Chapter 28
LAWSON
“You look chipper for a man who’s about to race in his least favorite conditions.”
I glance from my teammate to the drizzle outside the garage. Shrugging, I continue to lace up my racing shoes.
“Nothing I can do about the weather, mate.”
“Wow, now that’s real growth.”
I sit back in my chair and glare at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m just saying, since dating my sister, you’ve grown to be a little… soft.”
“I am not soft.”
“Not completely. You definitely still have that hard exterior. You’re just more like a Drumstick ice cream cone now instead of a jaw breaker.”
I stare at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you taking the piss? What the hell are you yammering on about?”
Sighing, he plops down into the chair next to me. “There’s two Lawsons now. One who is pre-Sydney and one who is”—he waves a hand over me—“this.”
“I’m not sure if you’re insulting me or not.”
“Pre-Sydney Lawson would think I am.”
I point at myself. “And this Lawson won’t?”
He eyes me. “Maybe… but I’m already in too deep on this.
All I’m saying is the old Lawson would be sitting in a dark corner, getting ready for the race with his music blasting through his earphones, with a look on his face that has the interns praying they aren’t the one that has to come and get you for anything.
But that Lawson isn’t here today. No dark clouds, except the ones outside, are in sight and I’m pretty sure you were humming a moment ago. ”
I scoff. “I was not humming.”
He throws his hands up. “Who’s to say?”
“Apparently you!”
Chuckling, he pushes to stand and slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Now I’m taking the piss, you weren’t humming.”
“I know I wasn’t.”
“But you might want to tuck in the smirk you’ve been sporting since you got here, you’re starting to freak the rest of the garage out.”
I glare at his retreating back, his laughter evident in his shaking shoulders. Grumbling, I finish with my laces and stand, sliding my arms through the sleeves of my race suit.
My phone lights up with an incoming call at the same time as someone says my name. I nod at them as I pick up the vibrating device and slide the answer button. “Hello?”
“Son! I’m glad I caught you.”
My body turns to stone at the sound of his voice and I curse myself for not looking at who it was calling before answering. Rookie move, mate.
“I only have a minute,” I say in a clipped voice.
“Of course. I just wanted to quickly confirm your attendance for next weekend.”
I grit my teeth and take a deep breath. “I thought your secretary already reached out to confirm with Sydney?”
“Oh! Yes. I’m just re-confirming the list so that we can finalize the seating chart and menu.”
I need to hear it from your own mouth that you are willingly subjecting yourself to a night of suffering, is what he means but doesn’t have the balls to say.
“Yes,” I grit out. “We will be there.”
“Promptly at seven.”
“Seven,” I confirm, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.
Fuck, I’m going to need to run through another stretch before hopping into the car. I can feel my muscles coiling tight the longer he has me on the phone.
“And as for the meal. Trisha said something about an allergy?”
“Yes. Sydney is allergic to nuts and seeds, including any oils infused with them.”
He hums and I close my eyes, mentally hearing what lies behind the simple noise.
There’s nothing in this world that Gregory Moore hates more than weaknesses. The moment he spots one, that’s what that person becomes. You could be the queen of fucking England and all he would think of you is that you can’t sleep without a night light.
I would know.
Because to him, I was nothing but a disappointment. His own son, littered with faults and a wife who raised him to love those parts of himself instead of hiding them away from the world like his father wanted.
We may have never measured up to the twisted image of the “perfect” family he had concocted in his head, but even if we were, I don’t think it would have mattered.
Because we tried and he. Still. Left. Us.
All it took was for him to see our struggles to maintain his expectations.
It took years until my mother’s cries no longer haunted the halls of our home and we seemed to accept this new normal of it being just the two of us.
It took even more time to realize we were better off for it.
“Okay. Well that’s all I needed. See you in a week, Son.”
I wince at the way he can so easily use the word son. I haven’t been that to him since I watched him drive away for the last time at the age of eleven. Maybe even before that.
He doesn’t say anything else, not even a simple ‘good luck with the race’ before the line goes dead. I toss my phone onto my vacated chair and roll my shoulders.
“Oi, Moore! Giddy up, mate.”
I nod numbly and grab the rest of my gear. Going through the motions, I put in my earplugs, pull the balaclava over my head, and slide on my helmet. My mind continues to spiral as I secure my gloves and hop over the halo of my car, easing into the cockpit.
The good mood Jace accused me of just moments before is long gone, the two minute conversation with my father effectively burning up any residual lightness. Everyone moves around me and I run through the checks with my race engineer before being instructed to roll out.
