Page 32

THIRTY-TWO

LUCAS

I only need one hand to count the number of times Charlotte’s woken before me. Scratch that. I don’t need any hands. It’s never happened. Her alarm can be blaring, and still, it takes her a minute or two to notice, after which she aggressively curses, turns off the ringing, and falls right back asleep. It’s like her brain has hardwired itself to ignore it.

“Char,” I say, gently rubbing her arm.

She harrumphs and buries her face in the pillow, hiding the text on her shirt that says Feel Le Pain with a cartoon baguette drawn underneath.

Keeping my voice soft, I add, “I’m going to breakfast with Theo.”

She cracks open an eye, looking adorably grumpy. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Do you need anything before I go?”

The duvet rustles as she rubs her legs together like a grasshopper, something she does when she’s comfortable and has no plans of moving anytime soon. “Peace and quiet.”

Chuckling, I grab my gym bag. Then I head out, closing the door quietly behind me. Theo texted me late last night asking to meet before we’re due at the track. I only saw it this morning, so I’m running a bit behind.

The café is a cozy, sunlit space with large windows letting in the morning light. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods fills the air as early risers sip their drinks at small, round tables and read the day’s newspapers. According to Charlotte, coffee is a big part of the Dutch culture and social life, so I’m not surprised by how busy it is, even given the early hour. I scan the room, spotting Theo seated at a corner table, sipping on what’s most likely a matcha latte, lost in thought. Taking a deep breath, I steel myself and make my way over.

“Hey,” I greet him, the forced casualness of my tone making me cringe.

He looks up, his expression shifting from surprise to an affability I didn’t expect. “Hey, mate. Thanks for meeting me.”

I swallow back my nerves and dip my chin. “Course. I’m glad you texted.” It isn’t until I slide into the empty seat across from him that I notice the freshly poured cappuccino with steam still rising from the top.

“I ordered for you.” He shrugs. “The line was long when I got here.”

“It’s not poisoned?” I ask, lifting a brow.

He rolls his eyes. “No. And there’s no need for me to give you any sort of big brother ‘if you break her heart, I’ll kill you’ speech since Charlotte would just do it herself. Wouldn’t be surprised if she took up tennis or golf simply so she’d have something to whack your balls with after cutting them off.”

I let out a strangled laugh. He’s right, but I have no intention of letting her go, so I’m not concerned about the state of my dick. I pick up the cup and take a small sip, savoring the flavor. America really needs to up their coffee game. The beans and blends I’ve sampled in every European country I’ve visited have floored me.

Theo places his own mug on the table, rests his elbows on either side of it, and steeples his hands like we’re about to enter into negotiations. “I’m sure Charlotte told you that I’m not going to apologize for punching you, but?—”

“Wait, what?” I interrupt him. “When did you talk to Charlotte?”

“I stopped by your room last night to talk, but you were already asleep,” he explains. “Lottie didn’t tell you?”

I raise a brow. “The most Charlotte says before ten a.m. is ‘turn off your fucking alarm’ and ‘I need coffee or I’m going to perish.’”

“Sounds about right,” Theo says, chuckling. “Anyway, I told her I wasn’t sorry for tackling you, but I am sorry about how we left things before break. It sucked, being called out for being so selfish, especially with my sister. But what you said made me realize how good you are for her. She needs someone in her corner, someone who has her back no matter what, and you proved that when you chose her.”

“I’ll aways choose her,” I say, the admission simple but unwavering. “She’s it for me, man.”

He studies me, his blue eyes searching for a chink in my armor, but I can guarantee he won’t find one. Eventually, he cracks a small smile and says, “Good. Blake’s going to be super happy we worked things out. It’d be really awkward for him if his two future best men were fighting, you know?”

I can’t help but chuckle. As chaotic and immature as my best friend can be at times, he only needed a month to come to terms with me dating his sister, while it took me three years to finally move on after I discovered Jesse was dating my ex.

“I hate to break it to you, but I think Blake’s going to ask Ella’s brother to be his best man.” As much as I don’t want to throw Blake under the bus, redirecting Theo’s energy works in my favor so… oops .

Right on schedule, he slams his hands against the table and gasps. “He’s what ? But we’re his best friends. ”

“Yeah, but Tyler’s going to be his brother-in-law,” I point out, picking up my coffee. After another sip, I add, “And they’re also good friends.”

Theo’s pout slowly morphs into a mischievous smile. The expression immediately sets me on edge. Nothing good has ever come from a grin like that. “If you’re my future brother-in-law and friend, that means I get dibs on being your best man, right? You are marrying my sister, after all. It only makes sense that Blake will have to be a regular groomsman.”

Sighing, I shake my head. Only Theo would turn wedding parties into a competition. Not wanting to agree to anything that may bite my ass later down the line, I simply remind him that I have four brothers to consider. He scoffs and waves the response off like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“We don’t count Jesse, so that’s technically only three,” he argues, waving his hands animatedly. “And it’d be rude to choose between the rest of them, so to avoid conflict, it’s in your best interest to choose me.”

I lower my head and laugh. “I’m glad you’ve moved on from pissed that I’m dating Charlotte to so happy I’m dating Charlotte that you’re already jockeying for position of best man at our future wedding.”

Theo shrugs. “Is that a yes?”

“Jesse and I talked over break,” I tell him.

