It would be a dangerous admission, and I’m already dreading the possibility that I might have to tell the team when they investigate the car and track to see what caused the crash.
‘I still hate this. I know it’s been, like, fifteen years but I still hate that you do this every other weekend for nine months of the year.’
Might that be another reason to retire? Does it seem like there are more and more reasons because they’re valid reasons, or because the press keeps putting them into my head every time I’m interviewed? Some days, it feels like I’ve already decided.
‘I know, I’m sorry, El. I promise I’ll be more careful.’ The nurse who’s been coming round checking my vitals pops her head around the door and signals to get my attention. ‘One sec, El.’
‘You have a visitor in the waiting room. He’s been here waiting a long time. Do you want him to come in?’ I nod and the nurse leaves.
‘El, I’m gonna have to go. I think Anders is here, or maybe Cole, I don’t know. Someone from Hendersohm.’
‘Okay, baby bro. Love you. Let me know when they discharge you.’ I return the love and she hangs up.
Before I know it, lurking in my doorway is a very sheepish-looking Harper. The guy who laughed in my face yesterday when I tried to ask him to go for dinner with me.
‘How’re you feeling?’ he asks, letting the doors close softly behind him but not taking any steps towards my bed.
‘Fine. Just a bit achy all over but I’ll be discharged in the morning as I’m on concussion watch.’
I’d like to be heading home right now, but I know concussion protocol better than I know my own name after more than a decade in the sport.
Before Harper can even take a seat at my bedside, Cole’s popping his head around the door too. ‘Hey, Cole, thanks for coming,’ I say.
‘I won’t stay long. Track report, you know. And…’ He looks at Harper. ‘I’ll tell everyone you’re okay. Good to see you.’
‘You, too, Cole. Thanks again.’
And with that he leaves. He’s clearly picked up on the weird energy bouncing off Harper but I can’t afford to think about that right now.
‘I thought…’ Harper steadies himself with a hand resting against the wall. ‘I don’t know what I thought. Shit! For a moment I thought you were dead. Ash was being so slow with updates and then he said it was you and I thought, fuck, he didn’t want to tell me because it was already too late.’
For a second, the terrible conversation from yesterday is completely forgotten. The raw emotion on his face makes it hard for me to breathe. His hair’s a floppy, sweaty mess of curls from both his helmet and what looks like hours of running his fingers through it. There are red blotches on his cheeks that can only be from repressed emotions and his eyes are swollen with unshed tears. His gaze is so intense as he scans my body to check I’m okay.
How am I meant to be mad, how can I push this man away when he comes to me like this?
Except, I know I have to. I know I have to because if it’s not going anywhere then what’s the point? I don’t want casual sex, I want alover, in every sense of the word.
‘Thanks for coming to check on me, but I’m all good. You should probably head back. The motorhome’s a mess and we have to hand the keys back in less than forty-eight hours before we fly to Singapore.’ I don’t think for a second that he’s going to be responsible and do any tidying up but it’ll give him a chance to get his stuff from my room. I also need him out of here and it feels like the perfect excuse.
‘I, um, ordered pizza to the hospital when they came out and told me you could have visitors. I thought we could eat together. It’s probably not the most romantic setting, but you did suggest we go for dinner together.’ He laughs, nervously, and there’s a pink flush creeping up his neck.
If my head weren’t throbbing with a raging headache right now, I would roll my eyes. When I asked him out for dinner, this isn’t what I meant, and I think he knows it. But I don’t think I’ve got the strength to have the conversation that’s long overdue while I’m recovering from a 300km/h crash.
‘Pizza sounds good.’
I really am too tired and bruised to put up more of a fight right now. I feel like I’ve been tiptoeing around his skittishness for months. We’ve been acting like a couple in private, and things have felt really good, but the second I push for more he freaks out. I know we never even explicitly agreed to be exclusive, but we were always together so it’s not like he was out seeing anyone else. But he won’t go out on a date with me yet he shows up at my bedside with big feelings and pizza? It’s more exhausting to figure out than two hours on the track. It’s gruelling for my brain, having to hold myself in check so I don’t scare him off. I don’t know if I’m coming or going and I won’t sacrifice my performance on the track for the sake of his comfort. Italy has been a total shitshow for me, and I’ve got no one to blame but myself. We’ve been operating on his terms so far, but what I want and what I need matter, too.
Except, every time he runs, he comes back quicker. It feels like progress, and the way he’s looking at me right now it’s clear I must mean something to him. But how long can we keep doing this for? How far would he run if I asked him to be my boyfriend? Would he ever stop running if I got down on one knee?
Woah!
Now is not the time to be thinking about marrying someone who won’t even go on a date with me. I must have hit my head really hard.
‘Where did you finish?’ I ask.
He meets my eye with a shy pride I didn’t know existed in him. I know arrogant Harper, teasing Harper, seductive Harper, sad Harper, but this is new. And it’s a good look on him.
‘P1,’ he says.
