‘Well done. You should be really proud of yourself.’
‘I am, you know. I mean, it’s only cos you’re in here, but still.’
‘No, you deserve it Harper,’ I say. He does. He’s an incredible driver. I don’t know why it’s taken so long for him to get called up to the top category. Sponsors and team owners must really dislike his off-track antics to have passed him over for so many years.
‘Thanks,’ he says quietly.
‘What pizza did you get me?’ I ask in an attempt to discharge the sudden tension in the room.
‘Pepperoni with hot honey.’
He’s too good at this. For me this is the perfect mix of meat and spice and sweetness on a pizza and I hate that he knows me so well.
I know he sees my reaction because he looks really proud of himself.
He obviously takes this as an invitation to get closer, because he sits down in the chair next to my bed, scooting it right up next to my pillow.
‘I did good, huh?’
‘Depends. Did you order just pizza?’
‘What do you take me for? Of course I didn’t. I got tomato and mozzarella arancini and then garlic bread with chipotle jam and caramalised onion chutney.’
He’s right. He is too good. It’s the post-race cheat meal, and because we’re in Italy, it’s going to be phenomenal and I’ll end up falling even harder for him.
Then he’ll probably say no to an actual date and we’ll never sleep together again. He’ll disappear to another team or I’ll retire and that’ll be it. One hospital pizza date and a whole heap of excellent sex. Then nothing.
It’s depressing that my thoughts stray like this around our non-existent relationship.
‘Maybe I am good at this dating business.’
I’m not sure if he means to say that out loud. His face says not as it contorts with a mixture of surprise and shock and a healthy dose of fear.
I push myself into a sitting position and the undignified action pulls apart the hospital gown they forced me into.
His sharp intake of breath echoes in the sterile room. ‘Fucking hell, Kian! That’s not a few cuts and bruises. It’s like fifty per cent of your body is black and blue, and that’s only what I can see.’
I try to adjust both my gown and the blanket to cover up the marks, but I’m not exactly mobile right now and every joint and muscle is sore. Harper bats away my hands and surveys the damage in full. His fingers dance lightly across the darker bruising on my forearms and biceps and my elbows, which are practically black. There’s a painful cut on the top of my shoulder where something dug into me on impact, but it doesn’t hurt half as much with Harpers fingers trailing over it.
‘It’s just what happens, innit?’ I try to sound casual, but it’s true that getting injured is part of any sport. Ours is just slightly more extreme when it comes to weighing up risks and benefits, because we could end up dying in a pit of fiery hell. I’m glad Elise won’t see it.
‘You crashed, Kian. I haven’t seen one like that before. I kept holding my breath every time I passed the scene. I wanted to see you but I didn’t want to at the same time, you know? They had to pull you out. Imagine trying to drive and still rubberneck at the same time?’ The words fall out of his mouth fast and breathless. It’s almost like he’s on the verge of panicking – and it’s not at the thought of being in a relationship but at the thought of me being injured.
‘Hey, hey…’ I reach out to grab his hand and lace our fingers together whilst praying that a nurse doesn’t walk in. Harper would run and we’d be tabloid fodder and I don’t have the energy to deal with that right now. ‘I’m actually fine. They’ve X-rayed and scanned every inch of me. They’ve checked for a concussion more times than I can count and mostly I feel fine. A bit sore and tired and a bit of a headache because my body needs to repair itself, but that’s it.’
He sinks back into the uncomfortable plastic chair, his other hand on top of mine to hold me in place. Not that I’m going anywhere, seeing as I’m hooked up to a monitor for my heart rate.
It’s the most worried I’ve ever seen him about anything and I know I should be honoured but the doubt is still there, niggling away. I’ll want something from him that he isn’t ready for, I’ll push him too far too fast, and he’ll leave again. And one day, he’ll stop coming back.
‘I just need to rest and take it easy for a couple days. But don’t you worry, I’ll be kicking your ass again the second we’re back in the gym.’
We’ll be staying in a hotel in Singapore – no more motorhome! – and apparently we’re taking over a whole wing that’s newly built, on the same floor as the spa and gym facilities.
My body almost melts at the thought of a good soak in a hot tub.
‘Sure, sure, because it’s always you kicking my ass, baby.’ The gulp that follows the pet name assures me he didn’t mean to say it. That’s two things he didn’t mean to say out loud – his defences are clearly down right now. I don’t know how to acknowledge it without scaring him off, so I’m grateful that the nurse decides to interrupt us just then.
Our hands spring apart in what feels like an obvious way, but the nurse must not notice. ‘Sorry, visit over. Mr Walker needs rest.’
