Cross the Line

CHAPTER 23

Willow

My body aches like I’ve been hit by a truck when I roll out of bed the next morning.

I barely drank last night, so I can’t blame this on a hangover, but I overdid it in other ways. I stood for too long, danced too hard and wore impractical shoes without thinking of the consequences. Now I’m paying the price.

The torn labrum in my left hip – the one the doctors have repaired three times already and refuse to fix again – catches within the joint as I take a tentative step toward the bathroom, and it threatens to give out on me. The pain is sharp and intense but blessedly fleeting, though when I try again, I know it will do the same thing.

I need to hydrate, pop an anti-inflammatory and do some gentle stretching ASAP. I’ve been slacking on taking care of my body, and it’s come to bite me in the ass.

Yet, if this is the consequence for last night, I’ll take it without complaint.

I fight back a smile when the memory of kissing Dev in that dim hallway surfaces. Sure, it wasn’t the most romantic setting, and, yeah, it was once again a heat-of-the-moment thing. But god. If my hip didn’t hurt so badly, I’d be kicking my feet like a giddy kid.

I promised Dev that I wouldn’t rush into a decision about where we go from here, but if he knocked on my door right now, I’d probably throw myself at him. And that means I need to avoid him until I’ve had the chance to weigh the pros and cons and come to a conclusion about what I want. What I really want – and what to make of the consequences that could come with it.

I text Grace and Chantal as I lie on my yoga mat, grimacing through the discomfort of the stretches and welcoming the distraction of my friends’ nearly incoherent messages as I update them on the Dev situation. Twenty minutes later, my body doesn’t feel much better, but my mind’s a little clearer. Both my best friends wholeheartedly encouraged me to follow my heart. Knowing I have their support makes this easier, although I’ve never been worried about them and their opinions.

But on my way down to breakfast, I run straight into one of my problems. Literally.

Mark steadies me, his strong hands gripping my shoulders. The collision is my fault – I was so distracted by forming my mental list of pros and cons that I didn’t see him stepping out of his room until it was too late – but maybe this is fate intervening, forcing me to face my anxiety head-on.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, his brow furrowed in genuine concern. Given that he’s a foot and a half taller than me, it’s warranted. He could have easily wiped me off the face of the earth.

‘I’m fine,’ I say, though stopping so quickly has made my pain flare up again.

‘You don’t look fine.’

Trust Mark to be blunt. As I gingerly move away from him, I consider lying again, but today’s pain is so acute, there’s no way it isn’t written all over my face. ‘My hip is giving me a little trouble,’ I explain. ‘No big deal, though. I promise.’

He frowns and takes a few steps back, putting at least ten feet between us. Then he lifts his hand and motions me forward. ‘Walk toward me. Let me see how it’s affecting your gait.’

I blink in surprise. He’s gone into full physical therapist mode in a heartbeat, watching me expectantly, waiting for me to comply with his orders. He’s a professional, and he’ll probably tattle to Dev if I try to brush off my pain again, so I do as I’m told and walk toward him. I can’t mask the slight limp.

His frown deepens as I approach, then he grasps my elbow to support me when I reach him. ‘You need to stay off that for a bit,’ he instructs. ‘I can work on you. See if we can get that hip sitting a little better in the joint.’

My jaw goes slack as I scrutinize him. ‘You’d do that for me?’

‘Of course,’ he says with a scoff. ‘You really think I’m that much of an asshole?’

‘No,’ I blurt. My face goes hot with embarrassment, but he’s seen right through me. I didn’t think he liked me enough to go out of his way to come to my aid. ‘I just – I didn’t think – you’re here for Dev, not anyone else.’

He rolls his eyes as he tightens his grip on my elbow, taking on more of my weight as he turns me toward the elevators. ‘I’m here for the people I care about, and you’re one of them.’ He gently nudges me into walking, watching each of my steps. ‘Come on. Let’s get some breakfast and then we’ll see if we can get your pain level down.’

I let him guide me, thankful to him for both the literal support and for being so open to helping me. ‘Thank you,’ I tell him quietly as he hits the button for the elevator.

He doesn’t look at me as he says, ‘I’ve got you, Wills. You should know that.’

I certainly do now.

