Chapter 20
SUZUKA, JAPAN
I t was past ten at night when Indy’s phone lit up with a text from Miles.
GOLDEN BOY
You up?
Is this is a booty call?
Come to my room. 609
Take me out on a date first.
He replied with an emoji rolling its eyes, which made her chuckle. Pulling a jumper over her top, she walked out of her room towards the lifts.
Miles opened his door the moment she stopped knocking, like he’d been waiting for her arrival.
She felt her heart jump against her ribcage. He looked annoyingly good with his dishevelled hair, the stubble on his jaw, and his casual attire. Had he called her upstairs to hook up? God, she hoped not. She didn’t look attractive at all right now, but maybe he was still turned on by the photo she had sent earlier—a risqué shot displaying the top of her frilly negligee, to which he’d responded with a simple “ Fuck, you’re sexy .”
“Sorry for texting you so late.”
“It’s okay,” she assured sweetly. “You call, I come running. Remember?”
He paused, frowning. “I’m—I’ve never had someone put me first.”
“Well, might as well get used to it, stud.”
He’d been texting her since the end of the Grand Prix. At first, it had been to ask how her day went, then to apologise for his behaviour in the media pen, then started the music recommendations as well as exchanges of cat memes.
Indy had understood his reaction earlier. Deep down, she’d felt furious for him, too, but she’d managed to keep those feelings to herself. Now that she had stepped out of her journalist’s shoes for the day, she could express her sentiments.
“Are you okay?” She stepped closer, cataloguing his features stricken with something that made her chest ache. He was upset—she hated seeing him like this.
“I’m grand.” When he took a seat on the edge of the bed, he passed his fingers through his hair frustratingly.
Though she was craving to touch him, she folded her arms across her chest. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“Careful,” he droned, elbows atop his thighs. “I might start thinking you care about me.”
Indy held his gaze. “What are you going to do if I admit that I, in fact, care about you, Huxley? You’re going to walk away? Act like it doesn’t mean anything?”
“You shouldn’t care about me.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Because I do and I always have, so just accept it.”
He was silent—and she could almost hear the thoughts ricocheting against his mind. Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he scoffed a cold laugh before standing up. “I feel like a dick, Indy. I shouldn’t have talked to you that way in the media pen. I shouldn’t have walked away like that in the middle of the interview, but I was pissed off. Now I’m fine, but I’m so sorry for disrespecting you.”
A sigh fled past her lips, her shoulders falling. “You were totally entitled to react this way, and it’s okay. I’m not angry at you.”
“But I’m angry at myself. I’ve been working so fucking hard to be the man you know outside of racing in front of cameras, too. I’m trying my best to prove that I’m not some heartless man, and they saw the way I was with you, and I messed it up today by—by?—”
“Huxley,” she coaxed softly, coming to grip his shoulders. The tension pulling taut at his body went away, relief morphing onto his expression, into tenderness when her hands glided to his neck. “It’s okay.”
“How can you be so calm after seeing all the bullshit the media has said?”
She let her brows pinch together. “I’m not following.”
“They say you’re too sweet for me. That I’m an asshole who doesn’t deserve your attention. Who doesn’t respect your time or work in the paddock. They say I’ll never change. Never be worthy of you, of anything good in the world if I keep being a dick.”
Indy could feel a squeeze around her heart, hurting and destroying everything in its path. She blinked the burning feeling in her eyes away because to her, Miles was everything that was good and beautiful in this messy, imperfect world.
Keeping her gaze on his heaving chest for a moment, she started applying featherlight circles on the side of his neck. Although his body shuddered lightly, she could feel it inside her bones. “Fuck those people who criticise everything you do, everything you say. Fuck them, really. I know you, and I see you, both my friend and the F1 driver. I’m never going to be mad at you for expressing the way you feel after a race, and I’m certainly not going to let you treat me like I’m made of glass when we’re inside or outside of the paddock.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I can handle it, you know.” She kept her head high, refusing to crumble to pieces. “The anger. The frustration. The silence that says more than words. I can handle it all. It’s my job, and I need you to stop treating me like I can’t handle your rage when we’re on live TV, because I can.”
A deep crease appeared between his knitted brows. “Where is this coming from? I know you can. You’re the strongest person I know.”
She dropped her hands from his skin. “So stop acting like I’m fragile.”
The confusion brimming his irises was crystal clear. “I’m not.”
He took a step forward, and Indy inhaled tremulously.She was sick and tired of the comments accusing her of being treated differently because she was Zachary Bailey’s daughter. Sick and tired of thinking she wasn’t tough enough to be a presenter.
