Chapter 31
MONTREAL, CANADA
“ B e careful in turn eight. Watch out for track limits.”
Rowan nodded at his race engineer’s remark. “I’ve got it.”
Driving at a slower pace to keep his tyres warm, Rowan drove through the circuit. Slight drizzle was falling on the entire track, though the weather forecast had predicted heavy rain by the end of the qualifying session.
“My call is to leave the intermediate compounds on.”
Rowan scoffed as he flew past another car almost at a full stop on the side of the track. “I’ll be fine. I won’t slip if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not,” Jamie chided.
“Liar.”
There were less than two minutes left before the end of Q3. From afar, Rowan saw the starting line and got ready to start his qualifying lap.
He wasn’t one to boast, but Rowan liked to think he was one of the best drivers in the rain. He knew how to control his car, its anchors, its grip. Knew how to handle the speed and anticipate the braking.
And having a wet qualifying at the Circuit Gilles-Villeneuve was exhilarating. This track was a thrilling one because it was quick, flowing, and filled with many heavy-braking chicanes.
The start of his lap went smoothly, knowing by his unbridled speed that he had just set the fastest lap-time in sector one. With that unrestrained pace, he focused on the dry line created by other cars to drive through the rest of the track. But taking turn eight, he felt his rear slip, causing him to lose time and drive off track before regaining control.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
He finished the lap, knowing he had set the fastest time in sector three as well despite his minor error.
“Tell me we have it,” Rowan asked, decreasing his pace.
A beat passed before Jamie’s voice filtered through. “You had it, but your lap time has been deleted because of the track limits in turn eight.”
“Damn it.” He shook his head, disappointed. “Don’t tell me ‘I told you so.’”
Jamie chuckled. “I wasn’t going to.”
“You were thinking about it, though.” He had run a lap at the beginning of Q3, so he would start Sunday’s race based on that first run. “What’s my position then?”
“P3.”
“Good.”
Rowan was gutted, but he had to tell himself it was a great qualifying result, regardless.
When he parked his car and got out of it, he congratulated his teammate who had qualified second, then Miles who, obviously, was on pole.
Watching Miles go up to his father to share a tight hug, Rowan felt his heart twist until an unbreakable knot formed. He tore his helmet off, unable to shake that longing feeling away.
A firm hand clapped him on the back, and Rowan grinned at Tate who had come to congratulate him.“I’m proud of you.”
Rowan understood then, that family didn’t necessarily mean sharing the same bloodline. Tate was his family, and that girl smiling proudly at him from afar was his family, too.
His home.
Rowan checked the time on his phone again, exhaling frustratingly when he noticed Avery hadn’t responded to him.
Was she ignoring him? Was she angry at him?
“Trouble in paradise?” Thiago asked from his side as they sat in the hotel’s lobby, waiting for their respective PR officers to accompany them to the track.
Thiago’s PR officer was busy having a conversation with the receptionist, but Avery was nowhere in sight. She hadn’t answered any of Rowan’s text messages since last night. He was worried. To the point he’d felt anxiety rattle his entire body because the mere thought of her leaving was destroying him.
“Not sure what you’re talking about,” Rowan answered before adjusting the cap on his head.
A knowing smirk touched the corner of his teammate’s lips. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, able to see directly through Rowan’s nonchalant lie. “You should give her a call.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Wow, thank you loads for the suggestion. Why didn’t I think of that? She isn’t answering, genius.”
Thiago frowned. “Do you want me to give it a try?”
Shaking his head, Rowan dialled Avery’s number again. “I’ve got it.”
As he pressed the device to his ear, he watched his teammate type on his own phone, a growing smile brightening his features.
Such a lovesick imbecile.
“Hi!” Avery finally answered. Rowan let out a relieved sigh at the sound of her voice, straightening himself. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t ignoring you. I’m just not feeling well, but I’ll be down in a minute—”
“Where are you?” he cut in, standing up.
