Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
It should’ve eased something in me that Lance wasn’t there, but it didn’t. It’s got me on edge because I don’t know where his head’s at.
I’m also nursing a bruised ego. Like Lara chose him—or at least the past—over us. And maybe she’s right. Maybe this is the last thread she needs to cut to gain closure, but it still sits in my chest like a loose bolt I can’t tighten and that’s not something I can afford to give credence to.
I’ve got too much to do today to keep pulling on that thread. If I want to be sharp by Sunday, I’ve got to get my head straight. No distractions. No emotion. Just the track.
I take the exit toward the Suzuka Circuit and soon massive grandstands rise like cliffs in the distance. The entrance is flanked by banners in Japanese script and the buzz of early fan arrivals. Even midweek, the energy here is building. I pull into the VIP entrance, nodding at security, who wave me through after a glance at my credentials. Barricades keep fans back, but throngs of them point their phone cameras at me as I drive slowly. I give them a wave, a smile. They’re the core of racing… the actual heartbeat.
The paddock is alive with efficient motion—technicians wheeling equipment, team staff running schedules, and early media teams setting up for broadcast. I park in the Matterhorn-designated slot and step out, hearing my name called by eager fans. I move over to the barricades, manned by security, and sign autographs and pose for pictures.
Felix and Tariq are waiting for me near the garage entrance. Gunner is leaning over his car, checking out a modification an engineer is explaining. Felix hands me a folded printout of the resurfacing notes. “Turn 8 has been re-layered. Grip might be patchy on corner exit.”
“Got it,” I say, scanning the document. “Any tire chatter from the other teams yet?”
Tariq smirks. “Coral Reef’s pretending they’re going full softs. They won’t. They’ll hedge on mediums and undercut like always.”
Tire strategy is what makes or breaks most races and why our strategists are indispensable. “Got it, mate.”
“We’ll be doing the track walk in about an hour,” he says, and I offer a wave as I walk off.
I head straight to Union Jack’s garage where I find Carlos, leaning against one of the workbenches with a half-eaten melon bun in his hand.
“Where’d you get that?” I ask, nodding at the food. I love those things… it’s like a sugar cookie and a cloud had a baby.
He jerks his head over his shoulder at a table in the back with an open box of pastries. “Help yourself.”
I take two and the first bite is delicious as well as horribly bad for me. I wonder if Lara can make these because she’s great at baking and…
Fuck… stop thinking about her for just five minutes, mate.
I search for coffee but don’t see any. I could use another ten cups, but I head back to Carlos who’s watching me, a smirk playing at his lips.
“How are you not jet-lagged?” I ask, wondering how he looks so chipper after the long travel of yesterday.
“I thrive on lack of sleep,” he says, biting into his bun. “But I’m not sure you do. You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” I drawl with an eye roll, but he’s not wrong… sleep has been eluding me. I just didn’t realize it had manifested in my physical appearance.
He glances at me sidelong. “Let me guess. Lara?”
I say nothing. Promise myself I can go five minutes without thinking about her. I take another bite of the melon bun and watch the activity out in the paddock.
Carlos doesn’t let it go though. “When’s she coming?”
A growl of frustration hovers low in my throat and I turn to look at him, pasting a pleasant smile on my face. “She’s not. She’s back in Torquay.”
He responds with a rapid flurry of surprised blinks. “Why’s she in Torquay?”
Taking a deep breath, I let it out and give him as succinct an answer as I can. “Because Lance showed up in Zurich, caught us kissing and we got into it. He called Lara a name, I attacked and we fought.” Carlos whistles through his teeth but I press on without even taking a breath. “Lara felt it was necessary to follow him back to Torquay and settle things face-to-face. I didn’t think that was necessary and I’m a little pissed she went. That’s it in a nutshell and honestly, I don’t want to talk about it. I’d like some blessed time to think about something other than Lara.”
Carlos stares at me, his brown eyes appraising. “That was quite a mouthful.” I expect follow-up questions and even though I said I don’t want to talk about it I will, because he’s a good friend who always offers solid advice.