Page 37 of Over the Limit

“Thanks.” I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “It’s been a struggle but with the extra time we’ve been putting in, I think we might have ironed things out and be on the right track.”

“That’s what Gio thinks,” my dad says, referring to the owner of Apex Racing, Gio Dumount.

“You talked?” I ask looking around, surprised he was here considering he wasn’t planned to be.

“We did.”

“About?”

He shrugs. “His plan for the team. If and where he sees you fitting in with it.”

“Chandler’s handling it,” I say of my agent and what feels like the endless negotiations for a ride next year.

“I’m well aware. It doesn’t hurt for me to ask too.”

I nod. “Gio knows other teams are interested.”

And they are but not in the way I want them to be. Isn’t that what is compounding all this stress?

“He mentioned that. Do you think that’s the best course of action if this is where you want to stay?” He meets my eyes. “You do want to stay here, don’t you?”

“Everywhere else that would be a step up already has their drivers locked up for next season. That leaves me . . . fuck if I know where that leaves me.”

“Gravitas would be an equal move. They’ve insinuated that they would welcome a driver shake-up. Sure, they’d have to buy out Schilling’s contract—”

“They’d never do that.”

“They’re looking for new life. Navarro is locked in. Schilling has been underperforming. And frankly, their cars are outperforming yours right now.”

“New life? C’mon.” I wave a hand at him.

“Schilling was told he needs to start performing or is out.”

“Like you know.” I make the statement but know deep down he’s right. Everyone talks to my father, Erik Evans. He’s the nice dad with the endless praise and kind smile. Secrets just spill out around him.

“I do.” He nods. “His father was distraught over it. Needed an ear. I lent him one earlier in the paddock.”

This changes things.

“Gravitas talked to Chandler, but we thought they were just blowing smoke,” I say. “Just feeling drivers out for future contract options.”

“Apparently not.” He glances over his shoulder and then back to me. “I know you want to stay here, but don’t discount Gravitas. They have a good team, have a good engine . . . and sometimes change is a good thing.”

I run a hand through my hair and sigh as I wait for crew members to walk past so that our conversation stays private.

Teams have shown interest, but ones that are farther down the Constructors’ standings. They’ve discussed decent contract terms, but they’d be a step down from where I’ve worked fucking hard to be.

But until now, I thought Gravitas talk was just that—talk. And now . . . now I need to wrap my head around the idea that they might be in play.

Just when I thought rosters were locked up for the next year, this comes about.

A stark reminder that every contract has an option that can be bought out. One that could upend the fragile balance of the driver world I walk in.

“There’s a reason we chose Chandler as your agent,” my dad says. “He’s dogged and always has something up his sleeve.”

“True.”

“And you’ve been in this world long enough. When someone wants you, they want you. It’s on you to perform even when the car doesn’t. That increases your worth.”