Mark doesn’t let me go even as the elevator descends. Surprisingly, the silence isn’t the least bit awkward, but I do have to break it. ‘I don’t want Dev to know about this.’

I can feel Mark’s eyes on me, though I continue to focus on the steel doors straight ahead. It has nothing to do with hiding who I spend my time with from Dev, but because I don’t want him to know that I’m hurting. I don’t want him to take on that worry.

Blessedly, I don’t have to elaborate. Mark gets it. ‘I’ll send him down to the gym after breakfast,’ he answers. ‘He needs to sweat out all that alcohol from last night anyway.’

I snicker, finally peeking up at him. ‘You’re cruel. I like it.’

A hint of a smirk creeps up his face. ‘I have a feeling you won’t like it for long.’

——

An hour later, I’m lying on the massage table that Mark keeps set up in his room so he can work on Dev at any time. I have to respect his preparedness, but right now, I kind of hate him for it.

‘Holy fuck,’ I grit out.

This time, Mark’s smirk makes me wonder if he’s a sadist.

He’s perched next to me on the edge of the table with my knee hooked over one of his shoulders and his hands wrapped around my thigh over my compression shorts. We’re all up on each other, but there is nothing even remotely sexual about this. Honestly, he’s lucky I haven’t kicked him in the face yet.

‘Breathe out,’ he says calmly.

Obediently, I force a puff of air out of my mouth as he gives my leg a controlled tug.

The relief is immediate, like the ball part of my hip isn’t jammed into the socket any longer. The excruciating ‘massage’ he gave me first has even encouraged the usually tight muscles surrounding the joint to relax. I’m in heaven.

My head is spinning up in the clouds when Mark asks, ‘So. You and Dev, huh?’

Panic assaults me, dragging me back down to earth, before I stutter, ‘I – I don’t—’

‘Stop.’ He moves his hands a little lower on my thigh so he can pull it at a different angle. ‘I already know.’

I let out a heavier exhale as he yanks my leg again. This adjustment is almost better than the first. ‘Did he tell you?’

There’s no avoiding Mark’s questions; I’m truly at his mercy right now, so I might as well be honest.

He shakes his head. ‘He didn’t have to. I saw you kissing last night.’

My stomach plummets to the floor. Oh no. If he saw us, that means anyone could have. It means we’ve been careless and rash. We let our emotions lead us without thinking about repercussions. Though Dev asked me to think things through, we’ve pretty much already thrown caution to the wind, and now I could be facing down a nightmare.

‘Do you think anyone else saw?’ I ask, dread creeping into my stomach.

‘No.’ His answer is firm. ‘But even if they did, every person there last night was from Argonaut, and we’ve all signed NDAs. Nothing is getting out.’

The fear subsides a little, though not completely. If Dev and I keep acting like horny teenagers, there’s no way this will stay under wraps, whatever this is or might turn into. ‘Okay,’ I respond weakly. What else is there to say? He already knows my secret.

Mark continues to work on my hip in silence, offering me more relief than I’ve felt in months. It isn’t until he asks me to turn over onto my stomach so he can work on my hamstring that our conversation resumes.

‘You need to tell your brother before he finds out from someone else.’

My cheek rests on my folded arms, so my words are muffled when I say, ‘There’s nothing to tell him yet.’

All Dev and I have done is sneak kisses here and there. My brother, the ladies’ man he claims to be, wouldn’t have a leg to stand on in the argument that a couple of kisses equates to something serious. I haven’t agreed to date Dev. We’re not in a relationship. And we haven’t done anything more than divulge that we have feelings for each other. It could all be written off so easily.

And there’s still a tiny chance that I might do just that.

‘What’s going on with me and Dev . . .’ I trail off, my heart cracking a little at the words on the tip of my tongue. ‘I don’t even know if it’s going to go anywhere. I don’t know if it can.’

Regardless of the Oakley issue, I have to think about my professional reputation. I don’t want to be branded with misogynistic labels and face the rumours that I slept my way into a job.

Regardless of the truth, juicy stories sell, and one like that could ruin my career before it’s even started. As much as I want to, I can’t single-handedly change how women are viewed and treated, and I can’t follow my heart to a place that would lead to the destruction of what I’ve worked so hard for.

Yet there’s a part of me that believes that Dev is worth the risk.

