Page 15 of Formula Freedom (Race Fever #3)

I let out a long exhale when I’m behind the closed bathroom door.

That was a bit of a close call with her parents showing up out of the blue.

I know we agreed to keep this secret for now, but I don’t like hiding what is happening between us.

And yet, I am also well aware that tensions and emotions are high all around.

Regardless, this seems like the start of something good. Something worth protecting. Even if the next time that door opens, it could necessitate a whole lot of explaining about what Lara and I are to each other now.

?

By the time I get to the paddock, my nerves crackle with energy. Pit crews scurrying. Cameras flashing. Media crews hovering. There’s a rhythm to race day that starts slow and swells like the biggest waves I’ve ever surfed.

I’ve got a few hours until the drivers’ parade and strategy briefings. Enough time to walk the garages, shake off the nerves.

Enough time to find Carlos.

I head down the row of team trailers and find him right where I expected—leaning against the Union Jack hospitality rig with a bottle of water and a stupidly relaxed smile. He sees me coming and tips his head like I’m five minutes late for something we never scheduled.

“There he is,” he says. “The man of the hour.”

“Lex is P1,” I remind him.

Carlos shrugs. “And you’re P-dangerous. I’d say that counts for something.”

I chuckle and take the spot beside him, mirroring his lean. We stare out at the bustling paddock for a moment—engineers hustling past, VIPs being led through for their curated glimpses of our world.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, then reconsider a more truthful answer. “I think so.”

Carlos’s head snaps my way, eyebrows lifted. “You think so? Hermano, the race is in less than…” He checks his watch. “Six hours.”

I fidget with the zipper on my Matterhorn jacket. “I slept with Lara last night.”

His brows lift, but he doesn’t look surprised. “Bold move. You having morning-after regrets?”

I blow out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “No, not at all. It felt right.”

Carlos takes a sip of his water. “But something’s messing with your head. What is it?”

I glance around to make sure no one’s too close. “The timing. Her being fresh out of it with Lance. The fact that we’ve got all this family shit hanging over us and we’re keeping it secret like it’s something dirty when it’s not.”

Carlos nods, patient. “You think she regrets it?”

“No,” I say instantly. “At least I don’t think so. But… I don’t know what she wants beyond this moment. And I’m not sure I should be asking her to figure that out right now.”

“Because of Lance.”

“Because of everything,” I say, frustrated. “She’s trying to find her footing again. And I’m standing here with a full calendar, a rising career, cameras starting to follow my every move… What if the timing isn’t right? Or what if she thinks this is just a distraction for me?”

“Is it?”

I look him square in the eyes. “No. Not even close. She’s always been more than that.”

Carlos leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. “Then tell her.”

“It’s not that simple. You know the history.”

“I know you two are lifelong friends, just like she was with Lance. Were you ever more than friends?”

I suppose he needs the full picture. “I kissed her once when we were fifteen—Lance made a scene about it, said it was gross, like kissing your sister. That shut it all down. But a few years ago, after she graduated uni, we had one night. It could have been the start of something, but I backed off.”

“Why?”

“Because I was just transitioning from rally into open-wheel and I knew I couldn’t give her what she deserved. Not then. I chose racing over her.”

Carlos studies me. “And then she ended up with Lance.”

“Yeah. And I didn’t say a word. Figured maybe she was better off. At least he was stable. Settled. I buried it. All of it.”

He gives me a dry smile. “You ever think she picked him because you weren’t an option?”

That hits harder than I expected. “Yeah. I think about it all the time, especially now that I know he abused her. Did I drive her to that?”

“No, you didn’t. She’s an adult and made her own decisions.” Carlos rubs a hand over his jaw. “So now she’s here. Free. And you’re still asking if it’s the right time?”

“I’m asking if it’s fair. She’s still untangling herself from years of shit.

And I’m dragging her into something that could blow up our whole lives.

Our families are so interwoven, it complicates the shit out of things.

I’m sure everyone can get past what Lance did to her.

I mean, it won’t be the same… but I know my parents will forgive him.

I know at some point, Lara will too, and while future family get-togethers will probably never happen, everyone will pick up the pieces and move on. ”

“But if you’re with Lara…” Carlos leaves the thought dangling, ready for me to fill in my worst worry.

“Then I don’t see how our families will cope. Just imagine a big dinner at my parents’ house and I bring Lara. Lance probably wouldn’t even come, or if he did, it would be like shoving it in his face.”

“Do you care about that?”

“Fuck no,” I growl. “I’d like to shove my fist in his face. While my parents and Lara will forgive him and move on, I won’t. So, where does that leave our families? It would blow everything up if we’re together.”

Carlos shrugs. “Then it blows up. You rebuild something better.”

I snort. “You’re saying to just let it explode?”

“I’m saying quit worrying about the what-ifs and worry about keeping Lara because that’s the most important thing right now.”

