We slid sideways, the world tilting at an angle that sent my stomach plummeting.For a heartbeat I was back in Miami, watching barriers approach with horrible inevitability.I got us straight again, but my hands were shaking violently now, vision tunneling, chest so tight I couldn’t breathe.
“Pull over,” Lily said immediately.
“I’m fine,” I forced out unconvincingly.
“Henri, pull over.Now.”
I jerked the car off the racing line onto grass and stopped abruptly, my whole body shaking with panic and shame so acute it burned.My head dropped against the steering wheel, trying desperately to ground myself.
Failure.Everyone can see you failing.
I tried to open the door, needing air, needing escape.
But Lily’s hand caught my arm.
“Henri, look at me.”
I couldn’t.My eyes were wide and unfocused, seeing rain and barriers and Miami.
“I can’t—” I started.“I can’t do this.I thought I could, but I can’t.I’m failing.”
“No.”Her voice came out fierce.“You’re not failing.You’re scared, and that’s okay.”
Her hand stayed on my arm.I could feel my pulse hammering beneath the surface.
“Look at me,” she repeated, softer.“Not the track.Not the rain.Just me.”
With enormous effort, I forced my eyes to focus on her face.On the genuine concern there, the complete absence of judgment.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.“I don’t know what’s… I used to be able to do this.”
“Stop.There’s nothing to apologize for.But I need you to breathe with me.In for four, hold for four, out for four.”We breathed together, her voice counting steadily.My eyes locked on hers like she was the only thing keeping me tethered.
Gradually, my breathing evened out.The shaking subsided to something manageable.
“Remember, focus on the rhythm of the corners,” she said quietly.“Trust the car.Trust yourself.”A faint laugh escaped me, the weight lifting slightly.
“You don’t have to finish this,” Lily said, hand still on my arm.“We can walk away right now.I won’t think any differently of you.”
I started to chew the inside of my mouth, and for a moment I considered taking the easy out.
Instead I let out a shaky breath.“I want to finish.”
“Wanting to and being ready to are different things.”
“I know.”I looked at her properly.“But I need to try.I just need a minute.”
The rain continued its assault, creating strange intimacy in our tiny car.
“It just feels so much like Miami,” I started, voice rough, “and Barcelona.”My thumb traced an absent pattern on the wheel.
“I’m going to finish,” I said finally, voice steadier.“Not for them, or for pride.But for me.I need to know I still can.”
“You’re sure?”
“No.”The laugh was short and sharp.“But I’m doing it anyway.”
“Okay.Then we’re doing this together.Talk to me through every corner.Out loud.”
