TheKahkcookie sits forgotten beside my coffee. I should eat, because the pistachio filling smells divine.
Should start working through the mountain of emails awaiting my attention.
Should prepare my presentation for the board.
Should do anything except fixate on William's injury, and the two words tacked onto his message like an afterthought.
Miss you.
Two simple words that shouldn't carry so much weight. We've gone longer without seeing each other during the season. This off-season separation was practical; I had meetings in Italy, he had training and apparently underground metal shows to attend, even if we did attend one soon after returning from Abu Dhabi.
But I miss him, too. A lot.
Miss his warm, deep laugh echoing through my penthouse. The way he absentmindedly traces the cherry blossom tattoos on his upper arms when he's thinking. How he always knows when to push and when to simply sit with me in comfortable silence.
Rain continues to batter the windows, the sound punctuating my thoughts like impatient fingers drumming on a table.
Get it together, Violet. He's your driver. An asset.One with a tremendous black eye that the media will notice instantly when testing begins.
I draw a deep breath and straighten my spine. Response options scroll through my mind: professional concern, feigned indifference, gentle teasing. None feel right. None capture the collision of emotions his injured face has triggered in me.
In the end, honesty wins—the raw, unfiltered reaction I'd give him if he were standing before me instead of pixelated on my screen.
My thumbs fly across the screen, emotion overriding diplomacy.
Are you fucking crazy? What have you done to your face?
I hit send before I can second-guess the tone. Professional distance be damned—he looks like he went three rounds with a heavyweight and lost spectacularly.
Three dots appear immediately. He's been waiting for my response.
Got caught by an elbow in the pit. You should see the other guy. Actually no, I have no idea who he was. Just some dude over two meters tall and built like a brick.
A frustrated sigh escapes my lips.
You realize testing starts in three weeks?
Don't worry, I can still see fine out of the other eye. Monocular vision might even help me focus better on the racing line.
That's not funny.
A little funny. You're smiling right now, aren't you?
I'm not.
Or I wasn't until he called me out. Now my lips betray me with the slightest upward curve.
Knew it. You can't resist my charm, even when I look like a raccoon.
A very unattractive raccoon.
Ouch. Now that hurts more than the eye. At least tell me I look cute or adorable or something.
You’d look more adorable without it.
Violet Colton… Did you just say I’m a bit adorable?
I didn’t.
