Page 11 of Racing for Redemption (Backmarker Love trilogy #1)

I study him for another moment, weighing his words against his actions in the past. From what I know, he’s not one to apologize or admit fault easily, so this is a significant gesture.

Let's not be petty, Violet. “Apology accepted. And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. My comment about your F2 results was… unnecessary.”

“Not wrong, though.” A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. “Truce, then?”

I extend my hand. “Truce.”

As our hands meet, William’s grip is firm, warm, and his calloused palm is rough against my skin. He lets his hand linger for a moment before pulling away. “So,” he says, clearing his throat. “When do we start?”

I can’t help but smile at his eagerness. “First thing’s first, we need to announce this to the board and the press. Then, we’ll get you fitted for a seat, run some sim sessions, and—”

A knock at the door interrupts us. Blake pokes his head in, his expression grim.

“Violet, we have a problem. The board called an emergency meeting. Everyone’s here. They want you downstairs. Now.”

My stomach sinks. William looks between us, brow furrowed.

“Well, for once, they’re being extremely useful and efficient.”

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“You don’t have to come in,” I murmur.

He snorts. “And miss the fireworks? Not a chance, Colton. If possible, I want to be there.”

Despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips. I push open the heavy doors, striding in with William close behind.

The board members swivel their heads towards us, expressions ranging from surprise to outright hostility. Chairman Reeves sits at the head of the table, his silver hair gleaming under the harsh lights.

“Ms. Colton,” he says, his voice cold. “I wasn’t aware this was a public meeting.”

I lift my chin. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce William Foster. Our new driver for the upcoming season.”

The room erupts into chaos. Board members talking over each other, demanding explanations. Reeves pounds his hands on the table, calling for order.

“This is unacceptable,” he growls. “We did not authorize this decision.”

“With all due respect, Chairman,” I counter, “driver selection falls under my purview as Team Principal. ”

William steps forward, his voice cutting through the din. “If I may, gentlemen?”

Attention shifts to him. He stands tall, exuding a confidence I haven’t seen before.

“I know I’m not your first choice. Hell, I might not even be your hundredth.

But I’m here because I believe in this team.

In its legacy. And in its future. And I’m not gonna lie—I’m also playing my game.

I needed a team, and Colton Racing was the only one available.

Also, my contract was a bargain, so you can stop getting your panties in a twist. I'm not sucking your resources.” I try hard not to facepalm from embarrassment. Why would he say that?

He pauses, meeting each board member’s gaze. “But, if you want results, I’ll deliver them. You want sponsorships? I’ll grovel to bring them in. But most importantly, I’ll fight for every single point, every single position, with everything I’ve got.”

The room falls silent. The board members exchange glances, reassessing.

Reeves leans forward, his gaze narrowed. “And what guarantee do we have that you won’t self-destruct like you did in F2?”

William doesn’t flinch. “No guarantees in this sport, sir. One day, we're heroes, the next, we're zeros. But I give you my word—I’m all in. One hundred percent.”

I step up beside him, sensing that I need to reinforce the point; otherwise, they’ll not take any of this seriously. “Gentlemen, this is our chance to turn things around. To show the world that Colton Racing isn’t done yet. ”

The tension in the room is palpable as the board members confer in hushed tones. Finally, Reeves looks up.

“Very well, Ms. Colton. You’ve made your bed and chosen the person you’ll be sharing it with. Now, lie in it. But remember our deal—eighth place, if not better, or you’re out.”

I nod, relief washing over me. “Understood, Chairman.”

As we exit the boardroom, William lets out a low whistle. “Well, that was intense.”

I can’t help but let out a soft chuckle. “Welcome to Colton Racing, Mr. Foster. This is just the beginning.”

William grins, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “Bring it on, boss.”

As we walk down the corridor, a new energy hums between us. “So,” William says, breaking the silence, “when do I get to drive the car?”

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Eager, are we?”

He shrugs, but I can see the anticipation radiating off him. “Just want to get a feel for what I’m working with.”

I check my watch, considering. “The mechanics should be finishing up the postseason checks. How about a quick seat fitting, then we’ll see about getting you some sim time?”

William's face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning as he eagerly awaits direction. "Lead the way, boss," he exclaims with a beaming smile.

As we enter the garage, the buzz of activity dies down. All focus shifts to us, curiosity and speculation evident on every face. I clear my throat .

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet William Foster. He’ll be driving for us next season.”

A moment of stunned silence, then a smattering of applause. The mix of hope and skepticism is evident in my team’s eyes. They’ve been through so much disappointment.

