Page 24 of Formula Freedom (Race Fever #3)

Reid

I unlock the apartment and push open the door with my shoulder as I shrug out of my jacket.

I don’t do ties, but the Armani gray suit I’d paired with a fitted, blue button-down underneath was sharp enough for the sponsor meetings today.

I’m late but not enough to make it a mad, hectic dash to the airport.

Meetings ran long. Sponsors wanted more face time. One last-minute interview turned into a photo op. It’s been one of those days where everyone wants something from me and all I want is five damn minutes to breathe. Preferably with Lara in the room.

The moment I step inside and see her, the tension in my neck eases.

She’s by the kitchen island, dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved fitted tee, and an effortless glow—fresh-faced and easy like the city finally agrees with her, and she hasn’t had to try at all. Her suitcase is zipped and upright beside her, ready to go.

“You’re packed,” I say, moving toward her… actually, right into her for a long kiss.

She makes no effort to break away and if we’re going to make it to the airport in time, I’ll have to be the responsible one. I press my lips to her forehead and release my hold on her. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be packed too.”

Lara follows me into the room and I grab my suitcase from the closet, tossing it on the bed. I start pulling shirts from hangers, mentally sorting what I’ll need in Japan next week for the race. I also have a partial wardrobe in my Zurich apartment, so I’m not taking too much.

“What time’s our flight?” she asks, casually sitting on the edge of the bed as I start to haphazardly roll clothes before tossing them in the suitcase.

Lara makes a distressed sound in her throat and immediately takes the garments back out, neatly folding them into perfect squares.

“We need to be at the hangar by five,” I say, taking a folded shirt she offers and placing it carefully into the suitcase under her watchful eye. “It’s a private jet, so no security line nonsense. We’ll be in Zurich by dinnertime.”

Silence. My gaze drifts over to her and she’s holding a gray cashmere sweater in a tight grip. “Private jet?”

She’s staring at me like I just told her we were going to teleport there via gold-plated unicorn.

“Uh… yeah,” I say slowly, my mouth curving into an amused smile. “It’s how I usually travel throughout Europe. Cuts down on time, especially with layovers.”

Her eyebrows rise, and I can tell she’s trying to process. “So… the gala, the Ferrari, the private jet… that’s not just for show while I’m visiting?”

I shake my head. “No. This is my life now. It’s not all champagne and rooftops, but yeah… sometimes it’s private jets and three-hundred-thousand-dollar cars. It kind of hit all at once when I signed with Matterhorn, so if it helps, this is all new to me as well.”

She lets out a soft laugh—more surprised than amused. “You’re so different from the Reid I knew.”

I move to her, closing the space between us, gently chiding her. “You know I’m not. I’m just… richer.”

“I’m sorry,” she says with a heavy sigh, folding the sweater in her hand. I take it from her and place it in the luggage. “All this wealth is just overwhelming. You know that’s not how we grew up and to suddenly see you so settled within it, it’s a little jarring.”

My brows furrow. “Do you think it changed me?”

Lara startles, adamantly shaking her head. “No, of course not. You’re still the same Reid who steals my chips when I’m not looking. I bet you still have the same playlist on your phone that you made in high school.”

She’s not wrong about that and I’m relieved that my wealth doesn’t seem to be a deal-breaker because I’d give it all away before I let her go.

“If you want to fly commercial,” I offer, “we can. We’ll have a layover in Frankfurt, so it will be about a five-hour trip.”

Lara snorts, folding a pair of jeans. “And we’ll probably have a crying baby beside us and a mystery stain on the armrest.”

“Won’t have that on the private jet,” I say with a waggle of my eyebrows. “And it will take us just over an hour. We’ll sip on wine and have a cheese plate.”

“Very bougie,” she hums with a laugh. “Fine. I’ll fly private. Twist my arm.”

I grin and return to my closet, grabbing a few more shirts and a pair of sneakers. Lara quietly folds and I sense a shift. She’s done nothing out of the ordinary, and yet I can tell something heavy is weighing on her.

Without thought, I dump the garments on the bed and take Lara’s hand.

I pull free a blue Henley from her hand, toss it on the pile of other clothes and then pull her down onto the mattress so we’re sitting side by side.

“I can tell something’s wrong that has nothing to do with how much money I make. ”

Her eyes lighten and she smiles. “I should be freaked out that you know me so well, but I’m not. I called my mum earlier.”

“All good back home?” I lace my fingers with hers, rest them on the bed between us.

“Yeah. It was a nice talk, but in the end, she told me I needed to stop putting things off. That no one could move forward—not me, not Lance, not our families—until I handled things with him.”

My spine stiffens slightly, and I angle toward her. “You called him.”

It’s not a question.