He heard a sniffle from her side of the line, and he scurried to the lifts, his heart pounding with disquietude. “My room. But I’ll be right there.”
“You don’t sound okay. What’s your room number?”
“Rowan—”
“Room number, sunflower,” he repeated firmly.
“208.”
“I’m on my way.”
Rowan’s pulse was deafening as he knocked on her door. He observed his surroundings, finding relief when no other team member of Primavera Racing was lurking around. Most of them were already at the circuit, anyway. Still, taking the risk was worth it. It always was when it came to her.
As soon as the door opened, he surged into the room, tucking Avery into his chest.
“Are you okay?” he asked, breathless, tightening his hold around her small frame. He felt his heart churn when her small hands fisted around the back of his shirt, as though she didn’t want to let go of him, either.
“I’m fine,” she said hoarsely.
Rowan pulled away, slightly confused by her tone full of fatigue. When he looked at her, he raised his brows in surprise. “You look like shit.”
She rolled her eyes, pushing him away playfully. “You have such a way with words. Best compliment award goes to you.”
“Evidently,” he replied with equal sarcasm. He gripped her chin, tilting her head backwards to observe her reddened nose, puffy eyes, and pale face. “Who did this to you? Did someone hurt you? Is it Nikki? Did she say something to you? Where is she—”
“The weather,” was her blunt answer. “I caught the flu or something. But I can go to work, it’s okay.”
The back of his hand touched her forehead, and he frowned. “You’re burning up. No work for you today.”
“But it’s the Grand Prix!” she argued as he directed her towards the bed. “I can’t miss this day.”
“You can and you will. Stop being stubborn.”
She was now sitting on the edge of the mattress, hooded eyes staring back at him. She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, sighing softly when he kneeled before her.
“Who’s going to replace me?”
Rowan winked before undoing her shoelaces. “You’re irreplaceable. But I’ll check with Thiago to see if his PR officer can work with me today, too.”
Avery nodded, contemplating his words for a few heartbeats. “Okay. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday after dinner, and I thought I’d feel better if I went to bed early. I hate that I’m letting you down today.”
“Hey,” he coaxed, rising to his full height before going into her suitcase to retrieve a pyjama set. “It’s not your fault, baby. I just—I was so worried about you. You haven’t been answering me, and I thought you were mad at me for something.”
Avery lowered her gaze. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“I know,” he murmured, helping her out of her Primavera Racing polo. His heart ached when she grunted in agony. Her body must have been aching. “I don’t know how to take care of others, but I promise I’ll take care of you.”
Her expression softened, yet it was evident she wasn’t comfortable with the fact that Rowan was putting her well-being above everything else. “But you need to get to the circuit. Like, now.”
“I know, and I’ll leave soon. But you come before anything else in this entire world.”
“Never before racing,” she tried to counter.
“Always before everything,” he pressed, holding her gaze.
Deep down, Rowan wasn’t certain anything could ever overpower his love and dedication to Formula 1, but maybe he could make an exception for Avery. He was, at that exact moment.
“Don’t be late,” she whispered. “You’ll get in trouble.”
“I’ve got this.”
When she had changed out of her work attire and tucked under her bed sheets, Rowan walked towards the mini kitchen and started brewing some tea.
“I can’t believe I wasn’t there to help you last night and this morning,” he mumbled, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.
Seeing Avery so frail and worn out was akin to being set on fire. It was torture. He hated seeing her like this. She was always such a vibrant, sparkling person.
“No worries,” she said so quietly that he almost hadn’t heard her.“I’m fine.”
His phone chimed, and he let out a heavy breath.
Tito
Everything ok?
Rowan
Avery caught the flu or some shit.
Taking care of her now but I’ll be down in a few
Tito
I hope she feels better soon!
We just need to leave in five so be quick. I’m covering for you.
Rowan
Thanks. What did you say?
