Page 6

CHAPTER 6

Connor

I stretch out on my hotel bed in another nondescript hotel room in another city before climbing out.

The sheets may be luxurious and the hotel beautiful, but I’ve tossed and turned for hours. Pink flowers bloom from the vase in the corner. My lack of sleep and inability to control my thoughts, especially when combined with those flowers, trigger a flashback: watching Ralf marry Myles in Bali last summer. They stared at each other, tears rolling down their smiling cheeks as they declared their eternal adoration to one another. Everything in my body screamed that I wanted that—a love that changes everything.

Senna stood in the front row, hiccupping with sobs. All the love I’d once had, albeit the love of an eighteen-year-old lad with no understanding of the world, crashed over me.

Sitting in the back row at the small ceremony, I was enraptured by the woman I would never have. And I couldn’t speak to anyone about it, especially not to my best friend. A pink flower was tucked behind her ear. It matched her dress, which skimmed the floor, revealing she was barefoot when she moved. It framed her curves and reminded me how much had changed since we were close. I wanted to dab her tears. Unbeknownst to Senna, her presence chased me away that day when I only wanted to ask her to dance and find out how she was.

Even though Niki’s crash solidified my realisation that my feelings for Senna weren’t going away, I could push them far down—at least until the last fortnight.

I remember Niki’s shaved head. My head drops, and anxiety itches my throat. Niki’s crash also made me fear driving.

My phone tells me it’s three a.m. The morning of qualifying. The glamour in my life pales when loneliness sits so heavily on my chest. I used to have Niki when I needed company. My mum will be working at the hospital, but one other person will take my call back home at eleven on a Friday night.

“Hey, Layla,” I say to the yawn on the other end of my phone. “What you doing?”

“Studying,” my baby sister replies, with a grogginess that was cute fifteen years ago when she slept in my arms as an angelic-faced five-year-old. “I’ve reached the top five per cent in my year.”

“You’re amazing. I knew you were smashing it, but that’s incredible.” She’s messaged me photos of her grades every week. I throw on my gym clothes. There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight. Insomnia wins again. “But are you having fun? It doesn’t always have to be about studying. I could set you up on a date, although no one is good enough for you.”

Her chuckle warms me.

“Con, don’t be trying to set me up because you can’t date the woman you want. How is your boss, the beautiful and too good for you Senna Coulter?”

“If I hadn’t seen you after Ralf’s wedding, you wouldn’t suspect anything.” That day, I realised all my years of trying to hate Senna were pointless. My heart had kept a secret place for her during the years we weren’t speaking.

“I’d have worked it out eventually.”

I grunt my response.

“Please tell me you’re not just grunting at her ?”

“You know I could stop paying your tuition at any point, right?”

“What did you tell Dad that time?”

I remain silent, hoping she won’t repeat my conversation with Dad when I was signed to the Lapoire Team at eighteen.

“You know, when you told him he could spend more time with the family because you didn’t need him to be your coach anymore?”

“We don’t need to go over that again.” I thought joining Formula Two and giving my dad the freedom to be with the family would be perfect—until he left us for the mother of another driver.

Layla performs an impression of me but adds an extra huff because she loves making me out as the grumpy one. ““Fine, Dad, we don’t need you. Even if I had pittance, I’d do everything I could to help my family, including paying for Layla to train in whatever career she wants.” I was only ten years old!”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. My mum can’t afford the exorbitant costs of her study. She’s the best cheerleader from a distance, but Layla’s media degree and my racing career are far removed from Mum’s happy life working in a remote Scottish hospital, where she disappeared with Layla after my dad left. “Fine. I’m honoured I’m part of your life and enjoy helping you reach your dreams. Now get lost.”

Her laughter makes me grumble louder, especially when she adds, “Back to Senna.”

“I’m avoiding her. Technically, I’ve dodged or been pleasant to her before extracting myself from every Senna-related situation as quickly as possible.” I don’t add that it’s because when I’m with her, I want to press all her buttons, and when I’m not, I feel guilty for not protecting her. “I’m pretty sure, based on Shakedown a couple of weeks ago, that she’s on Antoine’s side. So, whatever, I don’t care.”

I fold my arms and glare at my lying face in the gilt-edged hotel mirror.

“Are you going to leave like you said you wanted to do at the start of the season? Because I need you to keep her sweet.”

“I can’t leave. I promised Niki I’d stay and protect her. I just wish I could get more sleep.”

I shield my sister from the worst of it. She’s been through enough with our dad and should be enjoying university life. I can’t tell her that I’m getting three hours of sleep a night and struggling to eat. Last night, I walked the streets, just like the night before Shakedown. I’ve sent countless unanswered messages to Niki.

