“That’s why you’ve been carrying Olivia’s pipe cleaner ring around like it’s the Hope Diamond.”
My hand went automatically to my pocket before I could stop myself. Ben’s eyebrows shot up in triumph.
“It would hurt her feelings if I lost it,” I said defensively.
“Uh-huh. And the Italian lessons? The toilet repairs? The way you’ve memorized her peanut allergy and know exactly how she likes her hot chocolate?” He leaned back. “All just charitable work?”
“I’m being helpful.”
“You’re being domestic. There’s a difference.” His expression turned serious. “Which brings me to why I dragged you here at dawn. Marco Corazzo called yesterday.”
The name hit like ice water in my veins. Marco was team principal at the racing outfit I’d driven for before the crash—back when I had a career instead of whatever this limbo was.
“What did he want?” I asked carefully.
“You. Technical director position for their new car development program.” Ben watched my reaction with the intensity of a crash test analyst. “They want someone who understands both the driving and engineering sides. It’s a good offer, Mario. Really good.”
The words should have filled me with relief. A way back into the world I understood, where success was measured in lap times and championship points instead of how well I could fix a seven-year-old’s Halloween costume.
“When do they need an answer?”
“End of the month.” He set down his mug with deliberate care. “Which brings me to my real question—what the hell are you doing with my sister?”
“Following your brilliant plan,” I said flatly. “Fake dating to keep the town gossips happy.”
“Right. Fake.” Ben pulled up another photo on his phone—this one from yesterday’s school parade, showing me lifting my hand in that ridiculous supportive wave Olivia had demanded. “That’s why you look like you just watched her win the lottery every time she smiles.”
“I don’t?—”
“I’ve known you since college. I’ve seen you focused before a race, celebrating wins, dealing with losses. I’ve never seen you look the way you do when Lily walks into a room.”
His voice gentled. “Like she’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”
I stood up, needing to move. Ben’s living room was barely big enough for pacing, but I tried anyway. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I turned to face him. “Because I’m leaving in December. That was always the plan. Your sister and her daughter deserve better than some washed-up driver who doesn’t even know who he is without a steering wheel.”
“They deserve someone who looks at them the way you do. Someone who shows up, who fixes things, who teaches a kid about aerodynamics like it’s the most important conversation he’s ever had.”
“Someone who’s going to leave,” I interrupted. “Just like Daniel did. You think I don’t see it? The way Olivia looks at me? She’s already planning a future that includes me, and I can’t?—”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.” The word came out harsher than intended. “My entire life has been about racing. Training, competing, the next race, the next season. I don’t know how to be steady. How to be the kind of man who stays.”
“You’ve been exactly that kind of man for three months.”
“By accident. Because I had nowhere else to go.” I slumped back onto his couch, suddenly exhausted. “My father called last night.”
“Oh, this should be good.”
“Wanted to know if I’d ‘gotten this tantrum out of my system.’ Said if I take the technical director position, all would be forgiven.” I laughed, but it came out bitter. “Forgiven for what? Having a crash that could have killed me?”
I shook my head.
“For embarrassing the family name. For walking away from ‘greatness.’” I made air quotes, tasting the poison in the word. “You know what the sick part is? Part of me still wants his approval. Even after everything.”