Tito
That you’re taking your morning shit
Rowan
Dumbass
“Okay, here.”
He set a steaming cup of tea with lemon and honey on her bedside table, along with a glass of water and painkillers he had found in the bathroom.
“I know you’re not feeling well at all, but try to get as many fluids in as you can. There’s chamomile tea here and water. Shoot me a text if anything goes wrong. Tate will have my phone and I’ll figure something out to send someone to check up on you.”
A small smile tugged her lips upwards. “I love this side of you.”
“Which one?”
“The caring guy.”
“I only care about you,” he admitted gruffly. “You know that, right?”
She nodded, tremors racking her entire body.
He couldn’t leave her. But his phone rang, and he declined Thiago’s call.
He tucked the covers until they were secured under her chin. Rowan didn’t quite know what to do—she was shivering yet burning up all at once. “You okay, baby?”
She blinked, nodding. “I’ll be okay. I promise I’ll watch the race from here.”
“Just try to get some rest, that’s all I’m asking.” He brushed her sweat-dampened bangs away from her forehead, feeling an ache in his chest to see her so fatigued. “It’s killing me to see you like this.”
“I’ll be okay,” she repeated.
He let his lips tilt in a minuscule smile. “I’ll bring you soup after the race.”
“Sounds good.”
Leaning forward, Rowan planted a lingering kiss on her burning forehead. He left a caress on her cheekbone, smiling when she watched him in awe. His heart clenched, and it cemented something in him.
“I lo—” He stopped himself and cleared his throat, surprised by the words that had almost slipped out of their free will. “I’ll be back soon. Please get some rest.”
“Good luck, champ. I believe in you.”
Rowan squeezed his eyes shut and took another deep breath as she turned on her side to lie in a comfortable position. He flexed his fingers and finally turned on his heel, but whilst his heart urged him to stay here and take care of her, his head was telling him to stay focused and concentrate on his career.
He left her room with a heavy chest, only to find Eliott walking out of the lifts and heading towards his direction.
“What are you doing here?” Rowan asked coldly.
Eliott jerked his chin towards the end of the corridor. “Coming to check on Ava. She was supposed to leave with us fifteen minutes ago.”
Rowan grabbed the back of the photographer’s neck, forcing him to walk back into the lifts. “She’s sick. She’s not coming today.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. She’s taken care of.”
Eliott shrugged. It took every ounce of willpower for Rowan not to smash his head against a wall. Not only was this guy interested in his girl, but it seemed like, lately, he was getting too close to her—prying too much into her business.
Besides, Rowan didn’t want that man anywhere near Avery.
“And what were you doing here?” Eliott finally asked when they stepped inside the lifts.
Rowan tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Why do you care? Went to check on her since she’s my PR officer and my shadow.”
“You can be such a dick,” the other guy mustered.
“Thank you.”
Eliott only narrowed his gaze on him, and Rowan couldn’t help but think this was the beginning of trouble.
Rowan was on Thiago’s tail as they drove inside the hairpin. As his teammate reaccelerated after the turn, Rowan followed him closely by staying aligned with the car, hoping to seek a slipstream and gain extra speed as they flew down the straight line. Whilst the dirty air caused slight turbulence on his vehicle, he managed to control his speed, sensing the heat of the circuit and the sparks igniting on the asphalt mixing with the thrill oscillating through his veins.
Lap 12 , he read on the sign a mechanic had brandished when he crossed the line.
Fifty-eight more to go.
He hit the brake late before taking the chicane, and when his foot pushed on the throttle to regain full speed, he felt his car lose control.
Everything was a blur to Rowan as the car dragged through the track at an unstoppable speed. When the vehicle came to a halt by crashing into a protective fence, he heard a buzzing sound in his ears, the smell of smoke enveloping him in a cloud.
One moment he’d been driving normally, the next one he lost his front end and spun, hitting the barrier and causing a wheel to detach from the vehicle.
Then, complete darkness.