‘It can go somewhere.’ Mark once again speaks in definitives. ‘And if you want it to, it will. That boy’s head over heels for you, Willow.’

‘I know,’ I whisper, wishing I could be so confident in my possible future with Dev. ‘I feel the same way about him.’

It’s strange confessing this to one of my brother’s best friends – one of Dev’s best friends. Mark and I have never been close. We’ve always skirted around each other, and this is by far the most direct conversation we’ve ever had. There’s no rule that says I have to share any of this, but it feels like the right choice to trust him.

‘I’m going to be completely honest,’ Mark goes on, digging his thumbs into the muscle behind my knee. ‘I didn’t like the idea of Dev hiring you – at all. You distracted him. Made him take his eye off the prize.’ His thumbs slide higher, though he’s definitely taking it easy on me. His words are harsh enough. ‘Did you know he crashed in Austin last year because he was thinking about you?’

I inhale sharply, my head snapping up so I can gauge Mark’s expression. ‘No. There’s no way. He said he crashed because he locked up and—’

‘It was because of you.’ Mark dips his chin and focuses on the work he’s doing to my leg. ‘He told me himself.’

I stare at him in disbelief for a few more seconds, then drop my forehead to my arms in shame. ‘Oh my god,’ I mumble. ‘You were right not to want me around.’ Maybe I’m still at risk of being a distraction. Of ruining everything for him. ‘Maybe I should cut this off. I was so worried about my own career that I didn’t even think about his. I don’t – I don’t want to be the reason he loses focus, I can’t—’

‘You’re not. Not any more.’ His touch disappears from my thigh, then he’s pushing on my shoulder, signalling for me to flop onto my back. ‘Now, if you walk away, I’m afraid he’ll fall to pieces.’

I take Mark in, torn between believing his first impression or his current one. ‘Do you really believe that?’

‘Dev has been trying to hide his feelings about you because he knows I disapprove. Or, well, I used to. Yesterday showed me . . .’ He takes a breath and rests his hand on my bent knee. ‘Willow, you make him want to be better. Do better. Before you came back into the picture, he was close to giving up. He’d never admit it, but he’d lost that spark. He could talk all he wanted about getting away from Argonaut and working toward being a champion, but he wasn’t doing anything about it. You changed that.’

I’m speechless. If those words had come from anyone else, I might not believe them. I might think they were humouring me. But Mark isn’t the type to lie or sugar-coat. If he says it, he means it. And he truly believes Dev is better off with me around.

So I might as well ask the question that all of this really comes down to. ‘Do you think I should give us a chance? Me and him?’

‘I do.’

He gives my knee the lightest squeeze. It’s nearly imperceptible, but it pulls some of the crushing weight of this decision off my shoulders.

‘Okay,’ I exhale. ‘As long as you approve. You’re the one I was the most afraid of pissing off.’

Mark laughs as he straightens my leg again and starts to work on the outside of my thigh. ‘More than Oakley? Damn, am I really that scary?’

I shoot him a dry look and tick off my reasoning on my fingers. ‘You are a giant. You always look angry. For years, I’ve been convinced you hate me. And you’re currently digging into my IT band, meaning I am in unimaginable pain. So, uh, yeah. You are.’

‘My bad.’ With a sly glance, he presses harder.

I let out a little squeak, but the pressure gives me sudden relief. It’s amazing and awful. ‘God, you’re such a dick.’

He shakes his head, fighting a grin and losing. ‘There she is. The menace I remember.’

I laugh. ‘You’re probably going to regret telling me to go after Dev. That means you’re stuck with me too.’

‘How terrible,’ he deadpans.

Before this conversation, I might have believed he meant that. But as it turns out, Mark’s not my enemy. If anything, he’s the best wingman in the world.

I let him torture me for another ten minutes before I tap out and allow him to help me sit up slowly. But before I can hop down from the massage table, he clamps a hand down on my shoulder and looks me hard in the eyes.

‘Talk to your brother,’ he insists. ‘After the Jeremy fiasco, I don’t know how open he’ll be. He knows Dev would never hurt you on purpose, but he might need time to work through his feelings about it all.’

I take a deep breath and blow it out. ‘I’ll talk to him,’ I promise. ‘But it’s got to be face to face.’

