Chapter 14
WARM-UP PHASE: TIME FOR TIRES TO REACH OPTIMAL TEMP
My father taught me that the rhythm of a track is dictated by the drivers. Merely stepping into the home of Apex Orion Racing, I know something is off.
While Apex Orion has been optimized enough to win, there’s a fluidity missing. Sure, things are efficient and clear-cut, but just beneath that, I sense hesitation, as if the people working with Leo can’t figure out how to optimize his talent instead of forcing him to conform.
It mirrors the data I’ve been studying.
By the time I finish the nickel tour, meet the engineering and tech teams for each driver, and upload the new telemetry prototype, it’s nine a.m. I’m startled when Dario falls into step beside me as we both make our way to the pit wall. He asks, “Settling in?”
“Settled and already evaluating.”
“What’s your initial take?”
I study the asphalt track. “Leo’s tremendous, but he’s compensating for something.”
His face expresses intrigue. “You noticed that?”
I briefly consider if there’s a dual meaning behind his words before deciding to answer, “That’s what the data tells me.”
Behind us, the pit crew is already in motion. The crew chief calls out updates. Within seconds, all four tires are replaced. A low hum of anticipation builds inside me as the car is rolled into position. Leo stands beside it with a look of fierce concentration etched across his face.
“You want to see him run the track?” Dario asks.
Immediately, I perk up. “Full lap. No constraints. No staged input.”
His gaze flicks toward Leo, then back to me. “You don’t ease into things, do you?”
“No.” That includes my relationship with the man I now have to study for the foreseeable future.
Dario calls out, “Leo. Full lap.”
His head turns, and I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge the way my heart accelerates when his gaze locks on me.
Even through my sunglasses, I feel the intensity—focused and impossible to ignore.
His helmet is tucked under his arm, his race suit unzipped at the collar and darkened slightly by the effects of the Nevada heat.
He doesn’t say anything. Just holds my gaze for a second longer than necessary before sliding on his helmet, stepping over the side, and sliding down into the car.
I let out a sigh of relief and tell myself, You’re here for results. Not to rehash our past. At least not right now.
Leo ignites the engine. The sharp sound cuts cleanly through my personal meanderings. Refocusing, I pull up my tablet and rest it on the pit wall. Synced with the telemetry screen as well as the car output, I should be able to determine if a bug smashing against Leo’s visor throws him off.
He completes his safety checks before easing the car out of the pit for his formation lap to bring his tires and brakes up to racing temperature. He passes by where Dario and I are standing. Seconds later, he drops the hammer, and soon, I’m treated to the screaming sound of speed.
I can’t prevent my lips from curving with pleasure as inputs follow—steering angles, brake pressure, throttle use. Even as I scan the readouts, I notice my new software inputs point out a weakness. I lean over to tell Dario, “He’s adjusting early.”
“Where?” Dario asks.
“Corner entry,” I say, pointing to the readout. “He’s correcting before the system stabilizes. Which means he doesn’t trust it to catch up.”
Dario leans over, eyes narrowing on my screen. “Are you saying there’s a lag in the car that’s forcing him to anticipate the turn?”
“I’m saying he’s anticipating instead of driving based on actual data. Look here at corner three and again here at corner six.”
Dario lifts his mic to his lips, ordering Leo, “Keep going. Full open. We’re getting good data.”
Another lap. Faster this time. The corrections are more apparent. “He’s overcompensating because he’s used to the response of the older software.”
“Can you fix it?” Dario asks.
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Fifteen minutes and multiple laps later, I give Dario the high sign to have Leo bring it in. Leo returns the car to the pit, cutting the engine as the team moves in. I don’t look in his direction right away. I stare down at my data before Dario urges me closer to him.
The second I reach him, I demand, “Again.”
Dario glances at me. “Didn’t you just say—”
“Again,” I repeat with confidence.
A heartbeat passes before Dario agrees. “She’s in charge.”
There’s no argument from Leo. No pushback. Instead, he uses his in-car hydration system to take a quick drink before aiming the vehicle back out onto the track.
The second run is cleaner. Not because the system is better—but because he’s trusting the readouts more. He’s not anticipating; he’s adapting to the quality of the data. Which confirms exactly what I suspected. It’s not him; it’s the software. And that’s something I can fix over time.
The car rolls in for the second time. This time I step forward before the engine fully dies.
He’s still in the cockpit when I approach him. I start my analysis before he can speak. “You fought the changes initially.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t trust it. I was just starting to when things were interrupted.”
His look pierces through me, and I know he’s talking about more than his run. I lean in and gesture toward his steering wheel display. “You’re compensating on entry, then chasing it on exit. Your steering input curve is out of sync with the system response.”
His brows lower, but there’s no defensiveness in his expression. “Will I be able to trust the data?”
“I’ve already made a number of improvements and will continue to do so, yes.”
A second passes. That’s when I realize how close we are to one another. My heart skips a beat. Though my eyes are hidden behind the tint of my reflective sunglasses, his aren’t. I see the intensity with which he’s staring at me. How his eyes flick down to my lips and back up again.
The air between us shifts—subtle, but undeniable. It’s fueled by our past connection, yet it’s different. Turning my head away, I stare at the car. Then an idea hits me. “I want to test your skills, Leo.”
His brow furrows. “Didn’t you just get an up close and personal view of what I can do?”
“Huh.” I scrunch my nose. “You think this is all you can handle?”
I see it in the way his expression flickers, just for a second. I’ve challenged him.
Good.
I gesture toward the track. “This place is predictable for you.”
“And?”
“You can hide mistakes here.”
He lifts his chin. “You think there’s more.”
“Maybe. Want to find out?”
“Where?”
I twist my head and point in the direction of where I’m staying. “My father’s track.”
There’s a pause before he asks carefully, “Do you mean to tell me my mysterious neighbor all these years has been none other than your father?”
“Yes.”
“You’re offering me a chance to drive on Lewis Porter’s track,” he reiterates.
Dario steps beside me, attention sharpening. “I’ve heard rumors your father’s track isn’t forgiving.”
“They’re well earned,” I reply. “If you want to push the limits—yours and the system’s—you can’t continue to do it somewhere predictable. Safe won’t get you what you want.”
Silence settles for half a second before Leo asks, “You think I’ve been playing it safe?”
I consider the question before I answer. “I think your driving is strong. It’s been good enough. Now is your chance to be better. If you really want to be, that is.”
My words hang between us, laden with dual meaning.
Something in his expression shifts again—not anger. Not offense. Recognition. He exhales slowly, gaze dropping for a fraction of a second before returning to mine. “When can we go?”
“Any time, really.” I slide my hand into my pocket and wait.
He exhales slowly. “Then I’m ready to try…if you’ll let me.”
The words settle somewhere under my ribs—dangerous, unwelcome—and I hate that a part of me still wants to believe him. I don’t answer right away. He doesn’t get that from me anymore—easy, immediate.
I hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary then I nod decisively before asking, “This afternoon?”
Dario breaks in between the tension arcing between us. “We’ll have the car there in an hour.”
Neither Leo nor I acknowledge his agreement. For a second, everything but the intensity with which Leo is staring at me fades away—his team. The track. Reason.
I step back and grin. “Relax. You’re going to need to be your best.”
“You don’t think I can handle it?” Leo asks with a hint of rare arrogance.
“Has any Porter made it easy on you?”
To my side, I hear Dario choke on a laugh. Leo turns his head and scowls at him. My lips twist into a smirk. “Let’s see how you hold up on Dad’s track.”
Walking away, I gather my computer and head out through the garage to my car. I know—without looking—he’s following my every movement.