Page 186 of First in Line

“He… he hasn’t texted. Or called. Barely, at least. I thought he would. I thought he’d try to convince me to come back. Like he did last time, when he texted and called for months despite my lack of replies.”

She raised a judgmental eyebrow at me. “Can you blame him for not texting this time, then?”

I grimace. “You’re right.”

We arrive at the Altron motorhome, which is the biggest one here. This is the team’s homeland, and Wesley made sure that everyone would be reminded of that fact.

The electronic passes come with Altron access as well, so we’re allowed in without a problem. This ground floor is a large room with tables and chairs gathered in clusters, a snacks and drinks station in the back, and another area that is more of a lounge. The mechanics and engineers are all in the garage, dismantling it so it can be sent to the next race in Qatar. But the rest of the team is here, and given the stares, it’s clear a few of them recognize me.

“Now what?” Cynthia whispers.

“I’m not sure …”

I look around, seeking a familiar face, a little lost. When I spot one, I call, “Lily!”

Justine’s assistant, who was heading for the door we just came through, stops and turns toward us. “Oh, Ms. Gillian. I didn’t—I didn’t know you were here this weekend.”

“I wasn’t, I… I’m here to see Jackson.”

“Oh, you just missed him. He left for the press conference. He should be back right after.”

“Thank you.”

“You can go wait on the third floor, if you want. It’s the partners and sponsors area. There’s a bar and a TV, so you can watch the press conference live.”

“Thank you, Lily.” After a nod and a smile, she resumes her walk and steps out of the motorhome.

Cynthia and I do as she suggested and make our way to the bar on the top floor. More people there recognize me, but no one says anything. I’m sure they’ve all realized Jackson and I were separated, and their loyalty goes to their teammate, of course.

We’ve just arrived at the impressive circular bar, sitting down on high stools, when I hear my name being called.

“Evangeline!”

Wesley Pryce is advancing toward us in one of his usual gray suits. As he reaches us, he lays a hand on my shoulder. “It’s good to have you back with us,” he says with a smile. “You have been missed.”

“Oh, thank you. Uh, this is my friend, Cynthia. She’s a big fan of your team. Cyn, this is Wesley Pryce, the—”

“Owner of Altron,” she finishes for me, a little stunned. “I’m a big fan, indeed, sir. Well, of Jackson, if I’m being honest. But Descamps is also a great driver.”

“Eh, Louis is alright,” Wesley says with a shrug.

Jackson’s teammate, whom we hadn’t noticed on the other side of the bar, pops his head to the side and loudly whines, “Hey, I heard that!”

Wesley doesn’t even flinch as he looks at his driver. “Be on the podium more, kid.”

“I’m trying,” he says sheepishly.

“Anyhow, I’m glad you’re back, Evangeline. I hope you’ll stick around this time. Jackson hasn’t been the same without you, and I prefer the Jackson that doesn’t have me worrying about my fifteen-million-dollar car every race.”

“I plan on sticking around for as long as he’ll let me, Wes.”

With a wink, he leans in to say, “Something tells me neither of us will ever see the day he stops wanting you around.”

On the screen set up above the bar, some movement attracts our eyes. Jackson and the two drivers who were on the podium with him fifteen minutes ago are sitting down on the white couch.

Wesley seems to decide he wants to watch the press conference with us, so he sits down on the stool next to me. A quick motion of his hand brings the waiter to us. “I’ll have a whiskey. And anything my friends here want, top shelf.”

Cynthia orders a cosmopolitan, but I stick to iced tea. I don’t want alcohol clogging my mind when Jax returns.