William steps forward, his posture relaxed but determined.

“I know I’m not who you were expecting,” he says, his voice carrying across the garage.

“But, I promise you this—I’ll give everything I’ve got to this team.

Every lap, every race, every point. We’re in this together.

The board of directors doesn’t seem to like me, but they didn’t fire me, so it’s a start. I’ll charm them eventually.”

A couple of people laugh at his self-deprecating joke.

As his words sink in, there’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere. It’s not adoration or even full acceptance yet, but it’s a start.

As the mechanics swarm around William, getting him fitted for the seat, there’s a presence at my elbow.

It’s Blake, his expression a mix of concern and cautious optimism.

As if sensing my gaze, William looks up, flashing me a thumbs up from the cockpit.

He’s a bit…goofy? Happy-go-lucky? Maybe it’s all a 'play pretend' thing, but that’s throwing me off a bit.

“Alright, Foster,” I call out. “Let’s see what you can do.”

The simulator room hums with anticipation as he settles into the rig. I stand behind the engineers, arms crossed, watching his every move. This is it—our first real test .

“Alright, we’ve loaded Silverstone,” the lead engineer says. “Take it easy on your out lap, and get a feel for the car. These are last year’s specs.”

William nods, his focus laser-sharp as the virtual track materializes around him. The room falls silent, save for the simulated engine noise, and the click of his inputs on the wheel.

As he completes his first flying lap, I lean in to check the time, and I’m pleasantly surprised. It’s faster than anything Nicholas or Kevin managed all season.

“Not bad,” I murmur, trying to keep my voice neutral. “How’s the balance feeling?”

“Bit understeery in the high-speed corners,” William replies, not missing a beat as he navigates Maggotts and Becketts . “But nothing unmanageable. This thing’s got potential. And it’s certainly faster than an F2 car.”

I exchange glances with Blake, who looks equally impressed. “Push it harder,” I instruct. “Let’s see where the limit is.”

William doesn’t need to be told twice. His next lap is even faster, the virtual car dancing on the edge of adhesion. As he crosses the line, shaving another half second off his time, a ripple of excitement runs through the room.

“Bloody hell,” one engineer whispers. “Is this for real?”

I allow myself a small smile. “Alright, Foster. That’s enough showboating. Let’s try a race simulation. Full distance, varying conditions.”

For the next two hours, we put him through his paces. Wet weather, tire management, fuel saving—he tackles each challenge with a focus and adaptability that’s frankly astounding. By the time we call it quits, the energy in the room is electric. He’s fucking talented. I’ll give him that.

As William climbs out of the sim rig, there’s a sheen of sweat on his brow, and a slight tremor in his hands from exertion. But his eyes are bright, alive with the thrill of the drive.

“Well?” he asks, a hint of cockiness creeping back into his voice. “Did I pass the audition?”

I fight to keep my expression neutral, but the corners of my mouth are twitching upward. “It’s a start,” I concede. “But don’t get cocky. The actual car is a different beast entirely.”

William grins, running a hand through the damp curls at the top of his head. “Can’t wait to tame it, then.”

As the engineers crowd around him, peppering him with questions and feedback, I step back, taking it all in. For the first time in months, there’s a buzz in the air, a spark of excitement that’s been sorely missing. I’ve never seen this factory so filled with life. Not since Dad’s time.

Blake sidles up to me, his voice low. “I hate to admit it, but you might be onto something here.”

I nod, watching as William engages animatedly with the engineers. “It’s early days yet, but… I think we might have found our ace.”

Blake raises an eyebrow. “Our very unpredictable, potentially volatile ace.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “True. But sometimes, you need to fight fire with fire. ”

As if on cue, William looks up, catching my eye. He flashes a boyish grin, accentuating his dimples, equal parts cocky and grateful. His amber eyes shine, little crinkles forming on the side, as if he’s experienced something he immediately fell in love with.

“Alright, everyone,” I call out, clapping my hands. “Great work today. Let’s reconvene tomorrow to go over the data in detail.”

As the room clears out, William approaches, his expression softer than I’ve seen it before. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “For taking a chance on me.”

I meet his gaze, feeling the weight of our shared gamble. “Don’t make me regret it, Foster.”

He nods, a flicker of determination in his eyes. “I won’t. I promise.”

As he turns to leave, I call out, “William?”

He pauses at the door, looking back.

“Once again, welcome to Colton Racing.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, genuine and warm. “Glad to be here, boss.”