Chapter Nineteen #2
They all clinked glasses, the sound bright in the cool evening air. Aria let the moment settle, the wine warming her from the inside.
“I just want tomorrow to go well for him. He’s been building toward this. The car’s finally there, he’s sharp… I don’t want to be a distraction.”
“You’re not a distraction,” Mia said firmly. “You’re motivation. He qualified P4. Imagine what he’ll do with you waiting at the end of the race.”
Dana grinned. “And if he wins, you get to be the one he runs to in parc fermé. Iconic. I’m already seeing the photos.”
Aria rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re both ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously right,” Dana shot back.
They talked for another hour—racing gossip, Mia’s stories about surviving a full season as the reigning World Champion’s girlfriend, Dana’s ongoing complaints about the new batch of rookies who thought “stretch before quali” was optional.
But underneath it all, Aria felt the steady pull back toward Jax.
Toward the hotel. Toward the quiet way he’d text her updates from the sim lounge, just to let her know he was thinking of her.
When she finally said goodnight and stepped into the lift, her phone buzzed.
Jax: Lucas is still sulking about the 0.2. Etienne’s plotting a rematch at 2 a.m. You having fun?
She smiled, thumbs flying.
Aria: Yes. But I miss you. Heading back now.
His reply was almost instant.
Jax: Bed’s warm. I’m naked. Hurry.
She pressed the lobby button harder than necessary, heart kicking up in that familiar, giddy way.
Tomorrow he’d race. Tomorrow the world would watch.
But tonight—tonight was just them.
And it felt more real than anything she’d ever had before.
◆◆◆
Jax
Race day.
The grid thrummed with life—engines barking sharply, the crowd roaring like a living thing, that familiar pre-race tension crackling through the air like electricity. P4 on the grid. Lucas ahead in P2. The Albert Park sun beat down, turning the asphalt into a shimmering ribbon.
Jax sat in the cockpit, heart steady, hands loose on the wheel. This was what he lived for. The car felt planted beneath him, balanced in a way it hadn’t been all last season. He could already taste the potential.
The lights went out.
He got a clean start, slotting neatly into P4 through the chaos of Turn 1.
The car responded beautifully—no twitch, no hesitation.
By lap 5 he was pressuring the car ahead, using the improved front-end handling to carry more speed through the fast right-hander at Turn 5.
Lap by lap he continued to close resulting in a clean move on the McLaren through the long chicane.
By lap 15 he was running P3, the rear glued to the track, tires still in their prime.
He could see Lucas up ahead, pulling away like he was on rails.
For a moment, everything felt perfect. The car was an extension of his body, the crowd a distant roar, the strategy calls crisp in his ear. This was the version of racing he’d been chasing all last season.
Then the radio crackled.
“Lucas has crashed. Turn 8. Rear suspension failure. Spun into the barriers.”
Jax’s stomach clenched tight. “Is he okay?”
“Out of the car. He waved to the marshals. Medical car’s with him now. Safety car deployed.”
He exhaled sharply, forcing the worry down. Lucas was tough. He’d be fine. But the championship picture had just shifted in an instant.
The safety car bunched the field. On the restart, Jax pushed hard—defending against the McLaren behind while trying to close the gap to the Ferrari in front.
The car stayed composed through the high-speed sections, the new setup giving him confidence to attack the curbs.
Lap after lap he hunted, the crowd roaring louder with every overtake attempt.
He crossed the line P2, the chequered flag waving under a bright Melbourne sky.
Podium champagne tasted like relief mixed with adrenaline. He sprayed it wide, grinning for the cameras as the Albert Park crowd roared his name. For a few minutes it felt like a proper celebration.
But the moment he stepped off the podium, the weight settled back in.
Back in the team room the mood was muted. No wild cheers, no back-slapping. Engineers spoke in low voices over data screens; Marcus paced with his phone pressed to his ear. Jax stripped out of his race suit in silence, the fabric sticking to sweat-slick skin.
He waited until Marcus finished the call.
“What’s the word on Lucas?”
Marcus turned, face grim. “He got out under his own power—looked innocuous on the replays. But he was complaining about his shoulder in the medical car. The old Barcelona injury. They’ve taken him straight to hospital for scans.
The docs are worried it might need another reconstruction.
Recovery timeline isn’t overnight. He’s looking at missing at least half the season, minimum. ”
The words landed like a heavy weight on Jax’s chest. Lucas—two-time champion, the relentless benchmark who had pushed him harder than anyone—was sidelined.
The Constructors’ battle had just turned brutal.
And with Lucas out, the entire development direction, the points haul, the pressure… it all shifted.
Jax stared at the floor for a long moment, letting it sink in. He’d wanted number one status. He’d wanted the team to lean on him. But not like this. Not because his teammate and friend had been taken out by a failure that could have happened to any of them.
Marcus clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re the lead driver now. We’re fast-tracking a reserve, but the car’s built around you. The points, the strategy calls, the development direction—it’s yours to lead. The pressure’s on, but you’ve got this.”
Jax nodded slowly, the reality settling deeper. This was what he’d been fighting for all winter. The chance to prove himself without anyone else carrying the load. Yet the victory felt hollow knowing it came at Lucas’s expense.
Aria found him later in the quiet back room, eyes soft with worry. She stepped close without hesitation.
“You okay?” she asked gently.
