Chapter Seventeen
Henri
I looked out the window of my driver’s room, thanking the universe that the rain had cleared up.
Qualifying for the Austrian Grand Prix had been today, and once again I’d managed to squeak out a much-needed pole position.
This race had to go well, or I’d be even further behind Lily in points.
I was starting to feel the desperation of being behind her in the championship.
Two race wins separated us, and a third would feel almost damning.
My sister was curled on the gray sofa, legs tucked under her, scrolling through her phone while demolishing a protein bar.
Her eyes looked tired, and I knew she hadn’t been sleeping well.
This season the Valkyrie car hadn’t been performing, and based on their data, Georgia wasn’t expecting this weekend’s Grand Prix to go well.
I knew she’d started to accept that for the first time in three years, she wasn’t going to win this year’s World Driver’s Championship.
Still, she never took her frustration out on me.
I turned. “Quoi?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You drove erratically. It’s free practice, and you nearly took Lily out in Turn 6. Then you came within inches of the barriers during your next lap. I watched the whole thing.”
My collar suddenly felt too tight. I tugged at it, the fabric rough against my fingertips. “I was pushing the car. That’s what free practice is for.”
“Pushing the car?” Her voice rose slightly, disbelief coloring every word. “There’s a difference between testing limits and being reckless.”
“I needed to get data for the team,” I said through gritted teeth. “They need to know where the car is, what adjustments to make for qualifying. That’s my job.”
Georgia took a step closer, her eyes searching my face. “Henri, what’s going on with you? This isn’t normal. This morning you looked desperate.”
I flinched at the accusation. “I’m not desperate.”
But that wasn’t true, not that Georgia understood how I was feeling. This season might have been tough for her, but that didn’t take away the fact she’d achieved her dream of a win in Monaco and three championships.
I didn’t have either. “I need to win this race, Georgia. I need to.”
“Why?” Her voice softened slightly, but the concern in it only made my frustration worse. “We’re not even halfway through the season, Henri! One race doesn’t—”
“I’m already behind!” The words burst out of me, louder than I intended. “Lily’s ahead of me in the standings. Every point matters. One more mistake, one DNF, and the gap gets bigger. I can’t afford to give her any more ground. Not here. Not anywhere.”
Georgia stared at me, her expression still soft even though my voice was rising. “So, you’re going to kill yourself trying to prove a point in free practice? That’s your strategy?”
“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I said, forcing my voice to stay level even as anger simmered beneath the surface. “I’m trying to win. That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? Or have you forgotten?”
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Georgia’s face went carefully blank, the way it always did when I’d crossed a line.
“That was low,” she said quietly, and the apology sat on the tip of my tongue, but nothing came out.
Georgia sighed, and I could hear a small hint of desperation in my sister’s voice.
“Henri, listen to me. I know you’re under pressure.
I know what it’s like to feel like you’re carrying the weight of everything on your shoulders.
But you can’t drive like this. You’re going to hurt yourself, or someone else. I need to know you’re okay out there.”
“We needed the data. I’m—”
“—fine. Yes. So, you’ve said.” She sat back down, taking a sip of her coffee, trying to find the right words. “You know, éliott told me you haven’t answered any of his texts or calls since Monaco.”
I winced, guilt settling heavy in my chest. éliott didn’t deserve that.
He’d been my best friend since we were kids, and I’d been ignoring him like he was just another person trying to get something from me.
“I know. I’ve been a terrible friend.” I rubbed my hand over my face.
“I just haven’t felt like myself lately. Everything feels… off.”
“That’s not an excuse,” Georgia said, though her voice had lost some of its edge.
“I know it’s not.” I sighed. “I’ll catch up with him after this weekend. Properly, not just some five-minute check-in.”
Georgia nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer at least. The tension in the room eased slightly as she settled back on the sofa, picking up her phone again. We sat in silence for a few minutes, and after a refill of Georgia’s favorite coffee, I could feel us both start to relax.
Suddenly, a smile crossed her face. “Oh, look! Ollie posted a photo of him and Lily from Montreal, from their dinner. They look cute together, actually.”
I thought back to our conversation after my interview. Wonder if he posted that as a reminder to me?
Peering over Georgia’s shoulder, I glanced at the photo. “She’d better watch out with that one. He’s a snake.”