The rage blended to his deep voice made her skin pebble. “Who the fuck hurt you?”
“I’m sick and tired of all those people treating me like I’m not good enough for this job. Of those saying that I don’t belong here because the Princess of the Paddock is nothing more than Zach’s spoiled daughter. I’m tired of the people saying I’m only working in F1 to date you.”
Because she wasn’t! This job had been her dream way before Miles came into her life.
It was when she furiously batted a tear away that she realised she’d started crying in the midst of her monologue.
She had felt that upsetting sensation flooding her senses all evening long—that feeling of knowing she would be crying soon enough, but refused to break down until she was alone. Of course, it had to be now that the dam went bursting, all her emotions taking over.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking away. She wiped at her cheeks again. “This wasn’t supposed to be about me.”
Gently, Miles lifted her chin with the help of his finger. “Can you look at me?”
When she found his gaze, she felt that familiar devastation crash over her. He was looking at her with so much adoration, tenderness, comprehension, yet she couldn’t fall into him.
He cupped her face between both hands, forcing her to maintain his hypnotising stare. When his thumb collected a tear beneath her eye, she shivered and leaned into his touch.
“Never apologise for expressing your feelings when you’re with me. You know I won’t judge you, right? You know I won’t undermine you. You’re safe here.”
She nodded, throat too tight and eyes too watery.
“What’s got you so upset?”
She was tired. Lonely. Stressed out. But she said, “I’m afraid of disappointing everyone. I feel pressured. I work so hard, but it’s always the little mistakes that people remember instead of my accomplishments and milestones. I’m terrified of failure. Of failing the fans, my parents, my brother, my friends.”
It had never felt so good to finally set her thoughts free. Being the positive and uplifting friend had always made her believe that she wasn’t allowed to feel down. To be negative.
“Indy,” he murmured, “everyone is so proud of you. You’re inspiring, empowering, and courageous. Girls look up to you. Boys do, too. Hell, even us drivers do.”
“But my parents?—”
“Are the best kind of people. Lisa and Zach are amazing, and you’re so lucky to be their daughter. I know they weren’t often at home when you and Kai were growing up, and I know they’ve always been hard on you, but that’s because they want to see you succeed. But I know that the moment you make a silly mistake, Lisa and Zach will fly across the world to cheer you up, just because you’re simply a human being. You were raised by extraordinary people. You’re surrounded by people who love you so fucking much, Indy.”
She blinked rapidly. “You’re making me cry.”
His thumb ran below her eye. “I hate seeing you like this.”
See this man? This was the man she wanted to keep to herself. He would go through fires to keep her safe and unscathed, to pull her out of that abyss of worry.
“Come here.” He pulled her towards the bed, and they sat close to each other as he took hold of her hand, lacing their fingers together. Indy laid her head on his shoulder, and she sighed when his cheek touched the top of her head. “We live in a world where failure isn’t an option. If we fail, if we make a mistake, we get laughed at and we disappoint many people. But I’m going to tell you something: I think failing is the best lesson life can teach us. You can learn from your mistakes, rise above them, and become the version no one expected you to be.”
“Is that why you became like this after your first title?”
She felt him shrug. “I guess so. I wanted to put a mask on to let the public see what they were working with. Who they were watching. I’ve been doubted for many, many years, read countless articles enumerating reasons why I wasn’t champion-worthy. I think part of me didn’t want the world to see how vulnerable I could be. It’s like I built a barrier between racing and my private life, you know? But sometimes I wish they could stop criticising me.”
Keeping her gaze on their interlocked fingers, she observed the way his thumb caressed her skin. “I think I understand that shift. Sometimes I just want to become a bitch, become a woman people fear. I want to show my teeth, make them fear me. But it’s not me, it’s not in my nature.”
“Don’t change. For anyone. You know why you’re such a great presenter? You’re authentic, real. You’re simply you , and it’s so fucking beautiful and refreshing.”
The lump in her throat grew again. “Thank you.” Despite it all, she was having a hard time seeing the positive outcome of her work. It was exhausting because she was an overachiever, and all she craved was validation and good results.
For a moment, there was silence—peace, comfort. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed it back—although firmly, causing her to chuckle lightly when she did it again, trying to apply more force.
“Look at me,” he murmured with such delicacy that she felt the softness caress her bones. With his finger beneath her chin, he brought her gaze to him. The sight of her tear-stained cheeks and glossy eyes made him sigh, like the sight of her detriment shattered him. “Do not let your fears break you. Do not let anyone or anything break you. They don’t deserve your tears. Keep your chin high. Give them your beautiful smile.”