“Con, you need to tell Senna what driving does to you and how you’ve barely driven since Niki’s accident. She’ll understand more than most bosses.”

“Because she was in a crash that I caused?” I shiver against a cold sweat.

“Yeah, and because it was her brother who was seconds away from…you know.”

Images of Niki’s car, flames rising from the engine, sucker-punch me. I clear my throat, but no amount of swallowing clears the dryness.

“Connor, I love you, but you’re torturing yourself. You promised Niki you’d protect her, but your mind is a mess. You can’t keep hiding your feelings about driving or your guilt from what happened when you were teenagers. Sooner or later, she’ll find out that you still want?—”

“Don’t say it,” I cut in. “If no one says it, then we can pretend it’s untrue. And if it’s not true, I can protect her like I promised.” I squeeze my eyes closed. “I owe Niki. But I owe Senna more, because our crash ended her career. And her dad is thinking of selling the team, so the best way I can help her is by staying out of her way and succeeding. Qualifying is later today. I need to drive my best and get high on the grid to stand a chance of doing well in the race on Sunday.”

Layla’s voice softens. “I understand that you care about her, but you need to see a professional and deal with this. You’ve got too much in your head. It’s no wonder you’re not sleeping.”

“Or I could keep going and hope everything will be okay. I managed to get through practice in the car.” I know my decision-making is irrational, but that’s all I’ve got.

It’s her turn to grumble.

“Anyway, you said I needed to keep Senna sweet. What are you planning?” I ask as I walk to the hotel gym to lift weights and ease my panicky energy.

“I’d benefit from a chat about my future. Senna was the director of marketing, and she won awards. I’d love to speak to her about my next steps.”

“Maybe she could get you an internship or even a job.”

“I’m no nepo baby.”

I chuckle. My sister listened to me moan about the sons of drivers who got everything, whereas I had to struggle for sponsorship and funding. If not for Niki and Senna imploring their dad to finance me, I wouldn’t have raced at all—another reason why I owe the Coulter family.

“Okay, I’ll speak to her. I’ll be in touch, Layla. Thank you for the chat.”

“And remember what I said. Get help. Love you.”

“Love you too. Try to have some fun at university.”

I need to smack a punching bag until sleep comes. As I weave through the basement corridors of the hotel, I consider finding Antoine and hitting him instead.

Pressure rushes my ears. If only Niki knew why I am the worst person to defend his sister. I miss my best friend so much. This time last year, my only worries were deciding which woman to bed and how Niki and I could avoid the paparazzi while tearing up a new city. My rep was well deserved, and I revelled in it. I saw Senna at races, but she was always at such a distance that I didn’t have to deal with my buried feelings for her.

Maybe I should see a specialist, but Senna might find out and stop me from driving. I need to keep her safe while not letting myself care too much about her.

But I remember how she licked her lips when I spoke on her radio last week. I made her livid, and yet I swear, in that moment, she wanted me. I’ve replayed that moment all week, except instead of speaking on her radio, I pin her to the wall and kiss her like I always wanted to.

“Hey, bro.” Senna’s voice carries down the corridor from the gym. Why is Niki answering her calls but avoiding me?

Her soft sobs catch my attention. I peek through the gap in the door. Tears slide down her cheeks. She pushes them out of the way with the sleeves of her Coulter team hoodie. I need to protect her and take all her tears away, but I’m frozen in my spot.

“I don’t know what to do. I can get Antoine to toe the line, but what about Connor?” She hasn’t said my first name without an expletive in years. It grips my heart like it did the night before she crashed and I watched her sleep. “He acts like I’m nothing. He won’t let me tell him what to do, so I lose it with him and try to be aggressive, but he smirks in my face. It’s humiliating and gives the people in the garage another reason to laugh behind my back and disrespect me. I know what they’re saying.”

She’s crying because of me?

My head drops as shame prickles my skin. The fear of racing has got to me, but it’s also my reaction to her that I’ve been countering with my dickhead behaviour. I vowed once to protect her at all costs, and although it ruined everything and hurt her beyond reason, there’s still a part of that Senna who needs people on her side.

Hatred fills me as her sobs continue and she tells Niki more of my behaviour. From her perspective, I sound even worse. If I were him, I’d want to protect her against this prick.

But I’m the prick.

My vow didn’t work when I was younger, and I was more stupid than I am now. But as I return to my room, I make a new vow. I’ll do everything possible to make this a successful year for Senna. I never want her to cry again, especially not because of me. This will be Senna and Team Coulter’s best year, and then I will move on because driving isn’t for me anymore.

This isn’t my future, but it can be hers.

But how do I deal with my fear of driving?