Georgia’s phone slipped slightly in her hand, her eyes widening. “What?”
“You heard me.” I turned back to the window, unable to look at her. “Ollie’s using her. For his career, his profile.”
“Henri…” Her voice had changed—gone softer, more probing. “Why do you say that? I know you’re annoyed that he asked you some tense questions in Montreal’s press conference, but that doesn’t mean he’s a snake.”
“He’s just… not right for Lily.”
She scoffed. “If you ask me, you’re acting jealous.”
“I’m not.”
“Sometimes I wish you’d just admit you like Lily.” Georgia said it with the certainty of someone who’d finally solved a puzzle she’d been working on for months.
Suddenly, I felt incredibly warm. “Georgia—”
“I just… I really thought you guys had something, that’s all. And now you make comments about Ollie when I mention him with Lily.” Her eyes searched my face, possibly seeing something she shouldn’t have. “Henri, is there something you’re not telling me? Did something happen between you two?”
“Nothing happened.” The words came out too quickly, too defensive.
“But you wanted something to happen,” Georgia said quietly. “Or… maybe something almost did?”
I pushed away from the window, grabbing my water bottle from the table with more force than necessary. “I’m done talking about this.”
“Henri—”
“I said I’m done, Georgia.” My voice came out harder than I intended, echoing off the bland walls. “Arête.”
She stared at me for a long moment, her expression caught between sympathy and frustration. “Fine,” she said finally. “But you acting like this isn’t helping anyone. Especially not yourself.”
I didn’t respond, just stood there gripping my water bottle like it was the only thing keeping me grounded, trying not to think about Ollie’s photo.
About his arm casually draped near Lily’s shoulder.
About the way he’d captioned it with some charming quip that had hundreds of comments speculating about them as a couple.
She’d better watch out.
The thought circled in my mind like a warning I couldn’t voice, a truth Georgia wouldn’t understand, because she didn’t know what I knew. Didn’t know what Ollie was capable of when he wanted something.
The door swung open hard enough to rattle the glass. Ruth swept in, her Hermes lanyard bouncing against a white silk blouse. Her gaze landed on Georgia with veiled disapproval.
“I see you’re still here.”
The team didn’t love having my sister in the Hermes driver’s suite, even if she was family. Georgia had learned to keep her distance over the years, to fade into the background when the cameras came out. But Ruth never missed a chance to make a point.
“Hello to you too,” Georgia said dryly, crossing her legs with the kind of calm that only irritated Ruth more.
Ruth didn’t bite—didn’t even spare her another look. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” She pointed her eyes squarely at me.
She slammed the tablet onto the coffee table hard enough to make both of us flinch.
My own face stared back at me from the screen, frozen mid-blink in a still from the Ollie interview.
I looked like someone I barely recognized, jaw tight, eyes cold, every muscle in my face betraying barely controlled anger.
Ruth jabbed the play button. My voice filled the room, flat and cold.
You don’t burn out on something you love.
Georgia’s eyebrows shot up. “Henri…”
“Compelling television,” Ruth said, tapping the screen again to stop it, “if the goal was to tank an interview about mental health.”
I exhaled slowly through my nose, trying to keep my expression neutral. The moment I walked out of that interview, I knew it would come back to haunt me. It hadn’t felt right in the moment, and hearing it back now? It felt even worse.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Except I did.
She turned her gaze back to me. “Then what did you mean?”
“Just that I love racing, and I’m lucky to be here in the Hermes seat. That this has been my dream since I was a child.”
“Then why didn’t you say that!” she groaned.
“And don’t get me started on the rest of the interview.
The short answers? The monotone voice? You couldn’t look less pleased to be there.
” Ruth spun toward Georgia as if searching for an ally, only to find her least favorite person in the room.
“This seems like something out of your playbook. Have you been teaching him this?”
A not-so-subtle dig at the fact my sister was famous for her one-word press-conference answers.
Georgia’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Besides the burnout answer, he didn’t sound that bad, Ruth. Being your authentic self is what people like these days.”
Ruth gave a humorless laugh. “Authenticity is a luxury reserved for people without seven-figure contracts. I need Henri to be someone else in this interview.”
“Come on, it’s not that bad.”