29. Danger
Danger
Lucy
The news of Elio’s past shook me like a hurricane.
I tried to hide it, knowing it took a lot of courage for him to share that part of himself with me.
But the thought of a little Elio fighting for his life is unbearable.
He’s so happy, so radiant and full of energy, it’s impossible to imagine him otherwise.
“Are you okay?” he asks, waving a hand in front of me. We’re both seated at a table in the hospitality suite’s canteen. His parents will be here any minute to watch the qualifying session for tomorrow’s race.
“Yeah. Sorry.” I shake my hea d, turning to glimpse the rain that’s pouring outside, the glistening raindrops rolling down the windows. “Is the race canceled if it rains?”
“Nope. It just gets more fun.” He grins.
I bite my cheek, studying him. His risk-prone personality and thirst for victory make more sense now, but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous.
“You have to be careful out there, Elio,” I say, my voice softer than I intended. I don’t want to sound like I’m nagging, but the thought of him whizzing down the rain-soaked track is making me nauseous.
“You’re cute when you worry about me,” he says, taking my hand. The tingles that travel up my arm soothe my nerves. Then, he glances over my shoulder. “Ah, eccoli .”
I follow his gaze to the door, where his parents just entered. I remember them from the first time I spotted them in Italy, two weeks ago.
Elio jogs up to them and hugs them both before exchanging a few words in Italian. Then he guides them toward me.
I stand up, smoothing my dress and offering them a smile.
Elio turns to his parents. “Mom, Dad, this is Lucy. Lucy, meet Katherine and Lorenzo, my parents.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” his mom says, shaking my hand vigorously. “We never get to meet any of Elio’s, um, friends .”
I swallow to wet my dry throat. “Thank you. It’s great to meet you too.”
“Indeed,” Lorenzo says with a warm smile before glancing at Elio. “Have you seen the conditions out there, son? Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”
Elio glances at his watch. “I have about ten minutes, and as for the rain, don’t worry about it.”
His mom’s face falls. “Oh, I regret coming here. If I’d known it was going to rain . . .” She shudders.
“Mom, I’ll be fine,” Elio groans, clearly refraining from rolling his eyes.
I give him a pointed look, wishing he’d extend his mother some grace. I can understand where she’s coming from. It’s not natural to watch your son drive three hundred kilometers an hour on a racetrack every weekend, especially on wet asphalt under the pouring rain.
“You have to drive carefully,” she insists, shaking her head. “I know you want to win tomorrow, but in these conditions, any mistake could be very dangerous. You’ve already survived so much, but that doesn’t mean you can afford to be reckless.”
“Kate,” Lorenzo cuts in, shooting her a warning look.
“It’s okay,” Elio says with a side glance toward me. “She knows.”
Lorenzo and Katherine don’t bother to hide their surprise. Their jaws drop, and Lorenzo blinks rapidly, as if he’s still trying to process Elio’s words. “Really?”
I bite my lip and nod, suddenly feeling like an intruder in their most intimate family secret. “Yes, Elio told me.”
“Wow, okay,” Katherine says, her eyes roving between the two of us. “Well, my point is, you can’t go crazy out there.”
“Mom,” he says, taking her hand. “We have wet tires and an entire crew who’ve developed a supercar that is drivable at high speeds in these conditions. Don’t worry.”
She sighs. “Of course I worry. I’m your mother.”
He chuckles and squeezes her hand. “I gotta go to the meeting, and then it’s quali. I’ll see you guys afterward. Might be best if you stay here, Bella ?” he suggests to me, standing up. “Matteo will be here soon too.”
“Okay.” I nod, trying to ignore the stir in my belly from the fact he called me “ Bella ” in front of his folks.
Our eyes lock for a second, and I’m pretty sure we’re both wondering if it would be appropriate to kiss right now. I want to go for it—his mom’s worry only fueled my own fear—but we did say we’d keep this quiet.
The corners of his lips turn into a smile, and I return it before waving at him.
When I turn back to Katherine and Lorenzo, the realization that Elio just left me alone with his parents finally hits me. What are we supposed to talk about? Do they even want me here?
“So, are you an F1 fan, Lucy?” Lorenzo asks, sitting down with a warm smile.
Okay. I can do this.
“Yeah, I guess I am now.” I smile back. “I didn’t really know anything about the sport two weeks ago, but it grew on me.”
“It has a way of doing that,” he says with a chuckle. “Grueling sport but nonetheless satisfying.”
