20

ALEXANDER

T he race was in a few hours, and here I was, sitting in one of the side rooms, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. I had this strange tightness in my chest, like something was suffocating me from the inside out. I wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it felt…wrong. Like I was on the edge of a cliff, just waiting for everything to fall apart.

I wasn’t usually like this. I was Alexander Wright, five-time World Champion, the guy who could shake off a crash like it was nothing. But this…this was different. It was about Lucia, about Gianna, about the text from her ex, the ever present missing my dad. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. I had called Dante right away, asked him to track the bastard and get a tail on him immediately. When Lucia had moved home, when she found out she was pregnant, I had gone into overdrive. Dante had sent someone to get the asshole to sign over full custody. The papers were delivered right to her family’s vineyard as soon as they could be. It was one small thing, one small thing I hadn’t told anyone I was involved in, but it was something I could do, something I could help with.

I felt like I needed to control everything today, but I couldn’t. The team was counting on me. Belen Racing was counting on me. What if I couldn’t pull it off?

I glanced at my hands, which were gripping the sides of the couch as though I could hold on to something, anything, that would steady me. I rubbed my face. I didn’t even know what I was feeling. Was it just stress, or was it something else entirely? Why wouldn’t my brain shut up and my heart calm down?

No one ever warned me that racing would involve this kind of mental gymnastics. Or that I’d care so damn much about someone other than myself. I mean, this thing with Lucia—it had started out as a fake-dating gig, right? Help her out, look good for the cameras, smooth over some of the media drama. But now? Now it felt like I was keeping her and her daughter in a safe bubble, and my head was spinning with the need to protect them. Especially from that bastard of an ex who thought he could mess with their lives again. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

But I couldn’t control everything. That much was clear.

The door to the room opened quietly, and I didn’t even look up at first. My hands were shaking now, my breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts. I could feel the haze creeping in, and I had no idea how to make it stop.

“Alex?”

I blinked, and there she was—Lucia. Her brow furrowed as she took a couple of quick steps toward me. Her eyes were sharp, assessing. She must’ve known something was wrong because the moment she saw me, her face shifted from concern to urgency.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Her voice was calm, but I could hear the worry in it.

I tried to speak, to tell her that it was fine, that I was fine, but nothing came out. My mouth was dry, and my chest tightened even more.

“I can’t…” I stammered, running a hand through my hair, feeling a wave of dizziness. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I just…feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Okay,” she said softly but firmly, kneeling in front of me. “Just breathe, Alex. Focus on me. Let’s slow it down.”

I closed my eyes for a second, trying to focus on her voice, on her presence.

“Can you hear the hum of the lights above us?” she asked, gently placing her hand on my knee.

I nodded, trying to tune in to anything that would help me ground myself.

“Good,” she encouraged. “Now look around. What do you see?”

I glanced up, trying to focus. “A couple of chairs…a table…the door…the clock.”

“Great,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “Now, can you smell anything?”

“Uh…the cleaner in the hallway. And…coffee. Maybe? From the other room?”

She nodded, her calmness settling over me like a warm blanket. “Okay. You’re doing great. We’re just focusing on the little things. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

It took a few more seconds, but slowly, I started to feel the pressure lift. My breathing slowed, and the dizziness started to fade.

“I—I don’t know what happened,” I muttered, running a hand over my face. “I just…everything’s…it’s not in my control. I hate it.”

Lucia reached out and cupped my face gently, her thumb brushing over my cheek. “It’s okay. You’re doing your best, Alex. You’re going to do great out there today. You’re scoring high, I can feel it. And Belen Racing? They’re going to see just how important you are. They’ll come through for you. I know it.”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. She was right, of course. I knew what I was capable of. I focused one her, on my sunshine girl, the one who showed up for me, who showed up for everyone when they needed it.

“Just breathe with me. I know it seems silly, but focus on my breath and try to match it, okay?” she said gently. So I focused on her, on the soft rise and fall of her chest. I matched her breath for breath. I leaned into her touch, feeling a little calmer, more grounded than I had in the last few minutes.

“Thanks,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “How do you know how to do that?”

She smiled softly, brushing her thumb across my lips. “I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks.”

“A panic attack?” My eyes widened and she nodded.

“Feeling like you can’t breathe, feeling out of body and out of control?” Her voice was soft as she asked, and it all resonated; it was exactly how I was feeling. So I nodded, feeling the weight on my chest ease. Slowly, I stood, my legs a little shaky, but the haze had passed.

“Right,” I said, pulling myself together.

Lucia stood, her hand slipping into mine, and I felt a small rush of gratitude. It wasn’t just about the race, not anymore. It was about her, about Gianna, and about the weird, inexplicable way they’d become the most important part of my life. I wanted to do it for them, to make Gianna proud.

