Page 35 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

Everly

The bouquet sat on the kitchen island. An array of sky blue hydrangeas nestled beside bright, golden-yellow roses. There were so many I tried to count them, twirling the glass vase—until my eyes caught on the tag.

They were for me ?

Heart in my throat, I ripped it open.

‘My dearest Everly, these are for finally farting in front of me. But if anyone asks, it’s because your boyfriend loves you with his whole heart. Keep farting. Love, your boyfriend x’

The scoff from my throat was part audacity, humour and choking. I had not farted!

After the last race in Texas before the holidays, Nazmin had taken me and Luca to the side to go over our schedule for next year. She’d asked if either of us were particularly set on staying with our families for long over Christmas and we’d both been quick to say no.

Which had shocked me because Luca spoke about his family more than he spoke about bikes, boxing or me.

In the meeting, she’d said we had a photo shoot for an upcoming interview in Florida, which worked out with the last race being there too.

We would just have to leave the track earlier and Luca might miss a day of practice.

When she’d gone and I’d pushed out my chair, it had made a scraping noise that Luca had mistaken as a fart.

And he loved it. He’d fallen about laughing, telling me we were real best friends now as we’d broken through that boundary.

But I hadn’t!

That didn’t stop him from grinning about it the whole time we packed up our hotel room.

I ran my fingers over the soft petals as Dad walked in, still in his suit from some high-level meeting and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He glanced at the flowers and my grinning face, and rolled his eyes but gave me a big squeeze. “How’s your day been, ma chérie ?”

I shrugged and gestured to the flowers. “Better now.”

He nodded, looking down at them with a sigh. “They’re very beautiful. I hope the card mentions they’re not as beautiful as you.”

Now it was my turn to laugh and roll my eyes.

“You really like him, huh?”

My body locked down, guarding the truth. Even if I didn’t know what that truth was.

“I don’t know,” I said carefully, staring down at the tag again. Keep farting. My cheeks burned. “I’m… Yeah. I do.”

He took a swig from his water bottle, still eyeing the flowers. “He seems to make you feel lighter. Happier.”

I tilted my head at him in question. “What?”

His smile was soft. “That’s good. For the two of you.”

“So why the stunt with the hotel room?”

He shrugged. “It was a test.”

My blink was outraged. “Excuse me?”

“He needs to have the full Bacque experience. Tired, grumpy, post-race you. He’s passed so far.”

My head was reeling. “So… you approve?”

“Not openly,” he warned.

“That makes no sense.”

“Got to keep him on his toes. Give a man approval and he might get too comfortable. Got to make sure he continues to treat you right every day. As long as he continues to make you smile, ma chérie , then I’m happy for you.

” He twisted the cap back onto his bottle and walked out, calling over his shoulders, “Don’t forget to water your flowers. ”

I did so, the world around me feeling like it was on a new axis.

What on earth?

I went in search of my sister, mostly to check if she’d noticed our father’s mental break down.

Fia sat at the empty table in the dining room, swiping through TikTok, looking completely unbothered. When she saw me, she jumped out of my skin. “Ever! You made me almost piss myself. I thought you were Mum.”

“What are you meant to be doing?” I asked. “Clearly not something with your phone.”

I got mine out.

“Setting the table,” she grumbled but dragged herself to her feet, putting the dinner mats down in place. Then, tilting her head in disbelief, she pointedly scowled at my phone.

Sassy sixteen-year-old.

“Luca Mendes, you are adorable, and they are beautiful but you shouldn’t have got them,” I said into the camera. “But what you mentioned did not happen!”

He sent a video back, smiling as he walked with what looked like bags in his hands. Gravel crunched beneath his feet. And the trees behind him… the elaborate iron gate…

Was that my driveway?

“They’re not as beautiful as you,” he said with a whimsical sigh.

EVERLY: ARE YOU OUTSIDE MY HOUSE? RETREAT.

His smile was breathtaking. My gravel crunched with his footing. “Too late, my precious love nugget! I’m outside, come and let me in. Though I wouldn’t say no to some help getting the presents out of the car.”

“Did he call you ‘love nugget’?” Fia laughed, rolling her eyes. “Wow. Boy’s got it bad.”

I glowered at her. “He’s taking the piss. Did you know he was coming?” I asked, spying the seventh placemat.

“Maybe,” she said sweetly, grabbing the knives from the sideboard.

“And you didn’t say?”

She grimaced in disgust. “I kind of expected you to have more knowledge of your boyfriend’s schedule? Don’t get all pissy pants, love nugget, I’m armed to the teeth.” She lifted them high and bore her teeth to me before nearly falling about laughing. “I’m so funny.”