He managed a half-smile. “Yeah. Just… processing. Lucas is tough—he’ll come back swinging. But the team… it’s a proper blow. And now everything’s riding on me.”
She reached for his hand, fingers threading through his. “You can do this. You were unreal out there today—P2 from P4, fighting for every single position. That wasn’t luck. That was you. The car’s finally listening, the team’s behind you. You’ve got the talent. You always have.”
He looked at her—really looked. Something in his chest eased, just a fraction. The warmth in her voice, the steady way she held his gaze… it cut through the noise in his head.
“You think?”
“I know.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “I’ll be here to steady you when I can.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them—quiet, edged with old doubt. “Min-Jae might need you more.”
She stilled. Then she shook her head, voice soft but firm. “That can wait. You were there for me when I needed it. Least I can do is be here when you’re carrying the weight.”
She stepped closer, rose on her toes, and pressed a slow kiss to his mouth—gentle, steady, like a promise. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright. “You’ve got this. And I’ve got you.”
He exhaled—long and shaky—and pulled her against his chest, arms wrapping tight around her. He wasn’t sure what this was between them anymore. But right now, with her warmth pressed against him, it was enough.
◆◆◆
Aria
The team motorhome felt quieter than usual after the race—muted voices, soft footsteps, the faint smell of champagne and adrenaline still hanging in the air.
Jax had already changed out of his race suit into a team polo and jeans.
Aria stayed close in the quiet back room, her hand wrapped around his, thumb brushing slow circles over his knuckles.
She could feel the unspoken weight between them, humming like static just beneath the surface.
Jax let out a long breath and squeezed her hand. “I should go check in with Marcus quickly about the reserve driver situation. Won’t be long.”
Aria nodded, offering a small smile. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Once he stepped out, she pulled out her phone. Messages from Mia waited.
Mia: Hey. Lucas is at the hospital now for shoulder scans. He’s cracking jokes with the nurses but I know he’s scared. How’s Jax holding up?
Aria typed back quickly, keeping her tone steady and warm.
Aria: He’s processing everything quietly. The team’s leaning on him hard now, but he’s strong — he’ll step up. How are you doing, love? This must be terrifying for you. I’m here if you need to talk or vent or just sit in silence. Whatever you need.
Mia: It is. I’m trying so hard not to fall apart in front of him. He hates when I worry, but I can’t help it. He’s been through this before and it nearly broke him last time. You and Jax looked tight after the race though… I’m really glad you’re there for him.
Aria: I’m glad I’m here too. But right now I’m more worried about you. Lucas is tough, but you’re the one holding everything together for him. If you need me to come over later or bring you anything, just say the word. You don’t have to do this alone.
Mia: Thank you. That means more than you know. I’ll keep you updated on the scans. Love you.
Aria: Love you too. Hug him for me when you can. And take care of yourself, okay?
She pocketed the phone, heart aching a little for her friend. Watching someone you love get hurt from the sidelines was its own kind of hell.
With Jax still gone, her thoughts drifted back to him.
She cared about him — deeply. More than she’d let herself admit for a long time.
The way he’d looked at her when she arrived in Melbourne, the visible relief on his face when she confirmed she’d be there…
it had felt real. Like he needed her, not just the image.
Yet the Min-Jae messages still sat unread on her phone. Three polite, careful texts since Seoul. She hadn’t replied. Hadn’t even felt the old pull. That chapter was closed, and the clarity of it both terrified and freed her.
She wondered how she could even begin to raise any of this with Jax. Was there a chance this had become something more for him too? Or was she reading too much into every glance and touch?
A few minutes later she stood and walked down the corridor to find him. As she approached the doorway, Marcus’s voice carried out — low and pragmatic.
“…sponsors are loving this new image. Steady, committed, no drama. It’s exactly what they wanted to see after last season.”
Jax’s reply came tired but with a hint of his usual dry humour. “Yeah, the sponsors have nothing to worry about. I’m all about the steady image now. No scandals here. Jax the serious guy, right? I’ve got this.”
Aria stopped just out of sight, chest tightening. The steady image. The girlfriend thing helps. Keeps everything clean.
She’d seen the relief on his face when she arrived.
She’d felt the way he pulled her close. But maybe she’d been overthinking it.
Maybe that relief wasn’t about her — it was about having the perfect plus-one while he stepped into the number one role.
The optics were more important than ever now.
A stable, high-profile relationship would keep the sponsors happy while the team leaned on him to carry the season.
She didn’t know what to think about how he really felt.
But she knew she wasn’t ready to lay her own feelings bare. Not yet. She needed to know more — needed to be sure — before she risked revealing how much she had already fallen.
When Jax stepped back into the room a moment later, she was waiting with a soft smile. She didn’t mention what she’d overheard.
Instead she leaned her head against his shoulder, breathing him in — faint traces of sweat and champagne mixed with the cedar of his cologne. His arm tightened around her waist, instinctive and protective.
She closed her eyes.
She didn’t know what this was between them yet. She didn’t want to rush to name it and risk shattering the fragile thing that had started to grow. But she knew one thing with absolute certainty: she wasn’t going anywhere. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until she was ready to walk away.
And right now, she wasn’t ready.
She tilted her head up and pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered against his skin. “Okay?”
He exhaled — long and shaky — and rested his forehead against hers. “Okay,” he murmured.
And for the first time in a long time, the silence between them felt like peace instead of distance.