She nods. “This afternoon.”

Not sure why my heart is suddenly racing, but I can’t ignore the fact I am somewhat fearful. “How’d it go?”

She exhales, eyes on her hands. “Better than I expected. He apologized. Said he’s going to start therapy. Said all the right things. But…”

My stomach drops. He’s going to try to get her back? “But?” I push.

Her eyes lock with mine. “But it’s over. I told him that very clearly. I didn’t sugarcoat it.”

Relief swells through me, even if it’s tempered with caution. “And he accepted that?”

She hesitates. “He asked to see me. Said he’d be in Torquay in two days and wanted one last conversation. In person.”

I go still. My jaw ticks and I have to restrain myself from demanding that she never go see him, but I also know that’s not my place. Lara is her own person.

Her fingers squeeze mine and her smile is gentle. “I know you don’t like it but I’m going to have to see him sometime. We need that face-to-face so he understands it’s really over.”

“But not now,” I guess.

Shaking her head, she sighs before pushing off the bed and returning to the clothes. “No, I’m not going to Torquay. I’m committed to going to Suzuka with you, but probably after that, I’ll head back and handle it.”

I scrub a hand through my hair, pushing down the knot of dread in my chest. I don’t want her going to Torquay. I want her to stay with me in our little bubble that’s insulated from the mess of my brother.

“How did you leave it with him?” I ask.

Lara’s cheeks flush pink and she looks a little discombobulated.

“Um… I sort of panicked when he said he wanted to talk in Torquay because he thought I was there. I told him I wasn’t and he wanted to know where I was.

I panicked.” She smiles sheepishly. “And sort of told him I had to go and hung up.”

I consider what that might mean for Lance’s next move. Will he patiently wait for her to return? Will he press for her whereabouts? Or he might even try to get the information out of our parents, although they’ve agreed to stay out of it completely and won’t tell Lance that she’s with me.

What a fucking mess! I rub the back of my neck. “I’ve got a week off between Suzuka and Shanghai. I could go back to Torquay with you to talk to Lance.”

Lara shakes her head and touches my forearm. “You know I have to do this alone. This is between me and Lance.” She glances out the window, swallows hard before bringing her eyes back to mine. “And… he needs to know about us. I’ll tell him in person.”

“I don’t want you doing that alone,” I growl, pulling my arm away from her. “Last time you were alone with him, he hit you.”

Smile turning downward, she nods. “I know that scares you, but I have to do it alone. I can do it at your parents’ house or my house if that makes you more comfortable, but you cannot be there.”

“But—”

“No buts,” she says, placing a finger over my lips and staring up at me resolutely. “Just go with me on this. Once I talk to Lance, then you and I are free to…”

Her words drift and she scrunches her face as if she isn’t quite sure what we’re free to do. It’s adorable. “You and I are free to start our lives together,” I say.

Lara blinks, mouth dropping slightly open. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means we’re together, and we’ve got a lot of stuff to figure out.

I have at least one race a month, eleven months of the year.

Some months I have three races. I travel all over the world.

I have homes in Zurich and Monaco, but I’m never in one of them for long.

Which means I live out of hotels—albeit luxurious hotels—and it’s not a very stable life if you want to settle down somewhere. ”

Her teeth press down into her lower lip as she considers. “Are you asking me to travel with you?”

“Yes,” I exclaim with a little too much vigor, but she’s finally getting it. “Yes, I’m asking you to travel with me. To be with me. However it works. However we make it work.”

Her eyes search mine, wide and blinking like she’s trying to wrap her head around the speed of it all. “This is wild.”

“I know,” I say, stepping closer, threading my fingers through hers. “But Lara… we’ve been in each other’s lives forever. This isn’t some whirlwind stranger romance. You know me. I know you. And somewhere along the way, this stopped being just history and became everything I want.”

She softens at that—her eyes, her shoulders, her breath.

“You don’t have to say it back,” I add quickly. “But I love you. I mean… I’ve always loved you because you’re one of my best friends and like family, but this is a different type of love. It’s the kind where I want to make our lives together.”

Lara’s eyes well, but she doesn’t blink away the tears. “You’ve always been my person,” she whispers. “Always. And yeah, I’ve loved you for years too—it was just filed under friendship and I never questioned it.”

My throat tightens as she lifts our joined hands and presses her lips to my knuckles.

“I love you,” she says, eyes steady on mine. “And I don’t know what our life looks like or how it works, but I want it. Whatever it is. I want it with you.”

Relief floods me so hard I feel it in my knees. I pull her into my arms and kiss her—slow and sure, the kind that seems like a promise kept.

“We’re doing this,” she murmurs against my mouth.

“We’re so doing this,” I whisper back. “You and me. No matter where the road takes us.”