Chapter 24
Niki
Ipace the garage. It’s just practice, not a proper race.
Senna stares at me. Jacs watches beneath her eyelashes. Connor’s brow furrows every time I pace closer to him.
I need to get in the car. I’m on a countdown timer. I’m letting the team down.
I tried calling Rosie before I left the hotel, but there wasn’t an answer. I’d forgotten she was having dinner with her family. I can’t expect her to drop everything for me.
My pulse rises when I glimpse the car. Senna glances at her screens, where Tawny’s on her practice lap. The noise I used to love, of F1 cars pushed to their limits on asphalt, sounds from the track. I swallow the saliva that’s stuck in my throat.
I need control.
“How can I help?” Connor asks, and I shake my head.
He shrugs at Senna.
I’m in the beautiful country of Japan, but all I saw before I came to the track were the walls of my hotel room, which closed in on me with each gasping breath.
Now when I breathe, it’s like I’m sucking in every germ and virus.
Being around all these people could kill me.
I can’t do this. I hold my chest, clawing at my overalls.
Vomit climbs my throat as I stare at my helmet that Connor’s trainer tries to pass it to me.
“Are you unwell?” he asks. “There are a couple of bugs going around. My little girl had one before I flew out. Kids, eh?”
I gag as I study where he grips my helmet. Sweat collects in the curls of my hair peeking from under my cap.
I need sanitiser and my Belle bracelet.
My body trembles, my vision blurring.
“What can I do?” Senna asks.
“I can’t—my bag,” I stutter.
Everyone’s staring now. People will talk about how I used to be something and now I’m nothing.
I remember how Scott, Billy’s brother, spoke about me.
I’ll never be the man I was. My face burns, and I panic it’s not fear but illness.
I was close to Connor’s trainer. I might’ve picked up his daughter’s bug.
Senna pushes my bag at me, and I grab the bracelet. I ignore her confusion and curiosity. My phone rings. I answer because it’s Rosie.
“Sorry, I should’ve called earlier, but extracting myself from my mum took a while, and Tabi was a little difficult when we got home. I’ve just got to bed.”
I choke a reply, but no words come out.
“Niki?” Her voice wavers. “Niki?”
But I still can’t speak.
“Speak to me, please. I need to hear you.”
Senna reaches for the phone, but I walk away.
“I can’t do this,” I gasp as tears roll down my cheeks. “I can’t drive the car. I’m not ready.”
“Then don’t,” Rosie replies. “You’re in control of this decision. It’s a practice session. No one will die if you don’t drive it, but your panic will destroy all your hard work.”
“But I’ll let people down.”
“Sir, take control. This is your decision.” The authority and her use of the word sir silence me. It reminds me I have some control. “Do you want to do this?”
I take a deep breath and wipe my tears away. “No. Not now.”
“Explain to Senna you’re not well. Go to your hotel and do whatever you need to make you feel in control. Call your counsellor. He made sure he’s available. And tomorrow, call me before you leave, because you’ll want to hide and not return to the track. But you will return, and do you know why?”
I shove everything in my bag. “Why?”
“Because you’ve advised the team before, and it’s where you excel. The team needs you, and I need to hear how it goes when you’re back in the office. You can control the environment when you’re advising. You’ll drive professionally again, but not today, and that’s okay.”
I’m taking deeper breaths now. My chest isn’t as tight. I squeeze the sanitiser bottle and breathe in the vanilla scent. My pulse slows.
“Okay. Hold on one second. Don’t go anywhere,” I say before turning to Senna. “I’m sorry. I’m not well. But I’ll be back for qualifying tomorrow. I’m sorry for letting you down.”
She shakes her head. “You haven’t let me down. Go to your hotel and rest. Do you want someone to drive you?”
“No. I want to drive myself.”
Her brows furrow, but before she asks questions, I stride out of the garage, avoiding eye contact with the team. “Thank you, Rosie. I’m leaving the track. I’ll call my counsellor as soon as I arrive at the hotel. You should get to bed. It’s the middle of the night there.”
“I’m already in bed. I’ve got my Coulter F1 Racing pyjamas on.” A flush replaces the panic that’s been like a vice across my chest. “I’ll talk to you until you’re in your car. Is that okay?”
“That’s perfect. You had problems with your mum and Tabi tonight?”
“Yeah. My mum cares about me, but her expectations are hard to manage. You know?”
“I do. You’ve met my dad, remember?”
“Parents.” She sighs, and the image of Connor’s trainer holding my helmet is replaced with a sighing Rosie in bed wearing pyjamas with my family name on them. My name. “But I’ll tell you about my mum another time. No one needs that when they’re already anxious.”
I smile despite everything I’ve been through today. “I’m nearly at my car now, so you can stand down, World’s Best Assistant.”
“My praise kink thanks you for that.”
A tickle hits my throat, and I clear it noisily. “I’ll get stickers designed with that slogan and cover your desk in them.”
She giggles. “You’ll make the other assistants jealous.”
“Good. Everyone should be jealous of you.”
“I do have the best boss, even if he’s a grumpy arse sometimes,” she teases.
I lean against my car. I don’t want to say goodbye, but as incredible as Rosie is, she’s no replacement for a professional therapist, and I wouldn’t want to put all my anxiety on her.
“Before I go, tell me how I can help you return to the track tomorrow. You need to be in control, so I want to help you with that.”
I suck in a breath. Images of controlling Rosie while I tell her she’s my good girl aren’t for sharing.
I’ve always been a fan of power play in the bedroom, but I expect if I got close to anyone again, my need for control would be acerbated.
These ideas about Rosie must be a reaction to the adrenaline rollercoaster I’m riding.
I clear my throat. “Thank you. I’ll message you before I leave for the track tomorrow. If you can talk, call me back.”
“Okay. And sir?”
My pulse races. I like that name too much. “Yes, Rosie?”
“Think about what you need me to do to help you regain control while I sleep. Whatever it is, I’m willing and ready. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
“Anything?” I gulp.
“Anything,” she repeats, her voice low with promise.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Rosabella,” I reply, my voice deeper than the fantasies I’m now falling into.