CHAPTER 17
Willow
The second Dev storms into the garage, I’m moving toward him.
I rip off my headset and toss it down on the first available surface, homing in on him without a second thought. Not even the stiff ache in my hips from sitting in hard chairs and hours spent standing can hold me back.
Mark tries, though.
He grasps my upper arm, causing me to stumble to a stop. I pull my shoulders back, snapping my head up and shooting him a frown. We’re both lucky he didn’t pull hard enough to do damage.
Before I can open my mouth to reprimand him, he’s shaking his head.
‘Leave him alone.’ The words are low but firm, and there’s little room for me to argue back.
Sucks for him that I’m going to do exactly that. ‘I think I’ll take my chances.’
I’m equally firm, holding his gaze until he slowly loosens his grip. Reluctantly, he searches my face, and his fingertips graze the back of my arm as they finally fall away.
I ignore the way he calls my name in warning as I stride off again, heading to where Dev disappeared out the back of the garage. I’m not fast enough to catch up to him, but I think I know where he’s going.
The door to Dev’s driver room is closed when I reach it. I knock, though I don’t wait for an answer before slipping inside and shutting it behind me.
Dev is on the other side of the small room, head down, fingers buried in his hair, pacing. The set to his shoulders is tense under his fireproof shirt, like he’s barely holding back the urge to drop his hands and hit something. His unzipped race suit flutters around his hips when he turns at the sound of the door closing, and my heart breaks at the pain on his face.
I stay where I am. If he asks me to leave, I will, no questions. Until that happens, though, I’m sticking around. He shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.
No one likes to drop out of a race early, but based on his reaction, this isn’t just a DNF. Something else is at play.
‘I have to leave this team,’ he declares, voice cracking on the last word. He finally drops his hands and balls them into fists at his sides, leaving his hair a mess. The heat of his anger has turned cold. ‘I can’t stay here while they sabotage me over and over again. I’m wasting my whole fucking career.’
I keep quiet. He needs to get this out before it eats him alive. Dev is always a positive force. Always a yes-man. But for once, he’s allowing his true frustration to show.
‘There was nothing wrong with the car,’ he goes on, speaking in a rush. ‘Sturgill said the order to retire came straight from Buck. He set me up. Asshole screwed me over so I’ll stop embarrassing his son – and so I look less appealing to any team who might be interested in me.’ He grunts in disgust and shakes his head, his damp hair falling across his forehead. ‘I have to get out of here. Before they ditch me first.’
Why would they do this to him? It doesn’t make sense. Dev is an amazing driver. He consistently scores points, keeping the team from being completely annihilated in the Constructors’ Championship, so why would they want to ruin his chances of success? It’s like cutting off their nose to spite their face.
‘Don’t you still have a year left on your contract?’ I ask. ‘Don’t they have to honour it?’
Dev snorts and shakes his head, returning to stalking back and forth across the floor. ‘That contract doesn’t mean shit. I’ve seen guys get paid out and then never drive again. I don’t want that to be me. It can’t be. I won’t let it.’
He’s growing agitated again, like a tiger pacing in a too-small cage. Argonaut is holding him back, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen him lose his shit over it. But I’m sure it’s not the first time it’s ever happened.
I never got to bring up the topic of changing the direction of his image revamp, but if he’s going to leave Argonaut, he’s going to need all the help he can get to find another team and stay in F1.
‘If they’re going to fuck me over, maybe I should do the same to them,’ Dev rambles on, stopping again in the centre of the room. He’s staring at me, but it’s like he’s looking right through me. ‘Crash in every practice and qualifying and race so they have to spend a ton of money to fix the car. We’d be constantly penalized because of all the modifications. It would be a disaster for everyone, not just me.’
To snap like this, to consider sabotaging everything he’s worked for, is extreme. But he’s angry and reacting, and I can’t blame him for it.
Wishing I could do more to soothe him, I softly say, ‘You’re not going to do that, Dev.’
He blinks in rapid succession like he’s realizing I’m here for the first time. And then his shoulders slump and his eyes slide shut as he composes himself. When they open again, I’m no longer speaking to the caged predator. My Dev is back, even if he’s missing that glowing lightness.
‘Willow,’ he exhales, fingers uncurling from fists. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that. I didn’t mean it. I’m just . . .’ He trails off, dragging a hand through his hair again before shaking his head with a sad, short laugh. ‘Fuck, I don’t know what to do any more.’
I sink my teeth into my lower lip, wishing I could offer a solution past what we’ve already set into motion.
‘Until teams stop seeing me as a liability,’ Dev goes on, defeat seeping into his voice, ‘no one’s going to want me.’
