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My mouth falls open. She’s honestly linking my relationship with Mason to her affair and talking about it in the Collings Motors garage?

“This is not the place for that conversation,” I say, and suddenly, I feel like I’m the adult and she’s the teenager. “And I told you already, I’m not having that conversation.” Then to emphasise the point, I put on my headphones and ignore her.

Both Mason and Caleb are on their warm-up laps, and I shift my attention to the monitors instead. Damn, I wish Isla were here to run interference. But she’s off doing a feature on an F1 Academy driver, Maryline Wouters, so I’m here with Mum alone.

Xavier takes off on his flying lap. I watch as the clock begins to run on the screen. He put down the fastest lap during practice yesterday at 1:18:322. He’s flying once again—Xavier loves this circuit. The clock is running on him, and then Caleb starts his flying lap as a box with his time pops up on the screen. Xavier is so fast through sector 1. I draw my lower lip in between my teeth as I watch the numbers roll across the bottom of the screen. Right now, the goal is to simply make it into the top fifteen. Caleb’s time is comparable, slightly behind Xavier in sector 1.

Then another box pops up on the screen—Mason’s time.

My stomach does a flip when I see his time flash up on the counter. He’s nearly on pace with Xavier for sector 1. Come on, come on, come on, I will him.

Xavier crosses the finish line at 1:19.435. Caleb is at 1.19.640. They make their way back to the pits as I wait to see where Mason crosses the line. He’s laying down a perfect lap on his medium tyres, handling every corner, and is a bit faster than Caleb in the second sector.

My heart is hammering inside my chest as he completes the final turn—called the Curva Alboreto—before racing to the finish line. His numbers are rolling fast, and I see he’s bested Caleb, but oh my God, can he beat Xavier?

Mason’s car shoots across the finish line at 1.19.486, placing him second! The garage erupts into cheers, and my heart is pounding out of my chest.

The difference between Xavier and Mason is 0.051 seconds.

This is why I love F1. There’s no bigger rush than this, the thrill of getting so close, of holding your breath as a car is trying to beat the clock and come across the line.

Caleb’s car arrives back at the garage, and the mechanics push him inside the bay so they can get him ready for another run. He’s sitting in fourth place at the moment, just behind Romeo Vittorio, who is having a stellar weekend at his home race.

Mason has returned from his run and will now reset as well. I’m listening to Caleb talk to his engineer now, and I know the strategy is for both cars to go again. I don’t know if Xavier will or not. With that time, he doesn’t have to.

I shift my attention back to the monitors so I can see what other drivers are doing and who is in the bottom six—the drivers in danger of being knocked out. I’m relieved neither Caleb nor Mason is in that position. But to be honest, neither has been in a while unless there is a mishap on the track or a mechanical issue. Collings Motors has some of the best cars in F1. We’re fighting Hoffman Racing for the Constructors’ Championship. Exciting times for F1 fans.

And stressful times for me, but in the best way possible.

Mason and Caleb leave the garage with enough time to put a second run on the board. Caleb improves his time. Mason does not, but it doesn’t matter. He’s in the second session, and that’s what counts.

I decide to try and talk to Mum whilst we’re waiting for the next session to start. “Caleb looked really good.”

She nods. “He’s coming into his own. He will be our number-one driver next year.”

I get prickly at that comment. “I think that should be decided by—and given to—whoever has the most points by the time we get to Abu Dhabi,” I say, referring to the final race of the season. “Like it’s always been.”

Mum sighs heavily. Then she simply walks away from me, going to mingle with the VIP visitors sitting at the back of the garage. Truthfully? I’m glad. I need a mental break from being with her all day and having to talk around the massive elephant in the paddock, so to speak.

I glance over at Mason’s car again. They have the cockpit monitors down and placed in front of him, so he can review the Q1 session that just happened before hitting the track again. I shift my attention between him and Caleb. Soon, cars begin leaving their garages to queue up for the opening of pit lane. This time, Mason takes off out of the garage first, followed shortly by Caleb. They are lined up third and fourth behind the cars of Drago, the Italian team.

I shift my attention to the monitor that shows the pit-lane entrance point, where more cars begin to stack up, waiting. All I want in this round is for both of them to comfortably make it into the final qualification session.

The light shifts from red to green, and my nervousness increases. Mason and Zach don’t talk a lot during this time, except for Zach giving him essential information. Mason starts his flying lap first, and my eyes are glued to the monitor showing his progress. His time is slower than it was in Q1. Then Caleb is running, and when his first sector time is shown, it lights up in purple—meaning he’s the fastest in that sector. I press my lips together as I keep track of both of them. Mason drops to fourth after his lap, but Caleb goes to first after he crosses the finish line.

Xavier is starting his flying lap now, and every sector is coming up in purple. UGH, he’s on a mission after losing to Mason last weekend.

“I have no grip on my front tyres,” Mason says on the radio. “When I was on the out lap, I might as well have been driving on a speed-skating oval.”

“Copy,” Zach says.

This is another weird thing about F1 racing. The track condition is continually evolving, so you can have a fantastic first session, but a bad second session. Mason can’t get his front-tyre temperature right, and that’s why he’s struggling with the car.

He comes back into the garage and reviews the monitors with Zach again. I check the standings. Xavier has thrown down another massive lap and is at the top. Caleb has dropped into second. Mason has been bumped to sixth.

He heads back out, and his times aren’t any better. He comes across the line and holds P6.

I exhale. One more round to go. I glance over at Mum, who is enjoying her time talking with some of the members of the communications team. Good. I’m glad she’s happily occupied now.