I throw my hands out in frustration. “See, that’s just it. Is this something that we should be doing right now ? It’s timing, mate. I mean, for fuck’s sake, we have a race in a few hours, and I’ve got my head all twisted over this.”

“Fuck timing,” Carlos says, an uncharacteristic use of the f-bomb from him. “I’m going to tell you a story because I know a little something about timing and regrets.”

Carlos shoves his hands in his pockets. “There was a girl once. Argentina. I was there for a few weeks between test sessions. We had this… thing. You know, the kind you don’t plan, but you feel it in your bones. Like the world narrowed down to just her.”

I blink. “What was her name?”

“Isadora,” he says with a fond but regretful smile. “She asked me to stay. Meet her family. Maybe travel south with her before I went back to Europe. I said no. I had commitments. Thought maybe I’d catch her next time the stars aligned.”

He pauses, gives me a very pointed look that says You better pay attention. “But life’s not a calendar. She moved on. Got married last year. I saw it on Instagram—she was glowing. And I’m happy for her, really. But…”

He shrugs, a little too slowly. “I had my shot. I didn’t take it. Been thinking ever since—maybe that was my chance, and I just let it go.” Carlos claps me on the shoulder. “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who wants to live with maybes, Reid. So don’t.”

Someone whistles and we both turn toward the Union Jack garage. One of the engineers is waving Carlos over. He holds up one finger in return, asking for a moment.

“Point is,” Carlos drawls, as he pushes off the side of the hospitality truck, “you never get to control the timing. You only get to decide what’s worth jumping for.”

My throat tightens. “And if I screw it up?”

Carlos grins at me. “You might. But at least you won’t be sitting here ten years from now wondering what would’ve happened if you’d just said fuck it and gone all in. I know what that’s like, and it isn’t good.”

I let that sink in, heart pounding with something close to fear—but also clarity.

“Catch you on the track,” he says and starts to turn away.

“You’re kind of a philosopher, you know that, right?” I call out.

Carlos cranes his neck to look back at me. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a brand to protect.”

We both laugh and then he’s gone. As much as I enjoyed our conversation and he put things into perspective for me, I have to push it all aside and prepare for the race.

I step into the Matterhorn garage and immediately spot Felix standing with a tall guy I don’t recognize—broad shoulders with longish blond hair and a beard. He has a gold VIP lanyard around his neck, meaning he’s someone important and is going to get the white-glove treatment.

Felix turns when he sees me. “Reid—come meet our guest.”

The guy flashes a grin and extends a hand before Felix can even finish the introduction.

“Drake McGinn,” he says. “Big fan of yours. Felix was kind enough to let me sneak in, in the hopes of meeting you.”

My grip meets his—strong handshake, calloused fingers. There’s something grounded about him, even as his presence commands the room.

Then the name clicks. “Wait—Brienne Norcross’s husband?”

He chuckles. “That’s me. I usually get ‘goalie for the Pittsburgh Titans,’ but I’ll take being known as the husband of a powerhouse.”

“That’s right… you play for her hockey team in Pittsburgh.”

Drake grimaces. “I did until I injured my groin a few weeks ago. Since I’m sidelined, I figured I’d tag along with Brienne to this race.”

“Your wife’s making waves in the Formula world,” I say. “Can’t wait to see what she does with Titans Racing, but I hope it’s not treasonous for you to be over here at Matterhorn.”

Both Felix and Drake laugh. “Nah… I’ve been poking around all the garages. I got to try the impact wrench under Felix’s watchful eye. I’m not saying I stripped a bolt, but they might not let me near the tools again.”

Felix snorts. “He’s exaggerating. He’s been great.”

“I just like seeing how the other half lives,” Drake adds. “Besides, I’ve followed your career since rally. Used to binge race replays during road trips.”

That catches me off guard. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Something about a guy throwing dirt like it’s a religion just speaks to me.” His grin is genuine. “The way you handled that 2019 Targa Tasmania final—insane.”

I shake my head, completely bowled over. “Didn’t expect a hockey goalie to be a rally fan.”

“I love extreme sports,” he says. “I think in another life, I’d have raced rally. I’ve obviously gotten into Formula racing since Brienne entered this world, and I love it.”

“Well,” I say, gesturing around the garage, “this is it. Chaos, carbon fiber and the occasional miracle.”

Drake laughs. “Sounds a lot like hockey, honestly. But listen… I know you’ve got stuff to do, so I’ll let you get to it.

He sticks out his hand and we shake again. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Sure thing. You ever get to Pittsburgh and want to come see a hockey game, you look me up, okay?”

“You got it,” I assure him.

Drake leaves and Felix ushers me upstairs for some last-minute reviews of all the data we’ve acquired over the practice and qualifying rounds. The countdown is now on for the race to start.