21. Racing to the End
RACING TO THE END
LARS
T he Melges 24 was a sweet ride any day of the week—my preferred craft to pilot. My little racing sailboat will do fine with my brothers aboard. Keir may have the fabulous, over-the-top sailing yacht, but I had this beauty. It was super light and fast. And on this morning, it would do the best of any of our boats.
“I have to disagree with your colours,” Nate, Keir’s younger brother, protested. “Norway? There are more Brits on the boat.”
I shook my head. “I’m its owner. You’re on my vessel. We’re flying Norway’s flag, mate. Sorry.”
“It matters not what flag we fly,” Keir said. “We will beat the others.”
Win and Ollie, my youngest stepbrothers, readied the sails, and began our final checklist.
“Don’t go yet!”
I looked over to see Rose bounding down the pier.
“I have something for you.”
Her hands held a ridiculous necklace complete with Christmas lights.
“Really, Rose?” I snickered.
“Look, it’s a Christmas sort of thing. Don’t be all bah humbug, darling. Plus, it matches your colours. I wasn’t about to doubt them.”
It was very on-brand for a Christmas enthusiast.
“Fine,” I agreed, taking the silly gag gift.
“Have a good race,” Rose said. “Best of luck.”
I didn’t get a kiss goodbye. She wasn’t obligated to one. However, I noted how I longed for one. It would have felt more complete. I worried it might complicate things, but also, it felt wrong to ignore her after we’d spent an entire night together.
“Wait,” I said. “For good luck.”
I pulled Rose back to me and kissed her lips, catching her off guard. To my surprise, she kissed me back, lingering too long, before pulling away.
“Godspeed, boys!” Rose declared, racing back up to where Betty stared daggers at me. She’d been with Rose all morning. It annoyed me to no end.
“Betty wants to murder you,” Keir said.
“I don’t understand it. Why take it out on me and not Rose?”
“She expects you to behave better. I got the same from her when she found out Ingrid and I were shagging. It’s fine. She’ll let it go eventually. Our baby sister isn’t that vengeful.”
“She’s not a baby,” I sighed. “She’s barely younger than Ingrid.”
“She always seems like one,” Win chuckled. “Can we focus on the course and get out there?”
'“Sure, I agreed. It’s time.”
I put the stupid necklace on, tucking it into my polo for freedom of movement.
“You’re really going to wear the damn thing?” Ollie teased. “You have it for her bad. I don’t care how cool the two of you play it.”
“It’s a bit of fun—for both of us. This thing isn’t serious, Oliver.”
“Certainly seems like it is. Why else are you kissing her before a race? And like that? It wasn’t a fucking peck, mate. Don’t deny it,” Win teased.
Perhaps it wasn’t? Maybe I was more invested than I cared to admit, but I’d deny it. She was clear this wasn’t long-term or serious. We were having fun—tempted by little more than good conversation and hot sex. After this, I’d stay here for the Carribean sailing season in practice for the Olympics. She’d return home to Scotland. There was little opportunity for something else. Even if I had feelings, it didn’t matter.
“The wind is better on the port side,” I said, changing the subject. “We’d be best to go out and take that route. I notice most of them seem to keep closer. This entire course has been like this. But today, I don’t think that’s the best option.”
“Agreed,” Keir said. “Keep it steady and go wide.”
It took a long time for the race committee to set the start. Win and Ollie responded by poking fun about this woman who’d come on to Ollie the night before—a very drunk, delusional woman. The two of them always joked more than focused. While it annoyed Keir and me, the twins lived in their own world. This was typical of nearly any situation.
Finally, we lined up at the start, in no hurry. Two boats crossed the start early and had to turn back. One was nearly taken out, got a penalty and was ejected before they technically started.
“You know that’s Callan’s boat, right?” Keir asked, delighting in the competition between The Ex and myself.
“Just keep focused,” I called to everyone. “Ignore those pricks.”
There was no time to think about my “competition”, even if it satisfied me to know Rose’s controlling ex had already been bested. While I would take the high road, I was glad to see the bad guy lose.
It didn’t matter who got in our way or what happened. We were on course, navigating to the best of our abilities. And with Ollie and Win being pros at balancing the boat as needed, I could focus on the race alone and the rudder. I preferred to concentrate on steering, not trusting Ollie or Win to listen half the time. They were better as human load balancers. Keir was reliably good at barking orders, having commanded an entire squadron of pilots in a past life.
“Ollie, pull harder!” He barked.
We jibbed hard, pulling the boat back towards, then against the wind. The ship picked up speed. What started slow was now going fast. The goal was spatial awareness. I relied on Keir for that. If the man could navigate a jet without thinking, he was the best person to relay information. We may not have always gotten on, but we worked in perfect harmony out here. The twins rarely argued, glad to do most of the physical labour. It’d been like this forever. We all had our roles. Pappa taught us that everyone had their place on a sailboat. The entire crew mattered. Being a star of the show won you no favours.
The course was fast that day. I could glance down at our time as necessary to figure out we were doing well—but so were several other boats. We pulled up close to a familiar ship. Rose’s family was in pole position near us. The House of Lauderdale wasn’t disappointing.
“They’re out for blood,” Win declared. “I blame you, Lars!”
“It doesn’t matter. Focus on your damn job,” I called back.
Her brothers were competitive no matter what. Mac was laid back, but Niall was bloodthirsty in a race. He’d been like this since childhood. We were close in age, and he never failed to keep up with me while I was on the water. They were a threat no matter what. But the truth was, I couldn’t focus on them. I stuck to our trajectory. Keir, too, zoned in on our finish line, ignoring all else.
We jibbed and tacked towards the end until I realised it was probably in the bag. Ollie and Win were already celebrating.
“Fucking focus!” I barked. “This isn’t over yet.”
It wasn’t. The Brits gained along with one American vessel full of Olympic hopefuls. I knew we’d probably outpace them, but only if we didn’t give it away by celebrating too soon.
Finally, we crossed the finish line in what seemed like first place. When the announcement finally came in, we’d bested the competitors. We celebrated at the dock triumphant. The Americans were second and third. The Brits were a lousy fourth and unhappy about it. I was sickeningly satisfied by our win. We’d gloriously trounced the Ferguson men.
Posing with our new spoils felt delightful. However, the excited hug and kiss I got from Rose felt even better.
“I am so glad you killed it,” Rose laughed. “They are so cross. It’s glorious to watch you bring them down a peg.”
“You’re awful,” I chuckled.
“Nah. I’m fucking great. And so are you, Lars. Now, get washed up. I’m taking you to dinner, and then you’ll be toiling on our boat to prepare it for tomorrow. We will kill the competition, darling.”
I spotted none other than Callan waiting in the wings as we soaked up our win.
Whether in retaliation or jubilation, I swept Rose up in a kiss.
As I pulled back, I felt the need to whisper, “I will do whatever you tell me as long as you let me go down on you later.”
She was mine for now. I wanted her to know that. I also wanted her to think about me—not him—long after this week. I would leave my mark one way or the other.
“Fucking deal,” Rose said. “Whatever you want, Lars. To the victor, go all the spoils.”
Maybe she did or didn’t see him watching us like a hawk. I wanted badly to know her reaction was genuine. Yes, I knew it was still a glorious game. However, my feelings for her went beyond trying to put her awful ex in his place. I wanted more.