He huffs. “Iamsomeone’s dad.”
Fair point.
“Why didn’t your sister continue to Formula 2?” he asks.
I shake my head, sad for my sister. “Auri suffers from migraines, which are triggered from a lot of things, including G-forces and the vibrations of the car. It’s honestly the same reason I didn’t stick with karting. Not only was I too impulsive and impatient behind the wheel, but motorsports are a sensory nightmare.”
“What do you mean?” he presses.
I shake my head, going quiet. But then I remember I don’t need to hold back with him. He won’t judge me or think less of me for not being able to handle something that causes me harm.
“Think about all the gear. The thick, itchy fabrics. The stifling layers. Then there’s the pungent scent of oil and burning rubber. The decibels around the circuit.” An involuntary shudder rips through me. “I would be dysregulated for days after a race.”
“Being dysregulated…”
“It’s like constantly being at your max and right on the edge. Thesmallest things would set me off. I missed a lot of school that year because I couldn’t get it together after a race.”
“That sounds so hard. Were your parents supportive?”
I bite my bottom lip, contemplating my response. “They were as supportive as they could be, given the information and resources we had at the time. It’s a lot, navigating AuDHD. Research and support are way better now than when I was young. The system in America is so broken. It often takes years to get a formal diagnosis, and even then, everything is so individualized; it’s a lot of trial and error.”
“What helped you most?” he asks.
“Medication for my ADHD for sure. Overstimulation is easier to navigate when I’m not also unfocused and frantic.” I pause, considering the question a bit more. “Honestly, leaning in and owning my diagnoses made a big difference for me as well. I learned to pay close attention to how I’m feeling all the time. I don’t ever downplay anything, whether it’s a visceral reaction in my body or a little hint from my gut. I developed a high level of self-awareness in my teens, and that makes a big difference in how I navigate the world.”
It’s also one of the things that Luca hated most. Things he thought were insignificant were often a big deal to me. He loved to call me overly dramatic. Little did he know that my hyperawareness was actually a survival skill.
Alaric inches closer, planting a kiss to my head and pulling me back to the moment. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to hide or downplay anything with me.”
My heart stutters in my chest. It’s one thing to be seen. It’s another entirely to have someone so insistent on seeing all versions. “I never feel that way when I’m with you.”
He kisses me tenderly. When we break apart, I brush my hand through his hair and snuggle closer.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask.
“I don’t.”
“Are your parents alive?” I wonder out loud.
He sighs. “They’re not.”
A pang of heartbreak burrows between my ribs. Without siblings, parents, or a partner, Alaric has very little familial support. And now that he’s estranged from his son…
I shake my head. I can’t imagine the depths of his loneliness. The more I learn about him, the more I grow to resent Luca. I don’t believe children owe their parents anything, least of all love and affection if the relationship is toxic. But I’ve had enough up close and personal experienceswith both men to know Luca is bullheaded, stubborn, and motivated by all the wrong things.
Alaric is a good man. He deserves to be cherished and revered, on the receiving end of the same level of care he provides.
I want to be that for him, I realize. His safe place. His sanctuary. His person, and his proverbial home.
With a yawn, I whisper, “If you need to get up and read, you can. But I really love it when you hold me while I sleep.”
He doesn’t answer.
When I peer up, I can’t help but smile. He finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER 46
EVANGELINE
