Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
So I stand there helpless and hollow as she turns on her heel and stalks toward the exit.
“Go after her,” Giulia encourages me. “She needs you more than any of us because you understand this.”
I nod at her mother, accept an encouraging smile from Alessio and take off after her.
“Francesca, wait,” I call, following her through the sterile corridor. My boots echo against the linoleum. I catch up just outside the doors, the cool air slamming into us as they slide open.
She spins on me, her hair whipping across her face. “I need you to leave me alone.”
“Like hell I will.” My voice cracks like thunder, louder than I meant. “You don’t get to walk away like this—not from me.”
Her eyes flash, but her words are low, controlled, terrifying in her calm delivery. “You have no say in this, Ronan.”
I stare at her, knowing nothing I say will make her feel better. I can only be there for her.
She narrows her eyes, frustration causing her face to redden. “You don’t mean enough to me offer an opinion.”
Ouch… that one stung, but I also know that’s grief talking. I’m a professional at rooting out lies from truth when words are intentionally thrown to hurt. I’m Vivienne Barnes’s son, after all.
Regret flashes in her amber eyes, but she remains resolved. “If you care about me at all, Ronan, you’ll let me go. You’ll let me have my space to deal with this.”
I blow out a breath of frustration. Giving up is not in my nature, but I get the impression that Francesca will hold it against me if I don’t give her the space she’s asked for.
For once, I don’t fight. Not when she looks like this—frayed at the edges, brittle enough to shatter if I push too hard.
I nod. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” she says, sounding so tired. “I just… need to be alone for now.”
“I’ll come check on you later,” I say, assuming she’ll be at her flat.
She disappears into the crowd outside, leaving me on the hospital steps with nothing but the hollow certainty that if I don’t find a way to bring her back, I’ve lost her for good.
CHAPTER 28
Francesca
Italy has always been my refuge. I’ve traveled and lived all over the world during my racing career, but nothing is as peaceful as returning to my roots.
Normally I find sanctuary in the lush hills lined with the cypress trees, but right now, it’s like I’m in exile.
I came home Sunday evening along with my parents and Alessio. After I left the hospital, they weren’t long behind me and found me at my flat packing. I told them I wanted to come home and even though they tried to talk me out of it, they eventually did as I asked.
Although I wanted nothing more than the space that Ronan gave me, a part of me is grieving my loss of him. I said horrible things so he’d leave me alone and I know that I’ve ruined whatever was growing between us.
I know he couldn’t see. Couldn’t understand. When I said I was done, it was because of him. Yes, Carlos died and I’m still wrestling with the guilt, but all I could think of when we were in that hospital waiting room was that I’d never survive it if it was Ronan. I can’t be involved in a sport that can take so much from me, and I don’t know if I can be involved with a man who is at such risk.
I didn’t just disappear though. I called Ronan on the way to the airport and told him I was going back to Imola. It was a short conversation. Stilted, even. I know I blindsided him, and I made sure he knew how horrible I felt about it. I thought he’d argue, and part of me expected him to chase me. He did, after all, give up his race at Silvercrest by pulling off the track to comfort me.
Instead, he said, “I understand. I just want you to be okay, Francesca, so whatever it takes, I support it.”
I was both grateful and sorrowful. I have since wondered if I did the right thing in leaving him behind.
I’ve wondered about a lot of things.
It’s been four days since the crash, and they’ve blurred together. Mamma hovering close, pressing coffee into my hands each morning. Papà walking with me through the gardens, even when I say nothing for an hour. They’ve been patient, careful, like I might crack if anyone moves too quickly or speaks too loudlly.
And maybe I would. Because all I can hear, over and over, is Carlos’s teasing laugh, Carlos telling me I was good enough, Carlos promising to watch my back. And then the silence when they pulled his body from the car.
Everyone at Titans Racing has been wonderful. Brienne Norcross herself called me. She told me to take all the time I need to sort myself out. I was honest with her when I said, “I’m not sure there’s enough time for that.”