Page 30 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

Luca

My family hadn’t seen me race for StormSprint.

I kept in contact with them. Before his death, I’d gone to visit Alv in the hospital every month when no one else was around.

Every time I saw him lying there with the tubes and wires, I said goodbye, wondering if it would be the last time that his mottled hand would be warm. The slow rise and fall of his chest wasn’t a reminder that he was alive. It was the ventilator.

After his funeral in France, I went back to Nonna Imelda’s in Italy with my parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

We haunted her house.

I didn’t know what I expected. For a grief shared to be grief halved? But grief wasn’t a ‘problem’; it was an all-consuming ache, and it throbbed when I was confronted with the destruction it had caused in my family.

Nonna Imelda’s eyes were blurry. Her words were sharp.

Mum tried to keep the house together, making meals and washing clothes. My uncle had to pull her into a hug when she finally broke down over a spoon that hadn’t come out clean from the dishwasher. She wailed over the peanut butter that remained smeared on the stainless steel.

My sister was the only one I could talk to without awkward silence. I didn’t even think the others realised the silences existed or how uncomfortable they were. Their minds were either permanently quiet or wired.

And I was just there.

I didn’t think I was numb or emotionless, but I didn’t feel like they did.

Surely, I couldn’t still be in shock? When would it hit? Because it would hit me, right?

Or was it because I’d been the only one to accept it so early on?

Not knowing the answers, not being able to breathe in the house for the heaviness in every glance and word and silence, I used work as an excuse to leave earlier.

It was one more reason I didn’t mind that the charity match would be on Christmas Eve and I might miss some of the holiday with my family.

So when my cousin, Gio, called me, it was and wasn’t a surprise.

I’d been avoiding them, unknowing how to help with their grief after my feeble attempts had ended in yet more silence.

Whereas I needed distraction. Something to push me forward.

One of them was going to scold me eventually, but I hadn’t expected it to be him.

We had just got to our hotel in Austin when my cousin’s face lit up my screen. I rolled my suitcase to the side of the revolving doors as the rest of Ciclati went inside.

Everly frowned at me, but I threw her a smile, and she followed our friends, looking over her shoulder as I answered the call.

“ Ciao, Gio ,” I said, pulling my coat further around me in the crisp Texas air.

For some reason, the last leg of the championship was always in America. When it was cold.

“ You’re fucking his daughter? ”

Ah, shit.

“ I thought you were trying to get out of Ciclati ,” he snapped. “ Not balls deep into it. Fucking hell, Luca. ”

I bowed my head as I stepped behind one of the pillars of the entryway, hiding from Everly looking back for me again. The pit in my stomach lurched.

“ Nonna would lose her mind if she knew .”

To be honest, it had me on edge that none of my family had mentioned my love life despite the media attention.

Something in my mother’s side glances told me she knew.

My sister’s posture had tightened when I’d mentioned my grid girl in passing—a few times— but she never brought the conversation to the light of day.

Probably because she knew the same as Gio.

“ It’s not like that— ”

“ What is it like? ”

Rubbing the nape of my neck, I stammered, unsure what to say. It wasn’t real? I didn’t feel anything? We were just friends?

“ She’s helping me get out of the contract .”

There was a pause before he started rambling about me lying, just trying to get some and how could I think with my cock when it came to the Bacques?

“ We were trying to wind him up and make him hate me so that he’d let me go— ”

“ Well, how’s that going? Because when I confronted Alessia, she said this had been going on for two months .”

Fuck. So my sister did know.

In the public eye, it had been less than six weeks.

In my head, it had been four months.

“ There’s more to it, ” I argued, and I could feel my body tensing in defence, my brows lowering, adding to the throbbing ache in my head. “ She’s got dirt on him. ”

I paced up and down, wheeling my suitcase around in a figure of eight as my cousin’s deep breaths were the only sound down the phone.

“ What kind of dirt? To do with Alv ?”

“ No. Illegal shit. ”

His voice was faster, more excitable this time. “ Have you got enough to go to the police? How have you got this information?”

Well… that was a good point. I didn’t have anything.

“ It’s a slow process. ”

He scoffed. “ Right. To be honest, Luca, you’re not exactly a detective, are you? I’ve got an international PI that I used when all that shit went down with the affair. ”

That sounded awfully formal.

