25. FORMULA 1 #2
Right as the drivers were climbing into their cars for the formation lap, I fell back into my seat, shoving Dyson’s fries and a drink into his outstretched hands.
“Gimme. Hurry, bro, they’re about to kick off,” he said, eyes glued to the start line. “Gum?” He held his hand out flat, his eyes still on the track.
“Relax.” Grinning, I passed him the food.
“You’re a legend.” He stuffed more fries into his mouth as the F1 cars disappeared around the bend for the formation lap, warming up before they returned to the grid.
Settling back into our seats, the drivers looped back after a short time. With motors revving, they pulled up into their starting positions on the grid, in order of fastest to slowest—determined in the qualifying sessions the day before.
The sun set the sky ablaze in dazzling shades of red and orange, reflecting across the bodywork of the cars. A pang of longing twisted through my stomach.
If only Ivy was here to see this.
Red and orange shifted to brilliant shades of violet and blue, anticipation hung in the air as the crowd took a collective breath, waiting for the signal.
At exactly five p.m., the lights went out, then with a thunderous roar, the cars rocketed into motion. As they hurtled toward the first corner, fighting for position with barely a breath of space between them, the crowd erupted.
Our heads jerked to the left as the cars screamed past, then whipped back to the right when they looped back again.
Anchored to our seats, we watched the race unfold. Lap after lap, drivers went wheel-to-wheel through corners, refusing to give an inch.
Sparks showered beneath the cars as they skimmed the track at breakneck speed, jostling for position and threading through impossible gaps.
Every overtake drew cheers from some sections of the crowd and groans from the others.
After fifty-eight white-knuckled laps, Diego Tierra headed the pack and hurtled toward the finish line. The cheering swelled to a deafening crescendo as he surged across the line.
Archie Jenson shot across the line a split second after Diego, as shouts of joy rang out. And as the remaining cars spilled over the line, the checkered flag waved from above the pit wall—signaling the climax of the race.
As a salute to the spectators—and to celebrate the end of the season—a few drivers spun their cars in circles. The crowd went wild again, and thick streams of smoke billowed from their tires as they spun into doughnut maneuvers.
“Yes!” I jumped out of my seat. “He’s got a podium finish.”
“He bloody well did it!” Dyson shook his head in wonder. “That’s our boy. He always was a madman behind the wheel. I’ve got to give it to him. He’s got talent.”
“A podium finish! That’s fucking insane. He might give you some driving tips. Maybe then you can keep your car on the road,” I joked as I shoved him.
“Come on, smart-ass, let’s get down to the podium for the ceremony,” said Dyson with a wide grin. “Archie said if he was on the podium, he wanted us down there.”
I took in the sea of people engulfing us. “Bro, have you seen the crowd?”
“Archie’s sorted it with security,” Dyson said calmly. “We just need to give the word, and they’ll take us there. Remember… VIPs, baby.”
We made our way to the top of the stadium and found two security guards, who, with us close behind, cleared a path through the crowd to the podium.
The winners stood proudly as we watched from nearby while Diego shook hands with the Sheikh, who presented him with the gleaming silver Formula One World Drivers’ Championship trophy.
A few spectators pumped their fists into the air as the crowd erupted in cheers. With a broad smile, Diego raised the silver trophy high above his head.
Archie stepped forward next, then the Sheikh congratulated him warmly before presenting him with his trophy. Another wave of cheering rolled through the crowd and, flashing a grin, Archie lifted the trophy triumphantly into the air.
“Go, Archie!” I yelled, clapping.
“You did it, Archie!” Dyson shouted, clapping beside me.
Lars Visser, the driver who took third place, accepted his trophy, moments later all three drivers shook magnums of champagne, showering each other and the crowd.
Archie scanned the crowd until his eyes landed on me. Grinning, he pointed and waved before throwing us an enthusiastic double thumbs-up.
The moment Archie singled us out, the photographers swung their lenses toward us. When my face appeared on the screen, I turned away as they zeroed in.
***
GOLD COAST, AUSTRALIA
IVY
A wave washed over me as I lay on my board watching the sunrise.
It’d been tempting to curl deeper beneath the covers and fall back asleep. Instead, I’d forced myself up, splashed cold water over my face, tucked my board under my arm, padding across the sand as a kaleidoscope of color spread across the horizon.
