Page 30 of Formula Freedom (Race Fever #3)

Lara

T hursday morning dawned and I felt suffocated, so I went for a run. I’ve just come back from a route along the cliffside path, my lungs tight and my thoughts tangled. The sea air didn’t help as much as I had hoped and I’m missing Reid like I’ve never missed anything before.

I pull out my earbuds and find the house quiet when I step inside.

My dad’s already at work and Mum’s at the market picking up ingredients for dinner.

I checked with Graham and Leanne again this morning before I left for my run—still no sign of Lance.

They promised to call the moment he turned up, but at this point, I’m starting to think my desire to get this all handled is going to be a bust.

I grab a tall glass, fill it to the brim with ice and water, and drink it in long, greedy gulps. My mind isn’t preoccupied with Lance’s failure to show so much as Reid being in Suzuka by himself. He’s giving me space and respect for my decision to handle this, but I also know he’s hurt by it.

For that, I can’t blame him. I’d promised I would go to Suzuka. Instead, I flew back to my ex. He has the right to be hurt I’m not there.

I think what breaks my heart even more is knowing that he’s in distress because he’s not here with me. He’s being protective, which I appreciate, but he absolutely cannot afford to be distracted. In his line of work, one slipup could mean serious injury or death.

The few days away from our cocoon we’d been living in is making it seem like we’re drifting—not emotionally, not really—just paused.

A surge of anger hits me, because Lance doesn’t have the decency to come meet me to talk about things. I’ve texted him and so have his parents. He’s not responded to any of us.

But I don’t have to stay here if I don’t want to.

Why should I when he can’t even be bothered?

My phone’s already in hand when I drop into the kitchen chair, fingers pulling up my airline app.

I scroll through flights to Japan, weighing my options.

I could give Lance one more day and then fly out.

I’d make it in time for the practice sessions and Reid would be surprised but thrilled.

It would mean walking away from this half-finished chapter with Lance, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve closure.

My thumb hovers over a direct flight option when the sharp knock hits the door.

Once.

Twice.

Then three more times in quick, impatient succession. Too firm to be friendly. Too early for delivery.

Somehow, before I even reach the front door my stomach twists into a hard knot. I know who it is before I open it, but I confirm by looking through the peephole first.

As anticipated, it’s Lance and he looks like hell.

His eyes are bloodshot, his jaw unshaven, and the clothes he’s wearing are wrinkled and rumpled, like he hasn’t slept in them so much as existed in them. His hair is flattened on one side and wild on the other.

I’d hoped we’d talk later today—over at his parents’ house, maybe with someone around to help keep things civil. I had not envisioned he would seek me out. Not like this. Not on my parents’ porch while they’re both gone.

My heart thuds against my ribs and I embrace the fear. I hate that I even have it, but yeah… I’m afraid of him. He looked unhinged in Zurich, and I realize I don’t trust him at all.

The wisest thing to do would be to ignore him and hope he goes away. I can catch up with him later over at the Hemsworths’ home.

But I think about Reid, without me in Suzuka, and my pressing need to close this chapter of my life pulls forth a reserve of courage.

And it may be stupidity, but I open the main door while holding the screen shut with one hand. “Lance,” I say carefully and his eyes lock onto mine through the mesh. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t expecting a lot of things.” His voice is rough, like gravel. “But here we are.”

I flush with guilt but swallow it down. You’ve done nothing wrong, Lara.

Unless you count moving on with your ex-fiancé’s brother mere days after you broke off the engagement.

I should make him leave and set up a time we can talk. But he’s here right now, and this can all end. I can fly to Japan and be with Reid.

I glance past Lance, scanning the street. No car. He must’ve walked. He shifts on the step and my stomach flutters with nerves. He’s twitchy. Jumpy.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

I don’t want to do this alone but he’s already here. And as much as I don’t feel threatened exactly… there’s a tightness under my ribs that hasn’t been there since the night I left him.

Maybe against my better judgment, I unhook the latch and push the door open. “Just to talk.”

He stares at me and I wonder what’s so difficult about the boundary I’ve set… just to talk. But he eventually nods and brushes past me, into the living room like he owns it. Like nothing’s changed. I leave the door slightly ajar—just in case.