“ A private investigator? ” I laughed. “ No, Gio, I don’t think so. I’m not planning on doing anything official with it, just a bit of casual blackmail for him to let me go .”

“ I’ve already texted you their details. ”

I groaned, head thrown back with a sigh. “ Gio, please don’t get involved —”

“ I’m not. A PI will be. I’ll see you for Christmas, yeah? ”

I agreed and he hung up.

Christ.

This was not how I’d intended for this to go down.

When Nazmin had mentioned the planes for America, Everly followed me back to my trailer and told me how we needed to be the first and last on that plane.

We’d arranged an argument for the tale end of the journey, her ‘crying’ in the bathroom while I stood outside of the toilet, talking her through her panic.

When everyone else alighted, we’d scoured the plane and spoken to the baggage handling crew about how we were desperate for her medication… picking out her dad’s luggage.

Because who would say no to someone crying? She excelled at anything she put her mind to. Today, it just so happened she was an actress.

She’d even planted her medication in his bag.

But when we took the suitcase to the side, there was nothing.

Though it wasn’t the only way he could sneak them over. Everly was in her element in the back of the taxi, snuggling into my side and texting on her phone for me to see.

EVERLY: I watched a show where they put pills in car airbags. Is there some way that he could be transporting them through the bikes? Pedro once said my dad hid them in the hold somehow.

I’d shaken my head and told her a mechanic would have to be involved. I couldn’t speak because my jaw was so tight over her mentioning Pedro of all fucking people.

She continued to come up with a multitude of ideas. What about his travel pillow? Could he have stuffed them in there? Could he have stuffed them inside himself?

By the end of her escalating ridiculous ideas, we were both sniggering into each other’s shoulders and I planted a too-natural kiss into her hair.

As I entered the hotel lobby, she wasn’t laughing. She was staring daggers at her father, her suitcase disregarded by the reception desk. The fists at her side trembled, and when I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, she was as stiff as a board.

“What’s up?”

“He’s booked us one room,” she snapped, not taking her eyes away from my boss, who shrugged.

“You’re together, are you not?” he asked with a poorly acted frown, his voice too light. It was a test; this wasn’t a sudden acceptance of our relationship. “And when you come crawling back to me begging for a different room, the cracks will start to show.”

She leaned back into me, her breathing rapid. I stroked up and down the arm of her coat and her breaths slowed as her hand gripped my thigh.

He raised and lowered a shoulder. “At least this way, you can keep an eye on your boyfriend and check he doesn’t spend the night in anyone else’s room.” He turned to me with a disgusted snarl.

He knew it wasn’t what it sounded like. I’d been helping one of my closest friends who was going through hell.

But he would clearly use anything to cause friction between us.

She released a low, throaty sigh of exasperation, grabbed her suitcase and stormed over to the elevator. I went to follow her, but Cris cleared his throat.

“Break up with her,” he said, looking past me to Everly, who was huffing as she waited for the doors to open. Her eyes widened at me, trying to hurry me along. “Make her hate you. Despise you. And I’ll give you what you want.”

He had my full attention. “What I want?”

“Make her hate you so much that she quits,” he begged.

“She needs to go back to university, to her music. She…” He shook his head and breathed deeply through his nose.

“She always has the best intentions, but she clings to things she thinks are good for her. She doesn’t have the best judgment.

She needs a reset. She failed her last year of uni and…

they’ll let her back in. She’s ignoring the world — her potential — here.

This isn’t the right environment for her…

If she quits, I’ll let you quit. I’ll let you out of your contract. ”

The words rang in my ears. She’d failed uni? She could go back?

But to hurt her?

“Let her go and be who she’s always wanted to be. She adores you and she’ll stay here for as long as you do. If I sack you, she’ll hate me. Please, Luca.”

I was blinking, unable to comprehend what he’d said.

And how I could never do that.

I wouldn’t even let the thought settle.

A world where Everly Bacque hated me couldn’t exist.

I wouldn’t be the person I wanted to be. I wouldn’t live with myself if I did anything to hurt her.

She was taking me by the hand then, stomping us over to the open elevator and pulling me inside. She rambled about her dad. Then about pillows. Haircare. Could I curl hair with straighteners?