Pain sparks in my chest at his admission. It feels like a literal impossibility that none of the teams would want Dev. Maybe his reputation isn’t spectacular right now – though it’s improving by the day – but his racing speaks for itself. He’s fought tooth and nail for every point he’s scored with Argonaut. It doesn’t take an engineer or a physicist to know the machinery he’s working with isn’t anywhere close to being on par with Mascort or Specter Energy, but his qualifying times are rarely more than a second off the leader’s pace. And nine times out of ten, he out-qualifies his nepo-baby teammate.
His dedication is obvious, and a person would have to be completely ignorant to miss his hunger for more. He has everything it takes to be a champion, except for a team that can – or even wants to – make him one.
And yeah, he’s talking about his racing career here, but I wish I could tell him how much his friends, his family and his fans love him and want him. How much I want him.
‘We’re fixing it,’ I declare. I’m itching to move closer and grip him by the shoulders to drive my point home. But I don’t. It’s best to keep my distance when emotions are running this high. ‘Things are already starting to look better. Does Howard know you want out?’
Dev nods and slowly draws in a breath, like he’s tamping down his feelings so he can focus on logic. ‘I’ve told him to put feelers out, but he hasn’t come back with any solid leads. He keeps telling me to stick it out here, to give it my all so my chances are better when my contract is almost up. But how can I expect my chances to improve when Argonaut won’t even let me race?’
His composure cracks again, his expression twisting with anger and grief. Argonaut holds his dreams in its hands and can crush them at will. Hell, they’re already squeezing – and hard.
I can’t resist any more. I take a few quick steps toward him, only halting when we’re toe to toe and my palms are splayed on his chest. His heart is raging, battering his ribs. I’m pushing the limits right now, but he needs to know that he’ll get through this. And that I’m on his side.
‘Hey,’ I urge, scanning his face, noting that the resentment in his expression fades just a little. ‘It’s going to be okay. We’ll get you through this, and you’re going to sign with a team that actually values you. It might not be tomorrow, or next month, or by the end of this season, but you’re going to get what you want.’ I swallow past the emotion welling up. ‘Okay? I know it. And I’ll do whatever I can to make sure of it.’
I slide my hands around to his back and up to his shoulder blades, then shuffle in to hug him tight, my cheek pressed to his chest. He’s stiff in my arms, his own still down by his sides, and for a moment, I panic, worrying that I’ve done the wrong thing. I’m testing the boundaries of our friendship, of our professional relationship, but how am I supposed to leave him without comfort when it’s clear he needs it?
I’m just loosening my hold, ready to surrender and pull away, when he gently wraps his arms around my shoulders. He drops his forehead to the top of my head, suddenly enveloping me in his hold. I’ve hugged Dev countless times, from quick one-armed squeezes to tackled embraces, but there’s something so different about the way he’s holding me now – like if he lets go, he’ll break.
Holding him just as fiercely, I shut my eyes and breathe him in. I don’t care that he’s sweaty and smells faintly of gasoline. I only want to press myself closer and stay there for ever. We fit perfectly, as if I was always meant to be wrapped up with him.
He exhales heavily against my hair and mumbles, ‘I’m sorry,’ but he doesn’t lift his head. ‘I know this isn’t what you signed up for. You’re supposed to be posting silly pictures of me, not talking me off the ledge.’
‘I don’t care,’ I reply, my voice muffled by his shirt. ‘You’re allowed to be upset. Because this is incredibly shitty.’
His chest vibrates under my cheek as he chuckles. ‘Hearing you curse is still so thrilling.’
‘Shut up.’ I squeeze him tighter for one more second before convincing myself to finally let him go. I’m afraid if I don’t do it now, I never will.
He’s wearing an exhausted half smile when I pull back enough to look up at him, and I let my hands linger on his pecs, soaking in his warmth. Then, with a slow breath, I make myself drop them.
‘Thank you for letting me vent,’ he says. ‘And for talking me out of wrecking a multimillion-dollar car.’
I snicker and shake my head, but I’m fighting a grin and the largest kaleidoscope of butterflies my stomach has ever battled. ‘I can’t believe you let me see you being anything less than perfect.’
‘It happens sometimes.’
His voice is warm, but the intensity in his eyes fills me with heat. I have to glance away. Otherwise, I’ll be tempted to make another mistake.
‘You want to finish Om Shanti Om tonight?’ he asks, blessedly turning away so he can grab a towel from the shelf. He scrubs it over his face, wiping away that look in his eye. ‘I could use a laugh. And I could stand to get lost in someone else’s drama for a while.’
I absolutely want to spend the evening with him, but I’m quickly reminded of how our last movie night ended. ‘Is Mark going to come chase you away again?’ I ask drily.
He snorts and tosses the towel to the side, confirming what I suspected before. Mark was the reason Dev left my room so suddenly last week.
‘We’ll have to see,’ he says, snagging a bottle of water off the table and cracking the lid. ‘He may not even let me out after curfew.’
I bite the inside of my cheek to distract myself from the little pang of hurt. Moving over to the small couch, I sit and draw my knees to my chest.
