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Liam
I spend the week before the Hungarian Grand Prix collaborating with the team, testing my car, working out, and spending time with Sophie. The latter ditched me when her dad asked her to spend a few hours with him.
Jax and I hang out in the McCoy gym. It’s an athlete’s playground housing all types of equipment, reflex trainers, and the best F1 simulation system. The smell of cleaning supplies and sweat welcomes us as we get a workout in between our packed schedules.
“I’ve barely seen you all week. You’re going to ditch me, leaving me to make friends with Santiago and that silent and brooding asshole from Vitus. You know the guy. He looks like some Michelangelo statue with the personality of one too. Stiff wanker.” Jax’s muscles flex as he lifts a dumbbell.
I withhold my chuckle. “Well, Noah and Maya aren’t a thing. And I’ve been busy doing my job.”
“Those two might as well be. Noah stares after her all the time, and Maya avoids him like he has an STD.”
I clutch the weight in my hand. “Eh, I don’t know about them. Noah’s not one for commitment.”
“And what? You’re a commitment advocate all of a sudden?”
I shrug, trying to come off more nonchalant than I feel.
“Oh shit, is the mighty Liam thinking about a real relationship? Is the sex that good with your Bandini princess?”
It’s easy to forget how effortlessly he reads me. I increase the speed of my reps. “Again, it’s not like that. We’re just having fun. I don’t want to talk about what we do in private with you.”
He looks at me stunned. “Since when do you not care to share info about whatever girl you’re shagging?”
I grit my teeth together. “Starting now. Stop making a big deal out of nothing.”
Jax leans his head against the workout bench, his chest shaking from laughing. “Shit. Relax, I was fucking with you. I wanted to see how serious you are about her, but I guess it’s nothing but sex between you two.”
My chest tightens. “Did you forget to take your meds today? I forgot if being a total dick was a withdrawal symptom.”
He howls from another laugh. Jax doesn’t find my low blow the least bit hurtful, pissing me off more. I hate his words because they hit true. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, with Sophie agreeing to my terms because I’m a selfish shit who wants her and our friendship.
I distract myself with jumping rope. Jax grunts as he switches to the cardio machine. He discards his T-shirt, revealing most of his tattoos. A badass motherfucker, going through that kind of pain for a body full of tattoos.
“And you’re not the slightest bit concerned of her wanting more than friendship from you?” His gaze sizes me up.
“No, we added benefits, not vows. Stop being such a shit friend right now, looking to get a rise out of me.” I’m glad I never shared Sophie’s list with him because he’d give me crap all day about it.
He whistles at me. “All right. I’m sorry. I’ll drop it so don’t get your knickers in a twist. But just so you know, this will never turn out well.”
I shake my head as I wrap up the last set of jumps. “I don’t know why you keep making such a huge deal about this thing with Sophie.”
He fiddles with the treadmill’s buttons. “I’m warning you that you might not like the end result if you don’t face your shit.”
Guilt sits heavy in my gut at the ramifications of a new contract with McCoy. I never told Jax about Rick’s call, afraid to face the truth. But the truth has a funny way of catching up to me whether I like it or not.
* * *
Crew members work around the garage, checking on the cars while my engineers talk to me about logistics. I tell them the different issues I found while practicing. People underestimate the amount of time racers spend with the crew, testing out new theories and working through problems. Besides racing and attending parties, I spend a shit ton of time in business meetings.
I crave winning this race. Even though Peter offered me a contract extension, I don’t want to feel a false sense of hope since he hasn’t gotten back to me about my counteroffer regarding the anti-Sophie clause.
Claudia hasn’t attended any other events since the gala where she met Sophie, thank fuck. Her absence helped me repair my relationship with the team and Peter. He seems in better spirits, even going as far as giving me a clap on the back after a McCoy press conference.
Despite Peter’s good mood, I won’t close myself off from other teams, no matter how much I like McCoy. They need to revisit their deal and come back with a better offer, preferably one that doesn’t include giving up someone I care about for racing.
Peter shows up out of nowhere, gracing the garage with his presence. The fancy suit he wears sticks out against the crews’ fire suits and headgear. “You’ve been doing amazing this season, Liam. Place in the top three for us, why don’t you?” He grins at me.
“I plan on it.” I continue with my pre-race checks, killing an hour before the race. I’m man enough to admit I get pre-race jitters and whatever fucker says different is a liar.
