She kept her head averted. She couldn’t trust herself to look at him.
“Okay, well.” She swallowed, doing her best to sound businesslike. “I think you get what I’m saying.”
“Yes.”
His voice wasn’t cold. It wasn’t harsh. It was … what?
Tender?
No. Not tender.
Do not go there.
She quickly left the room, running down the stairs and out of the paddock.
It had gone well. Better than she’d expected.
I wish I was stronger, she thought, keeping her head down and wiping her eyes.I wish I had it in me to walk out of the room holding my head high instead of running like a scared rabbit. What was she so afraid of?
You know.
She was afraid her face would betray her. That he was still written all over it. That if she’d stayed just a little bit longer, he’d see it—the way she felt about him, the way she still felt about him even knowing he no longer felt the same way about her.
She drew a deep breath.
She needed to think of him as a teammate and nothing more.
And she needed to do something else.
She’d do it when they raced at Imola in Emilia-Romagna. It was only a few hours away. That would be her last chance before the final race of the season. After that, she might not get another one.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
NICO
Nico had rented a car and drove until she reached the small country road that led to the village. She pulled off to the side of the road and parked. From there, she walked the rest of the way—all five miles of it. It wasn’t until she’d reached the stone path that she remembered there was a parking lot much closer.
She’d called ahead. They were expecting her.
Now as she entered the house and followed Rocco’s mother into the living room where they were all sitting, she tried to recapture that feeling of warmth and light she’d felt when she’d come here before. But all she could feel was weight—like an anchor that had been strung around her heart, her gut, and her legs and then flung out to sink to the bottom of the sea. Even her breath felt as though it were attached to that anchor. She hoped she could manage to find the words and say them aloud.
If you don’t face your past now, you’ll never get beyond it.
She was relieved when Isabella assured her that Sofia and Beatrice were outside and were instructed to stay there. There were some things she couldn’t say with them here. They were so young. How could they understand? But then, how could any of them understand?
“I’m sorry that I left the way I did and just disappeared. You deserve the truth, and I don’t know what or how much Rocco has told you.”
She looked searchingly at their faces.
“He didn’t tell us anything, dear,” his mother said. “But we knew something happened when you and your uncle Mickey left like you did.”
She swallowed. “He’s not my uncle.”
And there it was, she thought as she looked around the room at their faces. That same warm, welcome, and safe space.
No look of surprise. No frowns. No gasps.
“You don’t have to do this, Nico,” Rocco’s father said.