As the rhythm of the ocean carried me over the crest of the waves, my mind drifted back to when Jai and I were kids…
I’d shake him awake before dawn to come surfing with me, he’d groan that I was the worst sister ever. Right up until we hit the water. Then he’d laugh, promising that the next morning he’d be the one waking me up.
But come the next day, it always started the same way—with me dragging him out of bed while he complained the entire time.
Surfing had always been my tonic. I’d grown up along one of the best coastlines in the world, and I never took that for granted.
The rise and fall of the swell while I wait for the perfect break.
That weightless rush when I ride the crest. The power surging beneath me when I’m part of the wave.
In those moments… I’m connected to something bigger.
There’s nothing else like it.
Life’s hurts didn’t disappear in the waves, but the ocean helped soothe the sting. I’d gone out that morning hoping to dull the ache.
Somehow it worked.
As darkness gave way to morning, the sky bled vivid oranges and pinks, and something inside me renewed.
Light spilled across the water just as a pod of dolphins broke the surface nearby. They circled playfully before vanishing beneath the waves, reappearing moments later to ride the swell beside me.
My chest swelled.
And in that moment, I knew… one way or another, things were going to work out.
With my board under my arm, I stepped back onto the sand and brushed water from my face before jogging up the beach toward the house.
It was a brand-new day.
For the first time in too long, I couldn’t stop smiling.
***
Guests spilled out of the living room where we’d gathered to watch the Abu Dhabi F1 Grand Prix.
Even though most of us had to work the next day, nobody cared that the race—starting at five p.m. in Abu Dhabi—wasn’t beginning until midnight.
I was totally pumped. Even my friend Kobi—who’d moved to Sydney to live with her boyfriend—was coming!
Lila, Suki, Olivia, Sass, hordes of relatives, partners, friends, and neighbors had all squeezed into the house waiting for the race to start.
Sass had raved relentlessly about it for days. She’d even had a massive new TV installed for the occasion. Her dream was to watch a live race in Monte Carlo one day.
A car pulled up out front. I hurried out onto the deck when I saw Kobi climbing out of the back.
“Girl!” I called out excitedly. “Get over here. Oh my god, I missed you, babe.”
“Ivy, so good to see you too!” she said with a gentle smile, wrapping me in a hug. “How are you holding up lovely?” “One day at a time, but I’m good,” I told her, trying to sound convincing more for myself than her.
She squeezed me tightly before pulling back.
“How’s Curtis?” I asked politely, despite not being overly impressed when I’d met him. He’d seemed more interested in watching everyone else in the café than Kobi.
“I’m good. Curtis is good. Sydney’s good.”
“Good,” I replied before we both burst out laughing.
Talking the whole time, we hurried inside so we wouldn’t miss the start of the race.
“Who wants more drinks?” Sass called out.
After a chorus of yeses, she waved over a guy I didn’t recognize. “If you grab some more cold drinks out of the fridge, I’ll get the snacks. Hurry! We don’t want to miss the start.”
My thoughts drifted to Karson.
He’d reached out every day to fix things. The thought of him hurting sent a sharp ache through my chest. Part of me still wondered if I’d made a mistake. But so much had gone wrong between us that fighting against it felt exhausting.
Maybe it was better to focus on rebuilding my own life instead of something his father had already torn apart. That didn’t mean I missed him any less.
Or that it hurt any less. Because it hurt like hell—
“Ivy, come sit.” Jai patted the cushion beside him. “The race is about to start.”
I’d nearly screamed with happiness when my brother walked through the door wearing his huge carefree grin. It’d been almost a year since I’d last seen him. His hair was more sun-bleached than ever, his skin carried its usual golden tan, but his green eyes seemed brighter than I remembered.
“Jai, I still can’t believe you’re here,” I said happily.
“It’s great to see you, sis. I would’ve visited sooner if I could’ve afforded the bus ticket.” He smirked. “Though honestly, I’ve been having too much fun shredding waves at Bells and Torquay to mind. I won two heats too. That’s how I raised my fare.” He ran his hand through his tangled hair.
“You could’ve just stayed in Byron and won the comps there instead of blowing all your money,” I teased.
“True… but where’s the fun in that?” he drawled, flashing white teeth.
“I’m just glad you’re here, little bro.”
“Little bro?” He shook his head. “I’m way taller than you!”