Mark nods and lifts his hand from my shoulder, offering to help me climb down from the table. Once I’m standing, I give his fingers a tight squeeze.

‘Thank you, Mark,’ I say, glad to have this newfound camaraderie. ‘For both therapy sessions. You should charge me double.’

That drags the loudest laugh from him I’ve ever heard. It’s still relatively quiet in the grand scheme of things, but I’ll take it.

‘This one’s on the house,’ he teases. ‘But next time, you’re paying full price.’

——

On Monday afternoon, I sit with Chava on the plane to Belgium, headed to the last race before F1’s summer break – and the last race I’ll be joining the team on the road for. The flight is less than two hours, but it’s still too much time to be stuck sitting next to Dev.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, I wander around Spa and Francorchamps, snapping photos to post to both my own social media and Dev’s.

On Thursday, I watch from the back of the crowd as Dev charms his way through interviews and meet and greets, then slip away before he can seek me out.

On Friday and Saturday, I hide behind Mark and Chava in the garage, doing my best to keep my interactions with Dev to a minimum. He constantly tries to catch my eye, but he seems to know better than to engage me.

Staying away from him has been torture, but I need the space so I can determine how I want us to move forward from here. My head goes fuzzy when he’s too close, and all reasonable thoughts disappear when the familiar warmth of his cologne hits me. God forbid he brush my hand or sweep my curls over my shoulder; I’m an immediate goner. Nothing but a pile of goo on the floor.

I’d be disgusted with myself if I didn’t know that my feelings were reciprocated. Honestly, I might be the slightly less obsessed party here – though not by much.

I want to be with him. That much I’ve already settled. But it’s how and when we make that happen that I’m working on. It would probably be best if we held off until my contract with him and Argonaut is up at the end of August. I don’t think we could go public until a few months after that, or at least until I landed a job on my own merit.

But that feels like an excruciatingly long timeline. Though if it’s the safest way for us to be together, then maybe it’s how things have to be. Still, it’s going to be torturous to hold out.

I’m hoping my resolve will stick around as I take the stairs up to Dev’s driver room. We have a couple of hours before the race, and I need to snap a few photos of him getting ready, since those always perform well. People really like seeing him in his tight fireproofs for some reason . . .

Chava and Mark disappeared while I was still sipping my latte, so they should be up there already. At least they can act as an intermediary. It’s worked okay so far, especially after my chat with Mark. He wants me to be sure of my decision, so if he can help, he will. Even if it means keeping Dev and me apart for the time being.

But the boys are nowhere to be found when I step into Dev’s room and shut the door behind me. He and I are completely alone – and he’s half naked.

‘Oh,’ I hear myself say, cringing when I do. But that doesn’t stop me from staring at him in those incredibly tight pants that leave nothing to the imagination. ‘Sorry, I can—’

‘Good, you’re here.’ He snags the fireproof shirt hanging up on the rail he’s standing next to. ‘You want to get some photos? It looks like people are digging my helmet for this weekend.’

I couldn’t care less about his new helmet design and how much people like it when I’m staring at his rippling back muscles.

‘Uh-huh.’ God, I need to snap out of it. I clear my throat as he finally tugs his shirt on. ‘Where are Chava and Mark?’

When Dev’s head pops out of his shirt, his hair is sticking up in every direction. ‘Mark had to grab something and Chava had a call to make.’ He sweeps his hair back. ‘They should be back in a little while.’ He turns to inspect me, a brow raised in challenge. ‘You done avoiding me?’

I wasn’t trying to be sly, but it warms me that he knows exactly what I was doing. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I say lightly, making sure he can see my smile.

He chuckles as he reaches for his race suit next. ‘I’d be offended if I hadn’t told you to take time to figure things out.’

‘Yeah, you kinda brought this upon yourself.’

‘I can pretend you’re not here if that makes you feel better.’

I can’t help but laugh. ‘That’s okay. I think we can exist in the same space.’

The glance he shoots me says that he doubts that, but he nods to the shelving unit across the room. ‘Go ahead and get some more shots of my helmet.’

I’m grateful he’s not about to convince me to have a chat about what decision I’ve come to. Not that he’d want to have such a deep conversation right before the race, but it’s a relief regardless.

