you just text whenever you want to go.”

“Thanks,” I say. “You can pick the movies on the way back,” I add to Joey, the flight attendant.

The car Heather rented for me is waiting. She also managed to get me Jacob’s address, and I’m honestly not sure how. She just

said “Ways and means” when I asked. I swear she has secret connections in every team in motorsport.

I put the address into the GPS and head off. I should get a hotel room to shower in, but I can’t be bothered. Jacob has seen

me looking way worse than this. And now that I’m here, I just want to get it over with. Rip the Band-Aid off.

My stomach is a cold, anxious knot the whole way there. It’s an hour from the airport, which gives me just enough time to

envision every possible worst-case scenario.

It’s late morning when I finally get there. Jacob’s parents live in a really fancy, really creepy-looking suburb. All of the

houses look almost identical, and all the streets have basically the same name. Grace Haven Road, Grace Haven Crescent, Grace

Haven Lane... the postal service workers must need a drink delivering mail here. Even the GPS seems confused once we pass

through the gates.

I finally track down the right house and step out into the cold, dry air. I’m not wearing the gray shirt Heather told me to wear, but I do pull on the black jacket. The temperature isn’t that low, but it’s the kind of cold that cuts right through you. I can’t imagine how Jacob stands it.

I walk past a garden flag that says “GIVE GOD YOUR WEAKNESS AND HE’LL GIVE YOU HIS STRENGTH,” rub my palms on my jacket, and

ring the doorbell. After a few agonizing moments, the door swings open.

My heart sinks. It’s Jacob’s mother.

I probably should have realized that might happen, considering it’s his parents’ house.

I swallow nervously. “Hi, ma’am. I don’t know if you remember me—”

“I do.” Her voice is clipped and cool.

“Right. Sorry. I was just wondering—”

“Jacob’s not here.”

My heart sinks a little further. “Oh. Is he... will he be back soon?”

“He’s in London,” she says. “Visiting his old girlfriend.”

It feels like she’s kicked me in the chest. The old girlfriend part would be bad enough, but he’s in London .

He’s in London and he didn’t even tell me.

His mother moves to close the door, but I take a half step forward. “Are you able to give me his address there? I need to

speak with him.”

She stares at me for a moment, then lets out a disbelieving breath and looks to the side. “This isn’t appropriate.”

I narrow my eyes. I really don’t like this woman. “Okay,” I say flatly. “Sorry to bother you.”

I turn and walk away, but I only make it a few steps before she speaks again.

“He’s finally happy again,” she says. “After everything that horrible sport did to him—after everything you did”—her voice is tight with anger—“he’s finally himself again.

How dare you show up here and try to take that all away? ”

I keep walking. A year ago, I might’ve cared about her disapproval. But if Matty and Heather and Hunter have taught me anything,

it’s that some people are great, and other people are shit. And Jacob’s mother is one of the shit ones. I’m not going to waste

my time arguing with her.

“How dare you,” she repeats, her voice wavering. “You show up here, trying to—to intimidate me—”

I glance over my shoulder. There are two red spots on her cheeks and tears in her eyes, and she’s fanning herself rapidly

with one hand like the stress of dealing with me—the intimidating thug who knocked politely on her door and asked her two

reasonable questions—is too much for her to handle.

I roll my eyes. “Who is this performance for? Stop behaving like a child.”

Her mouth drops open in furious shock. I get in my car and drive away before she can recover the power of speech. When I look

back in my rearview, she’s still standing in the exact same spot. I feel a little surge of satisfaction. Matty would want

me to drop a mic right around now.

The adrenaline rush wears off pretty quickly, though. I text the pilot to see how soon we can leave, and wind up grabbing

food at a diner to kill time while they finish refueling. All of my muscles feel heavy and dull.

I am glad Jacob is doing better. I’m glad he’s well enough to be visiting London.

It just really hurts that he went to London without telling me. Really, really hurts.

In a way, it’s the sign I’ve been looking for. I don’t have to wonder anymore. He’s better now, and he’s in London, and he’s

visiting an ex-girlfriend instead of me. I came here looking for an answer from him, and now I’ve got it.

Time to move on.