* * *

My head was still cloudy. Even as the race began, I felt…off. The sensation hadn’t completely worn off—the tightness in my chest was still there, and my grip on the steering wheel felt wrong, loose. It wasn’t how I was used to feeling on the track. Normally, everything was precise, controlled. But today, it felt like I was trying to keep a hundred different things from slipping through my fingers at once. I hadn’t had a panic attack before, or maybe I didn’t know I was having them. It felt like this whole new thing I now had to figure out.

The lights went out, and I pushed forward with every intention to get ahead, to make up for lost time. I tried to focus, tried to shake off the fog that clung to me like a shadow. But it wasn’t just the car—it was everything. My mind wouldn’t settle, my body wasn’t responding right, and the track…the track felt like it was moving too fast.

I took the first turn too aggressively, my grip still off. The car slid, and I barely corrected it in time. It wasn’t pretty. I was already trying to claw my way up, but the sharp turns and tight corners made it harder. I wasn’t doing enough, I knew it.

“Come on, come on…” I muttered to myself, pushing harder than I should have.

“Push, push,” my engineer’s voice crackled through the radio, tight with concern. My teeth gritted, but I didn’t ease off. Not yet. I needed to get ahead.

Another turn came, this time a sharp left, and I didn’t adjust quickly enough. I misjudged the angle and felt the back end of the car slip. I tried to correct, but the steering didn’t feel responsive. There was a sickening moment where the tires lost grip entirely, and before I could react, the car veered off track.

“Shit—no!” I cursed, the tires screeching as I tried to regain control. My vision blurred as I felt the car fishtail, sliding uncontrollably.

The impact was jarring. The world tilted sideways. My body jerked with the force, my neck snapping as the car crumpled against the barriers, and I felt a sickening crunch of metal. I gripped the steering wheel harder, but it didn’t matter. The car was out of control.

The world around me felt like it was moving in slow motion. My heart raced in my chest, pounding with adrenaline, and a sharp, searing pain shot through my body. Panic clawed at me, but I forced myself to stay calm.

“Alex, do you copy? Alex, are you okay?”

The voice came through my radio, but it felt distant. The haze was creeping in.

“I’m okay,” I grunted, though my words didn’t feel convincing, even to me. The adrenaline was rushing through my veins, but I knew something wasn’t right. The pain in my neck, the dizziness, the headache…I had to focus, had to make sure everything was still working.

The aid car arrived quickly, and the medics rushed to check on me. Their faces were blank, but I could tell they were worried. I forced myself to sit still as they checked my vitals, making sure nothing was broken. I wanted to be angry, to get back out there, but the fog in my mind made it hard to concentrate. The dizziness lingered, and the pain in my neck felt like a dull throb. I had to close my eyes for a second, just to breathe. I focused on the sounds, the smells like Lucia had done with me earlier, and the haze began to lift.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Alex,” the medic said, though I could tell he wasn’t entirely sure. They helped me into the aid car, and I let myself be driven back to the garage, the low hum of the engine doing little to calm my racing thoughts.

As the car pulled into the garage, my mind still felt like it was underwater. My focus was blurry, but I couldn’t shake the thought of what I’d just done—or how stupid I’d been to push that hard. The team was going to be pissed.

But then, I saw her.

Lucia.

She was standing at the edge of the garage, her eyes wide with worry, her face pale. And as soon as the aid car came to a stop, she was running toward me.

I could barely make sense of the scene. My body was stiff as I climbed out of the car, but all I could focus on was her—her hands reaching for me, her face full of concern.

“Alex!” she cried, her voice shaking.

She reached me in an instant, her hands gripping my face with such urgency, such tenderness, that it felt like a shock to my system. She looked me over, her eyes searching for any sign of injury, her fingers brushing against my jaw.

“You’re okay?” she asked, her voice breaking as she searched my face, her touch gentle but firm.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I muttered. I could see the worry in her eyes, and it hit me harder than I thought possible.

But what really knocked me sideways was the realization that, in that moment, it wasn’t just concern. It was something deeper, something that went beyond the surface.

No one had ever cared for me this way. Not like this.

Her hands were still on my face, holding me steady. I just let myself feel the weight of it—the connection between us, raw and real.

“I’m fine,” I said again, quieter this time, my voice softer.

“Please, don’t ever do that again,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her hands lingered, tracing my features gently, her touch a lifeline in the chaos of everything.

I could see the worry, the fear in her eyes, and I hated that I had put her through it.

“I’m okay,” I promised, my voice thick, the words harder to get out than they should have been. I couldn’t help but pull her closer, needing to be near her. I didn’t want to lose her. I didn’t feel invincible, not when I had someone waiting for me at the end of the track.