Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
TESSA
We’d have a better chance not getting caught in a compromising position if we spent time at Rome’s house instead of mine, but the last three nights, he’s shown up on my doorstep, hours after leaving work for the day, with desperate kisses and rushed hands.
Instead of asking him what’s wrong, I give in to the pleading in his eyes and drift off to sleep with him running his fingers up and down my spine, only to meet up with him again the next morning at work.
The media is breathing down our necks. Not only are they curious to see if I’m in good health because of the last race, questioning Rome every other second, but this is also one of the first races of the season that my dad is present for.
Gia grabs onto my arm and pulls my attention to the paddock.
A beefy man has a microphone pointed in Rome’s direction, and I’m not sure what he’s asked, but if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under right now.
Rome’s lips pull back into a snarl, and the reporter quickly moves on to the next driver, who just so happens to be Beau.
“What is with him?” Gia asks. “Is he testy or is it just me?”
Rome stomps toward the private driver sectors, which thankfully are more than just a tented area like in some of the other races.
“I’m going to go figure it out. I’ll be back.”
I dart behind a few race trailers and head in the same direction as Rome. Once inside, I hurry past the door with Noah's name on it and slip inside the one next to it with Rome’s name.
He spins around angrily, until he sees it’s me.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Are you okay?”
His light eyes, usually soft for me, are hardened and icy. “I’m fine.”
I take a step toward him. “You don’t seem fine.”
The muscles along his jaw tighten, and he looks away. A heavy sigh leaves his mouth.
I’ve never seen him like this, and not only am I worried because he’s about to race, but I’m worried because there’s clearly something wrong.
I move right in front of him, and he peers down at me with the same worry line in between his eyebrows. “Are you nervous?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
I purse my lips. “You’re tense.” I bounce my eyes back and forth between his and give him a flirty smile. “I can help.”
My eager hands move to his race suit bundled around his waist. I start to push it down, but Rome’s fingers wrap around my wrists.
“No,” he snips. “Not here.”
I jerk away. “What?”
His jaw tightens again, and he won’t look me in the eye.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask. “You’re not acting like yourself.”
He drags a hand down his face and scoffs. “I just need to be alone.”
Ouch.
The rejection cuts deep, and I instinctively step backward. Confusion fills my head with all sorts of questions, but I bite the inside of my cheek to keep them on the inside.
This isn’t the time.
We aren’t supposed to do this here, and I should have known better.
“Okay.” I do my best to keep my voice steady and turn around.
“Tess…wait,” he pleads.
My throat tightens with unshed tears and vulnerability. I clear my throat and open the door. “I’ll see you out there.”
“Tessa.”
“I’m fine,” I insist. “Clear your head and find your center. I’ll see you out there.”
I tell myself to do the same, but the entire walk through the paddock, over to the pit wall, is a blur. I have never had a hard time finding my own center.
But as I slip my headset on and stare across the paddock, I realize something that's terrifying. Somehow, over the last few months, Rome has become my center.
I can’t help but feel lost without his icy eyes pointed in my direction during the national anthem. I opt out of searching for him when the drivers climb into their cars so I can save myself from even more rejection and confusion.
It’s time to focus.
I smile at Gia when she hands me a Diet Coke in a can, unopened. I pop the top, take a quick sip, and lower the mic to my lips.
“Radio check.” I push away my nerves. “Can you hear me?”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I exhale. “Rome, can you hear me?”
“Yes, and I know you can hear me.” His voice is strained. “I’m sorry. I know you–”
“You don’t have to explain,” I interrupt him.
His scoff echoes inside my ears. “Just give me until after this race, and I will be able to explain. Okay?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my dad stepping up onto the pit wall beside me. “Front-row seat?” I ask him, faking a smile.
“Give your dad the headset,” Rome says. “Quick.”
I don’t argue. I slip the headset off and give it to my dad, who takes it with one eyebrow raised.
“Rome?” He’s cautiously on guard.
I nibble on the end of my thumbnail and look down the pit wall. Everyone is in their rightful place with the race starting in less than a minute. Things are shaky, though. Something isn’t right, but maybe it’s the sudden wedge between Rome and me that has me on edge.
My dad hands the headset back to me, but I don’t have time to question what Rome said to him.
The countdown has started, and Rome’s evened breathing is in my ear.
“After the race, it’ll all make sense, Princess.”
“Focus,” I say to him.
But really, I’m the one who should focus, because right as Rome takes off, my attention is on my dad and the way his shoulders tense as he glances down the line at Lucas Pierce.