As I hoped, his attention is once again diverted. Between one blink and the next, he’s laser-focused on needing every detail of our conversation, including what I was wearing when it went down. Apparently, this helps him “set the scene.” I fill him in on the visit from my brothers, my talk with Jesse, and how we’ve been casually texting to stay in touch. We’re by no means back to how we were a few years ago, but we’re making progress.

“Does this mean I can talk to him again, too?” Theo asks, hands splayed on the table. “Because I’ve been dying for his help to unlock some cheat codes in this new video game I’ve been playing.”

I shrug. “Go for it.”

He grins. “I’m happy for you.”

I take a sip of my drink. “We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for, but I feel good about how?—”

“Not about Jesse,” he quickly corrects me. “I mean, yes, about Jesse; I think it’s good that you two are working things out. I know you’ve missed him. But I mean about finding your person.”

“Yeah?” I ask, lifting a brow, my heart lifting in a similar manner.

“Yup,” he confirms. “Especially because it means I get to be your kid’s godparent and uncle, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I slump into my chair and choke out a laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re family. Always have been, and now always will be.”

The roar of the engine is deafening, but the packed crowd’s cheering filters through it as I activate DRS, which opens a flap on my car’s rear wing to reduce drag levels, on the straight. My car immediately picks up speed, along with my heart rate. Then I’m passing Blake’s car and taking the lead with only a few laps left in the race.

“Great job pushing.” David’s voice crackles through the radio in my ear, calm but firm. “Just two more laps after this.”

Too focused on keeping my pace outside of the straight, pushing my car to its limits, I don’t reply. Two more laps. Two more chances to make sure I keep this lead. The gap isn’t big, and one mistake could cost me everything.

My grip on the steering wheel is so tight that my knuckles ache. As I take another corner at a blistering speed, sweat slicks my gloves, and every muscle in my body is taut, the adrenaline coursing through me. The tires are barely holding on, the grip fading with every turn, but I can’t afford to change pace now.

I focus on the track ahead, the world narrowing to just the asphalt and the sound of my own breathing. The car shudders as I push it harder, every jolt vibrating through me as I barrel down the straights and carve through the corners.

The grandstands are a blurry sea of colors and waving flags as I fly by. That’s okay. I only have eyes for one spot—one person. Even though I can’t see Charlotte from here, I know exactly where she is, cheering me on. She’s been here for every race, every win, and every loss. I can feel her with me now, urging me forward.

The last few corners come up fast, and I take them almost perfectly, the car sliding a fraction, but not enough to slow me. The tires are screaming now, begging for mercy, but I can’t relent. Not yet. I can see the checkered flag in the distance, waving like a beacon.

The moment I cross the finish line, the world around me explodes. The roar of the crowd is deafening, a mix of cheers and air horns. But all I can hear is the sound of my own breath catching in my throat. I’ve done it. I’ve won.

But I’m not done yet.

I bring the car to an abrupt stop, the brakes locking up as I pull into the pit lane. The team is there, cheering and clapping, but I barely register them as I jump out of the car and yank off my helmet, then stride in her direction.

With every step I take as I push through the crowd, my pulse quickens. My team tries to catch up, to congratulate me, but without stopping, I vault over the barrier to where she’s standing next to Mitchell and a few engineers.

When I reach her, I pull her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I can. I only release her when she wiggles in my hold. I’m still in my race suit, and Charlotte may love me, but she doesn’t love any sort of sweat, and after two hours in a racecar, I’ve got plenty of it.

“You did it,” she says, a mile-wide smile on her face. “Not that I doubted you, but wow, those last few laps were stressful.”

“I know. I was there,” I tease, elation still coursing through me.

She playfully rolls her eyes and, squinting over my shoulder, waves her hand at someone in a come here motion.

Theo appears at my side a moment later, knowing better than to even attempt to hug his sister. “Great race, mate. Kicked Blake’s arse,” he says, slapping me on the back. Then he adds, “Um, what the fuck are you wearing, Lottie?”

Defensiveness surges inside me. I’m ready to rip into him until I realize that Charlotte’s changed into a punny shirt; one I’ve never seen before. It says Hopeless Bromantic across the chest with a photo of Theo and me screen-printed beneath.

“Isn’t it cute?” she asks, dimples winking as she grins. “I thought it’d be funny. I thought making light of things would help with any lingering tension. You know. Since it’s the first race after break. I don’t know. It was probably silly of me. I shouldn’t have worn it. I?—”

Cupping her face, I dip down and press my lips against her forehead. What I really want to do is pull her closer, then tangle my hands in her hair, just enough to make her gasp so I can slip my tongue into her mouth. But although I’m not planning to play down our relationship in front of Theo, I won’t rub it in his face and make him uncomfortable with any major public displays of affection. And making out with Charlotte until she’s dragging me up to our hotel room may cross that line.

“It’s epic,” Theo reassures her. “Do you have extras? I’d for sure wear this to interviews.”

I give him a subtle nod, and a flicker of understanding passes between us. He may be her brother, but I’m her partner, and until the day I can no longer physically or mentally take care of her, she’ll be top priority. That includes her feelings, and if he upsets her, whether over a shirt or something bigger, I’ll have her back.

“He’s right,” I tell her. “It’s great, baby.”

She flushes. “It’s just a shirt. No big deal.”

I shake my head. “I mean thank you for being you. I’ve been to over fifty countries, but I’ve never felt more at home than I do when you’re around.”

A slow, uncharacteristically shy smile stretches across her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Racing may be my passion, but thanks to Charlotte Walker’s infectious laugh and dimpled smile, it’s no longer my life. She is.