The formation lap is a blur, the lights counting down to the race suddenly there and gone in an instant before I’m barreling down the track. Water sprays me from the surrounding cars, the rain instantly soaking my suit and rolling over my visor.
By lap ten, my back end has slipped out of my control more times than it has since I was a rookie and I’ve dropped from P4 to P7.
“Gap to Bern is point five seconds.”
“Understood.”
I press on the accelerator as the cold water starts to seep through and ease my burning body.
Taillights flash in front of me as the second-year driver slows in preparation for the turn.
I take his moment of hesitancy and accelerate.
It’s a risky move with the roads wet, but there’s an itch under my skin that pushes me to do it anyway.
My hands tighten on the wheel as I careen towards the turn. Just when I think I’m about to pull ahead, my tyres lock up. I slip into a puddle, swinging around into an uncontrolled spin.
Everything shakes when I collide with the side wall and I slowly open my eyes, mentally checking over myself to make sure everything feels okay.
“Moore, come in. You good, mate?”
“Yeah,” I croak, leaning my head back as far as the HANS device lets me and blow out a breath. “I’m just grand.”
Unlocking my wheel, I throw it onto the top of the car and unstrap. The rain pelts me, full force, as I pull myself out of the cockpit and swing my feet over the side. I wave down the safety team and load into the car that will escort me back to the garage.
My first and only DNF of my career that I have no one but to blame myself for. It wasn’t a malfunction with the car or someone else’s mistake taking me out alongside them.
No. This one is all on me.
I let him get in my head.
I couldn’t seal the door shut in my mind like I should once I get behind the wheel of the car. Like I’ve been able to do for years. Until today.
And because of my inability to block him out like I always have, I slipped into the mindset of that desperate little boy just trying to get his father’s approval. Yet nothing I did would ever be enough.
I wasn’t focused and I made the wrong judgement in pushing too hard with the conditions on the track. All because I couldn’t get the sound of his voice out of my head.
This loss is mine.
Just another downfall to add to the ever-growing list, I guess.
No one speaks to me when I enter the garage. No doubt the steel set of my shoulders and the fact I haven’t even taken my helmet off yet is what saves both them and me from any unsavory interactions.
I don’t stop until I’m in the team’s house, closing myself behind my dressing room door.
I stand in the middle of the room, my chest heaving and hands shaking at my sides. Thunder rolls outside and I close my eyes as I let the anger of the last hour finally overtake all my senses.
A scream builds in my throat and I turn to the closet wall, my fist flying through the thin material. My body vibrates as the rage continues to build in my chest.
I pull my hand back, clutching my fist. My jaw ticks at the slight ebb of pain and I silently curse myself.
I need to stop. All I need is an injury that takes me out for the rest of the season. I have to stop. Make the pain… just. Stop.
My chest heaves as I fail to quell the residual anger inside me. The echo of my heavy breaths fill my helmet and the visor fogs up.
I glance at the closet door, fractured with a fist-sized hole in the center. I catch my reflection in the mirror and pause. I’m soaked, dripping water onto the floor. Thunder rolls outside and I blink.
A broken yell bursts out of me and I bang my arms on the poor door. My head meets it next, the strength of my helmet splintering the weakened wood. I don’t stop, ripping and banging until there is nothing left but a few scraps hanging from the hinges.
I brace my hands on either side of the ruined area and drop my head as far as the HANS device lets me, trying to calm my breathing.
I don’t know how long I stand there, but with every passing second, the rage that’s slowly built over the last hour finally relents.
Arms band around my middle and I don’t even need to open my eyes to know who it is. There’s only one person in this entire universe that can ground me with a single touch.
Her pink-tipped nails dig into my race suit and I empty my lungs for the first time in what feels like forever.
“I thought I locked the door.” My voice is muffled by my helmet and I’m not even sure she’s heard me until I feel the slight shake of her head against my back.
“Even if you did, I would have done the same thing to it that you just did to this one if it meant getting to you.”
“I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“I’ve seen you upset before, darkling. You won’t scare me away.”
“Syd—”
“No,” she says firmly and I feel her move, slipping between my braced arms and the destroyed closet door. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever this is, I’m going to stay right here and help you through it.”
She gives me a soft smile and puts a hand on either side of my helmet. Pulling down, she doesn’t stop until her forehead is pressed against the visor.
“It’s you and me,” she whispers.
I let out a shaky breath and close my eyes. My arms wrap around her and I pull her into my chest. I let her soft chants that everything will be okay and that I’m not alone chase away any lingering darkness until there’s nothing but the warmth of her.
Today might not have gone the way I thought it would, but as I stand here with her in my arms, I know I’d go through hell and back all over again if she was still waiting for me at the end of it all.