And she gave it to him, a smile broad and unrestrained. A soft exhale fled past his lips as he watched her adoringly, the pad of his thumb skimming her under-eye then her dimple.
“You’re going to be so successful, Indigo. More successful than me, and I cannot wait to see you thrive and cheer you on. I just cannot wait to watch you accomplish big goals, change the world, and be the person who inspires our generation to take the leap and live their dream.”
“Huxley…”
“I mean it,” he whispered, leaning forward to let his forehead rest against hers. The ache in her chest stretched out, hurting, breaking her to pieces. She closed her eyes to hold a semblance of control over her emotions. “I’m going to wear merch that says ‘ Indy Bailey’s #1 Babe’ and proudly wear it every time I walk through the paddock. Going to make everyone wear it. Even Kai when he snowboards. Even Romeo and Ez before they hit the ice.”
She chuckled as streams of tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t even know why she was still crying. Perhaps she needed to let go—all of it. The past few months were tough, and she hadn’t realised how much energy she’d been pouring into her work until today. “Is that my fandom name?”
“From now on it is. We’re your babes.”
She covered her mouth when a giggle erupted, and Miles pulled away to bring her hand down. “Don’t hide from me.”
He meant her laugh, but maybe also her vulnerability. She wanted to give him everything.
“My real laugh is obnoxious.”
He smiled so beautifully that she blushed. “I find it endearing. It’s cute. And funny. Like, it makes me want to laugh, too. When you laugh, your entire face lights up. You have those little crinkles on the outsides of your eyes, that little dimple on your chin appearing.”
“You—you noticed all that?”
He was silent for a beat. “How could I not?” he breathed out.
No one had ever noticed the tiniest details about her.
She was used to men looking at her, to grab someone’s attention by simply walking into a room, but with Miles… He’d always looked at her differently—like he saw her.
When Miles cradled her jaw, his thumb ghosting over the spot where a dimple would pop if she laughed too hard, she felt the tremble in his fingers. Their gazes locked, and she heard the way he swallowed. His pupils expanded, his fingers moving until they cupped the back of her head, tangling into her hair.
The distance between them was minuscule as the tip of his nose grazed hers. Her breath caught, then she was fisting his shirt. She shivered when his palm landed on her waist, delicate and burning.
“Indy,” he whispered. And she heard it through his gruff tone—the yearning, the longing, the craving. The way his voice was strained, like it physically pained him to be so close yet so far away. She wanted him to break his rules, to finally give in.
Their breaths entwined, and their lips were so, so close to locking. His chest rose and fell, his skin blazing when her free hand travelled up his arm. Indy shut her eyes, revelling in the moment, memorising the feel of his hands in her hair, his thumb dusting over her pulse, her name sounding like a prayer on his lips.
The taut, invisible cord between them was on the cusp of breaking, and yet…
“I should go,” she said, backing away just enough to watch his reaction: utter wreckage before it shifted into understanding. She refused to be the one to cross the line first, no matter how much she wanted this.
She was waiting for it—for him to say “ don’t go ”, but it never came.
Though he said, “Yeah. It’s getting late,” he didn’t disentangle his hand from her locks, a staggered breath brushing past his parted mouth.
She didn’t want any more pity fucks. Didn’t want to sleep with him to release the anxiety, and stress, and chagrin. If she were to give herself to him, she needed to know that he was willing to accept all of her. No games, no chasing. She didn’t want either of them to walk away after finding release. Didn’t want to go back to the way it was before—casual.
She still couldn’t fathom why he made her want him so bad but gave her nothing back. Pulling away was such a torturous sensation that made her chest twist and ache—a sensation she had learned to live with.
Miles ran a hand over his flushed face—in frustration she supposed—and walked her to the door.
He cleared his throat. “You okay?”
No, she was not. She’d probably cry again in her room by replaying his words, his verbal applause. Then she’d cry by remembering she had pushed him away. And she’d cry again just because she felt like sobbing.
“Yes. Thank you.”
He studied her expression for a beat. Like he could see past her tough layers and knew she was lying. Like he understood her need of being alone to break. “Of course. I’ll text you.”
She was already out of his room when she peered over her shoulder and said, “I don’t expect anything less coming from you, Golden Boy. Good night.”
His whisper caressed the shell of her ear. “Night, Daisy.”
And as Indy stood in the lift, observing her rosy cheeks, glinting eyes, and small smile, she wondered what would have happened if she had just leaned forward to finally kiss the man she’d loved her entire life.