Lance stands in the middle of the room, glancing around like he half expects someone else to be here. His shoulders are rigid, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

He turns on me with a sharp pivot, his eyes wild and bloodshot. “So… you and Reid?”

The air between us tightens, like the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. I don’t flinch. I lift my chin slightly, keeping my voice even. “Yes.”

Something flickers across his face—shock at my refusal to be ashamed, then betrayal, and finally the simmering rage I recognize all too well.

A muscle jumps in his jaw, taut as a wire.

His hands fist at his sides, and I can see the whites of his knuckles standing out stark against the ruddy tone of his skin.

“When did it start?” he grinds out, each word bitten off through clenched teeth.

I draw in a breath, cool and steady, even though my heart’s banging like a drum. “After I left you.”

He scoffs—sharp and ugly. “Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.” My voice doesn’t waver, but my palms are damp, and I fold my arms across my chest.

He shakes his head, pacing a few steps, then spins back to face me. “You expect me to believe you just happened to fall into his bed the second you walked out of mine?”

“No,” I say quietly. “I expect you to believe I fell in love with someone who saw me. Who respected me. Something you stopped doing a long time ago.”

His breath comes faster now. I can see the vein in his temple, pulsing hard. He looks wrecked, but I don’t feel sorry for him. Not anymore.

I meet his gaze head-on. “This didn’t happen while we were together, Lance. You lost me before Reid ever touched me.”

He paces like a caged animal. “You think I don’t know how he’s always looked at you? Since we were teenagers? Always sniffing around like some loyal fucking puppy.”

“Reid was never the problem, Lance. You were.”

That stops him. His eyes flash and his voice rises. “I made one mistake!”

“No,” I say. “You made a thousand small ones. And then one big one… you cheated on me.”

He stalks toward me and I instinctively take a step back. “Don’t you dare stand there and act like you’re innocent in all this.”

“I never hit you,” I say flatly, and he freezes. “I never cheated on you. I never tried to control who you saw, or what you wore, or where you went. I didn’t tear you down every time I had a bad day. So no, Lance. I’m not perfect, but I’m not the one who killed what we had.”

His eyes widen, and for a split second, I see the man I once loved—the one who used to make me laugh, who used to bring me flowers from the market.

But that version of Lance is long gone. I know that without a doubt as his expression hardens once again.

He barks a bitter laugh and drags a hand through his hair. “This is all Reid’s fault,” he mutters. “Golden boy. He always gets what he wants, doesn’t he?”

I frown. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” he snaps, eyes narrowing.

“Tell the truth? You think I don’t see it now?

He’s always had a thing for you. Since we were kids.

And you—” He gestures toward me, wild and accusatory.

“You always lit up when he walked into a room. I was just the one dumb enough to believe I ever came first.”

“You did,” I say firmly. “For a long time. Until you stopped treating me like someone worth keeping.”

He points a finger at me, his voice rising. “No. Don’t twist this into some self-help bullshit. You were mine, and he took you.”

Frustration sweeps through me so fast, I’m actually dizzy for a moment.

It’s followed by a burn of anger deep in my chest. I step forward, my voice sharp.

“No one took me, Lance. You lost me. You lied to me.” I come toe to toe with him, lifting my chin to glare at him.

“ You controlled me. You humiliated me. And then you hit me. I walked away from you, not toward Reid.”

His expression fractures at that—guilt bleeding through, but not enough to soften the anger. “He’s my brother. He was supposed to have my back,” he growls. “Not take what’s mine.”

“I am not a possession,” I snap. “I’m not yours. I never was. And for the record? Reid didn’t chase me. I went to him.”

That hits its mark. He flinches like I slapped him. Then he looks at me like he doesn’t even know who I am anymore.

“You’ve changed,” he says, quieter now but no less bitter. “You’re not the girl I was going to marry.”

“No,” I agree. “I’m not. Thank God.”

He steps closer again and grabs my wrist. Not painful, but forceful.

“Let go,” I say evenly.

His grip tightens. “You’re just going to throw it all away? Like it meant nothing?”

“It meant something,” I say, holding his gaze. “But it’s over.”

He stares at me, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the cords in his neck.