She might annoy the living hell out of me, and we might not technically be related, but I saw an alarming amount of myself in her.

I prayed that her confidence wasn’t a smokescreen.

There was no point in replying to his video message. I slid on my slippers and went outside to the drive, where he was standing and struggling to wave at me, weighed down by gift bags. In a Santa hat. “There’s one more in the car.”

“What on earth have you got with you?”

He smiled gleefully. “Pressies.”

“Pressies? For who?”

He bent and kissed me on the cheek. “Well, for starters, you. Then there’s your family too.”

Struggling to move his car key in his hand, he pressed a button to unlock his car.

“Front passenger seat. Put it on.”

I opened the door with a frustrated breath, only to find a matching Santa hat.

“Merry Christmas, Everly!”

“I am not wearing that.”

“Yes, you are. Remember, my sweet pudding pie, we are the most love-sick couple in all the land,” he said and tried to gesture with the bags around his wrists to put it on.

I shoved it over my head, grateful I hadn’t spent hours curling my hair.

“Beautiful,” he said, smiling and flashing his dimples.

“What are you doing here? I wish you had said you were coming,” I mumbled, opening the door and letting him through.

“As if I wasn’t going to see you for Christmas?” he asked and shook his head in mock disbelief.

“I’m coming to your fight!” I exclaimed, shutting the door behind us.

He turned with the brightest, chuffed smile. His voice dropped an octave, a velvety quality in his playful question. “Are you?”

Well, shit. Trying to slide against the wall beside him and his copious gift bags, I stopped and swallowed. “Of course.”

His eyes lingered for a beat too long.

“Well, your step-mum was very accommodating and told me I couldn’t spend Christmas Eve in London without trying her roast dinner, so that was what really enticed me,” he joked, eyes crinkling.

“Aren’t you meant to be on a crazy diet before a fight?” I asked, trying to take some of the bags from him and avoided his intense eye contact.

He shook his head at me.

“Normally, yeah,” he said. “For weigh-in. But it’s for charity. And I’ve, er, lost a bit of weight recently anyway.”

“For racing?”

He inhaled. “Yeah.”

He was lying.

“I’ve been a bit stressed,” he amended, stopping down the hallway. “But it’s Christmas! So no time for stress, only time for chocolate, pigs in blankets and pressies!”

My two younger brothers, Kade and Reid, came running around the corner at any mention of presents and hugged Luca. They’d met him a few months ago at the track before I worked there.

And they’d probably met him before through Alv, seeing as he was often in our home.

“Pressies?” Reid cried. “You got us presents?”

Kade looked up, eyes wide, his hands balls of excited energy.

“I did! But let’s talk to your mum first before getting too carried away and opening them.”

He put the bags — all eight of them — down on the side. “Now, let’s say hello properly,” he said to me as the boys went running to the kitchen. He hugged me close and kissed my head. “How has your mini break been?”

“You know how it’s been,” I told him. We’d messaged every day. “How’s yours been, sneaking around and messaging my stepmother?”

He laughed, planting another kiss.

“Just a couple of meters further…” Fia said, gesturing us forward, curling her hand. “Yep, a couple more steps…”

Luca frowned but walked us forward, saying hello to Fia.

She didn’t give a greeting back. “Stop! Now, look up!”

Above our heads was mistletoe.

“Zsófia Bacque!”

My dad had adopted her, so he only had to shout one last name when scolding. He was very good at it.

“No kissing in front of me,” he grumbled, snatching the mistletoe from the doorway and looking Luca over. “I heard you were coming.”

Was this a part of the test?

“Thank you for having me,” Luca said.

Dad glanced between us and his arm around my waist. “Yes, well, you’re always welcome, Luca. And you’re also welcome to remove your hands from my daughter while I can see you both.”

A flashback to Luca impersonating him at our first meeting made me laugh aloud. I stepped away from him before bashing my pinky into his.

“What did you get me?” I asked, turning to him. “I only got you something small.”

“I don’t need you to get me anything,” he said with a frown.

Dad made retching noises to Fia’s amusement, but she was scrolling through her phone again. As Dad walked away, he threw the softest smile over his shoulder.

“Mum says we can open them after dinner!” Reid practically bellowed, deep from his chest as he stood at the end of the hallway, legs shoulder width apart, drumming his fists on his chest. “Presents!”

Luca’s eyes grew wide and as my brother ran off, he laughed, taken by surprise.