Page 163 of First in Line

“Jackson? Jackson, radio check!”

The engine cuts out completely beneath me. The Ferrari keeps going.

Race over.

I suck in a sharp breath and force myself to move. My shoulder throbs from the belts, but everything else seems functional enough. No blood pouring down my face this time. No blurriness. No panic.

Just the sick realization settling heavily in my chest.

“Evie, I’m okay,” I rush to say, remembering that she can hear me. She just saw everything from the screens in the garage and must be panicking and having flashbacks.

“I’m alright, princess. I’m not hurt,” I continue as a marshal rushes toward me while another waves a yellow flag.

I unclip my headrest before setting it between the car and the wall and unbuckle my seatbelt. Once the steering wheel is detached, I get out of the car, using the halo to lift myself.

“Can someone confirm that Evie heard me?” I demand, following the marshal to safety.

We’re at the opening in the barrier when Elliot says, “She heard you. Justine just took her out on the paddock. Good to know you’re alright, Jax.”

Once we’re in position behind the barrier, I watch the cars pass by. Mine is far enough from the track that the virtual safety car is enough.

As I see all the cars that I passed rush on the other side of the barrier, I can’t help but blame myself for the stupid mistake. It’s been three years since I last had to retire from a race because I messed up.

Three months ago, I would’ve committed to that corner without thinking twice. I would’ve trusted my instincts and expected the Ferrari driver to move.

This time, I hesitated.

Because now, for the first time in eight years, there’s someone waiting for me outside the track. And she matters so much more than winning.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

Evangeline

Acramp drags me out of sleep so abruptly that for a second, I have no idea where I am.

I groan into the darkness, one hand instinctively moving to my stomach as the pain tightens low in my abdomen. It feels like the contractions I’ve been getting on and off for weeks now, annoying false alarms that never become anything more.

I grab my phone from the nightstand and squint at the screen through blurry eyes. 3:17 a.m.

“Seriously, Ophelia…” I mumble hoarsely, eyes closed again. “I just fell asleep.”

Clenching my teeth, I wait for the cramp to fade, like it always does after a few seconds. Sometimes a minute. But the pain doesn’t ease. It stretches longer and longer, until the muscles in my stomach feel pulled impossibly taut.

I shift onto my back with a wince and stare at the dark ceiling, waiting for relief.

It comes eventually, but not fully. The ache remains underneath, dull and deep, settled somewhere between my lower stomach and spine.

I exhale slowly through my nose.

Jackson is in Melbourne for the Australian Grand Prix. And as always during race weeks, my blood pressure is way up. I’ve tried, I really have, not to be dramatic about all this, but I can’t control it.

Ophelia and I have been doing okay, though. I’m just being monitored more closely.

I’m not allowed to watch the races live, which I have no desire to, anyway. But I still compulsively check weather forecasts and things like that, wanting to make sure everything will be fine. And Jada, who’s been staying with us for three weeks now, lets me know as soon as the sessions are over, to tell me Jax is alright.

Another cramp rolls through me before I can finish processing the first one properly.