I make my way over to where his helmet and the backup sit, though a small pastel-orange box on the shelf beside them steals my attention. I pick up the Stella Margaux’s box and turn to him with a grin. ‘Are macarons your new pre-race snack?’

He keeps his back to me as he steps into his race suit and pulls it up. ‘No, those are for you,’ he says.

I blink, confused. ‘For . . . me?’

‘Yeah, I know how much you like them.’

My mind whirls, trying to remember where the closest Stella Margaux’s is – and it’s not anywhere nearby. ‘I’m pretty sure the closest location you could have gotten these was Paris.’

‘Yeah.’ With his back still turned, he slips his arms into the sleeves of the suit. ‘Had them flown in this morning.’

He says it so casually. Like it took nothing to pull that off, even though I know it was a lot more than that.

‘What if you hadn’t seen me today?’ I ask, my throat getting tight. ‘What if I was still avoiding you?’

He shrugs, and I hear the sound of the suit zipper pulling up. ‘I would have had Chava bring them to you. I just thought you might need a treat.’

There’s a pinching tightness in my chest, one that only happens when he’s around, my heart being squeezed by all the feelings I have for him. I was right to keep my distance over the past few days, because this man . . . this man makes me reckless. He makes me forget all my concerns.

Makes me forget that there’s a world outside the two of us.

‘Dev.’

He finally turns to look at me.

My breathing goes shallow. The macaron box drops back to the shelf. And then I’m moving.

I’m in front of him before my mind can catch up to my body. My hands find his jaw, cupping it, my thumbs tracing the hollows of his cheeks. I pull his face down to mine, ignoring the surprise in his eyes.

And then I kiss the hell out of him.

Despite his shock, he responds almost instantly, looping his arms around my waist and lifting me. I wrap my legs around him, my skirt hiking up to my hips, and hold on for dear life. A shelf digs into my back as he pushes me against it, but I barely register any sensation other than the press of his lips against mine.

I tilt my head to deepen the kiss, wanting more of him. All of him. I’ve made up my mind.

The logistics can get fucked. We’ll figure it out when we have to.

There’s nothing controlled or gentle about this kiss. There’s no more taking it slow. It’s urgent and eager and hungry, an explosion of emotions that have been bottled up for days and weeks and months. Maybe even years. It’s desperate. It’s a plea for so much more.

It’s exactly what I want.

‘You done thinking about things?’ he pants when we break apart to catch our breath. ‘Made up your mind?’

I nod, nearly knocking myself out on the shelf behind me, but I don’t care. Dev’s ready to hand his heart over to me, and I’m ready to take it from him.

‘If you want this – if you want me,’ he says, ‘I’ll fight for it. I’ll fight for us.’

‘Yes,’ I gasp, sinking my fingers into his hair. ‘I want to make this work.’

The bliss that floods his expression makes my heart thump against my ribcage. I slant my head to kiss him again, to seal this promise we’ve made. But before I can, the door swings open.

Rearing back, I actually hit my head this time, wincing when Mark and Chava come into view. The two stare at us for a beat before Chava swears in Spanish, then jams his hand into the pocket of his uniform shorts and pulls out his wallet.

‘Seriously?’ he grumbles, slapping a hundred-euro note into Mark’s outstretched palm. ‘I thought they’d at least wait until after the race.’

I gape at them. They bet on Dev and me? ‘Are you guys for real?’

Dev watches them, obviously biting back a grin. ‘Not cool,’ he says, clearly thinking otherwise but trying his best to back me up.

I push against his chest until he sets me on the ground. Shoving down the hem of my pencil skirt, I glare at the boys at the door. ‘I can’t believe you.’

Mark puts his hands up in surrender, but the money he’s holding doesn’t help his case. ‘Hey, at least you got what you wanted, Wills. Can’t be too mad.’

I suck in a breath, ready to retort, but nothing comes to me. Because he’s right. I did get what I wanted.

As if to remind me of that, Dev brushes his knuckles against my jaw, featherlight. Heat blooms up my neck, and I soften again as I look at him. ‘Let me go win another race,’ he says quietly, the words meant just for me. ‘Then we can talk. Okay?’

I swallow hard, ignoring the kissy noises Chava makes in the background. ‘Okay,’ I murmur. ‘I’ll be waiting.’