Katherine plucks at the hem of her blouse, her forehead creased. “Well, the rain might change that.”
“Don’t worry, Kate. You know fretting about it won’t change the outcome. The boy is a born racer. Let him do what he does best.”
She lets out a sigh. “I need a drink.”
When she hustles away, Lorenzo leans over the table. “She worries too much,” he says. “But it’ll be fine. It always is. It has to be.”
I swallow hard, but my throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper, and suddenly, I wish I’d gone with Katherine for that drink.
We wait patiently until the start of quali, and I take some pictures of the hospitality suites in the meantime.
Finally, the time comes for the first qualifying session, where the five slowest drivers will be eliminated.
The track is slick with rain, and a few drivers slide on the corners.
Two of them even crash, which doesn’t help with my nerves.
Thankfully, Elio wins the fastest lap, and everyone in the hospitality suite erupts into cheers.
We’re all watching on the large-screen TV, and I’m watching the action closely, taking some cliff notes for the feature.
The second session kicks off, and Elio comes in third after slipping a bit on the first corner.
Finally, it’s the last session, with the ten remaining drivers hoping to score the best grid position for tomorrow.
Elio accelerates first on the slippery tracks.
His red car zooms in front of us, and a split second later, it’s out of sight.
We watch on the TV, everyo ne quiet, listening to the commentators’ voices.
Apparently, Elio is driving a super-fast lap with few mistakes.
“That’s my boy,” Lorenzo bellows, fist in the air.
“ Elio Spinelli is setting the bar high today at the Monaco Grand Prix ,” one of the commentators says. “ What a brilliant performance for the Rossi Motorsports driver .”
“ Yes, it’s going to be tough to beat that time—oh! And he slips on the wet track. ” The commentator's voice breaks on his last words, and everything inside me freezes.
My breath catches in my throat, the world around me a blur. Elio dips a wheel into the gravel, and time slows. I can’t even blink. My hand reaches instinctively for my chest, which tightens painfully as the car slides across the track—too far, too far. I can’t process it.
The car flips twice before landing on the barriers. My heart lurches, slamming into my ribs. I barely even hear the gasp that escapes the others, because all I can hear is the frantic pounding of my own pulse in my ears.
No. No, no, no.
The sound of the crash echoes in my head long after the room has gone silent. It’s like the whole world has paused, holding its breath with me.
“No!” Katherine cries out, the only sound in the room as silence permeates.
No one else dares to speak. All eyes are glued to the TV, waiting to see some movement from Elio, but he’s not moving. My breath comes faster, each inhale shorter, sharper, and I feel as though I’m about to suffocate. I wring my hands, trying to calm their trembling.
“Come on, son. Come on, son,” Lorenzo whispers like a mantra, his knee bouncing in my peripheral vision.
Debris is strewn across the track. He might have crashed alone, but it was intense. Smoke starts to billow from the engine, followed by lapping flames.
“ Spinelli’s car now catching fire, and the marshals are entering the track with extinguishers ,” the commentator continues. “ Still no movement from the Rossi driver ,” he adds, and his words hit like a punch to the gut.
The hospitality suite is still holding its collective breath, the weight of the moment dragging us all down.
Then, just when I’m on the verge of breaking, and the world starts to close in on me, I see his arm raise. It’s weak, but it’s there. The thumb comes up, signaling he’s alive.
My breath rushes back, and the tension that’s been holding me prisoner begins to loosen. But not completely. Not until I see him getting out of that car.
“ Looks like Spinelli is all right ,” the commentator exhales in relief, though I’m still hesitant to believe it. “ Just a reminder of how unforgiving this sport can be when it rains. Now, the RM team will work around the clock to get that car ready for tomorrow’s race .”
“Thank you, Lord,” Katherine prays quietly, her voice breaking as she casts her eyes upward. Lorenzo stands up and takes her in his arms. Meanwhile, I sit do wn, afraid my body is going to give out.
My hands are still shaking as I clutch the edge of the chair. The replay starts, and I instinctively close my eyes, squeezing them shut as the horrific images flash across the screen. I can’t look. I can’t bear it. But it’s no use, because the pictures are already etched in my brain forever.
Katherine is still shaken up, and I feel a stab of pity for her and Lorenzo.
This must be torture, watching their son get into that car and race, not knowing if he’ll make it out alive.
I’ve known Elio for only two weeks, but in a way, it feels like so much longer.
And the thought of him getting into his F1 car is becoming less and less appealing.
Elio