‘I know Mark doesn’t like me very much,’ I say. I’ve always kept that thought to myself. But if Dev’s shown me anything today, it’s that our hurts are better let out than kept in. ‘I get why, though.’
‘What?’ he says, searching my face in disbelief. ‘That’s not true.’
I shake my head, averting my eyes. ‘You don’t have to pretend. It’s clear he doesn’t like having me around. I probably remind him of everything with Jeremy – of how I ruined your friendship with him and the other guys.’
‘You didn’t ruin anything.’ His voice is gritty and sure. ‘You know that, right?’
‘Yeah, of course.’ I wave a hand, brushing away his question and my blatant lie. ‘It’s just—’
‘No, seriously.’ He sets the bottle of water on the table and stalks forward until he’s standing in front of me. ‘None of that was your fault. Jeremy was an absolute piece of shit. That’s why we cut him off. And the guys who sided with him? Also pieces of shit. We grew up together, sure, but that doesn’t mean we were supposed to stay friends for ever. I’m not interested in wasting time on people who think treating anyone the way Jeremy treated you is okay.’
His words hit me like a wave of relief. One I didn’t realize I needed. But none of that explains why Mark can’t stand being around me.
‘Then why does Mark hate me?’ I blurt.
The second the words leave my mouth, I wish I could pull them back in. I’m a people-pleaser down to my core. I’ve always cared more than I should about whether people like me. That habit has waned a bit over the past few years, which can certainly be attributed to Chantal’s and Grace’s influence. Their don’t-give-a-fuck attitudes have rubbed off on me, but the need to please those around me and to be liked by my peers is so ingrained I’m not sure it’ll ever fully dissipate. And it’s why my unsuccessful job search stings so much – no one has liked me enough to hire me.
It’s also why Dev’s comment about being unwanted struck me so hard. Because I know what it’s like to not be wanted. From jobs to Jeremy to being the fragile-jointed younger sister who couldn’t do anything without getting hurt. I know what it’s like to be shoved to the side and what it’s like to feel pushed out.
Dev’s expression softens as he crouches in front of me, hands resting on the outsides of my ankles. ‘Mark doesn’t hate you,’ he murmurs. ‘I promise.’
I swallow hard, wishing I didn’t care so much. ‘But he doesn’t want me around. And he doesn’t want me around you.’
The way the corners of Dev’s lips pull up in a knowing smile has my heart beating harder and a frown tugging on my own mouth.
‘I think you know exactly what that’s about.’
I stop breathing and watch him. He tenderly brushes his thumbs across the skin of my ankles just above my socks, and the way his brown eyes have melted has my insides doing the same.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I lie, though my voice breaks, betraying my words.
Of course, Dev still humours me. ‘He’s afraid I’ll throw the agreement you and I have out the window. He thinks I’ll make a move on you.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ I say, going for resolute, but it comes out as more of a whisper. ‘He has nothing to worry about.’
‘He thinks he does. And I’m not sure he’s wrong.’
My heart has found its way into my throat. ‘Dev . . .’
I’m not sure if the universe is trying to help me or conspire against me, but a knock on the door has me jumping, my ankles jerking out of his grasp.
‘The engineers are ready to talk,’ a deep voice calls from the other side. ‘Can you be down in five?’
Dev scowls, and the lines of his throat work as he swallows. ‘Yeah,’ he calls back, sounding a little pained. ‘I’ll be there.’ A beat passes before his dark eyes swing back to me, some of their previous openness gone. ‘Guess I have to go face the Judases.’
I’m torn over how to respond. I could jump back into our previous topic, clear it all up now. But I’m afraid of what I’ll let slip if the conversation goes back. I’m afraid I might tell him that Mark’s fears are well founded.
So I weakly joke, ‘Remember, no destruction of property.’
And there it is, that all-consuming grin he’s known for. All bright white teeth and a hint of his usual mischievousness in his eye. ‘I promise nothing.’
He rocks back on his heels and plants his hands on his knees before he pushes himself up, once again towering over me. I glance away, knowing I need to get back to the garage and all the stuff I left behind. But before I can move, Dev presses his fingertips beneath my chin and tilts my head up.
‘Thank you,’ he says, his eyes holding mine. ‘Seriously. I needed this. I needed you.’
My throat is so tight I’m rendered speechless. He makes these comments so lightly, tossing them out like he utters them all the time, but every one hits me with the impact of a sucker punch. Doesn’t he understand that he can’t talk like that? He can’t make me feel like I’m firmly ensconced in the centre of his world when I’m supposed to stay in the periphery.
‘I’ll always be here for you,’ I finally say. Because I’m no better. I may have gone too far, but I won’t lie to him. And it seems as though he’s decided the same.
He cups my cheek for a split second before his touch falls away, his smile so sweet and so personal that it only reinforces his statement.
We both know what we want. What we need. The only question is whether we’re reckless enough to go after it.