Chapter 22
FLAT SPOT: DAMAGE FROM LOCK-UP CAUSING VIbrATION
One second, I’m standing there staring at my own reflection in the lift doors after they close on her, and the next, I’m walking away slowly. Like I’m regaining my equilibrium after getting out of the car after a race.
Except the battle for Christin’s heart has just begun. Again.
I got what I asked for tonight. Christin cracked the door slightly to the possibility of more. Yet somehow, I’m terrified I’m going to make the same mistakes.
Moving over to the penthouse lift access, I ride up to my suite. I’m certain I should be invested in the splendor the sponsors acquired for me, but right now, I’m only trying to figure out what comes next.
I don’t turn on the lights right away. The glow from Yas Island lights my room enough to see, and I don’t need anything to help me think about Christin.
I recall every second of the way she looked at me across the table. She was engaged in a way she didn’t have to be. Suddenly, I recall her voice when she said, “You still hurt me.”
I drag a hand down my face and exhale slowly. I cross the room until I’m standing in front of the window. The glass is cool beneath my palm. “Brilliant,” I mutter under my breath. “Absolutely brilliant, Hawthorne.”
Staring out into space, I realize I couldn’t care less about placing well on the circuit if it meant making Christin happy again. Sure, the car is finally responding the way it should. Everything is moving in the right direction. Best finish I’ve had in a while.
Yet the only thing I can think about is whether I deserved the way she looked at me tonight—cautious generosity commingled with empathy.
She had every right to refuse to celebrate with me. To slam the door closed and disregard my request. Instead, she’s thinking about it. Her uncertainty now is like a mirror reflecting back at me the subconscious anxiety I felt all those months ago.
The space I wedged between us now forces me to sit and think about her. Us. How I can prove to her that my heart is hers to take or discard. I’ve already accepted I’m going to do this her way—consistently, without any guarantee I’ll earn her back in the end.
Rolling my head back and forth across the glass, I let out a groan. “Is this what they mean when they say slow and steady wins the race?”
A lump forms in my throat. I’m used to pushing the envelope. But trying to win Christin back makes me feel like I’m out of control. My eyes open again, focusing on my reflection staring back at me. I force myself to face the truth—nothing between Christin and me is settled.
Except my heart.
I admit something I’ve never said aloud before.
“You deserved to lose her.” Because the truth is, I had one foot in our relationship and the rest of me protected by walls.
My whole life revolved around the idea of being let down.
I never thought I’d ever meet someone who could make me fall in love and then realize that would be the worst thing in the world to happen to them.
The truth is, until Christin threw me out of her home with some brutal truths, I was just operating safely inside the cycle.
Now I realize I love her more than my fears.
I’ll do whatever it takes to win her back—even if that means spending a lot of time in my own discomfort.
I swear I won’t deflect any of Christin’s questions, especially the hard ones, as I hope she learns to trust me again.
I also vow to let her see my heart is hers to do anything with, such as it is.
I realize I’m gambling not just with my life, the way I do in the car. I’m risking something far more tenuous.
Hope.
Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I stride once across the room before stopping on a dime. I don’t know what to do with myself. That’s when her voice drifts through my mind. “You’ll want to pace yourself.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly to the empty room. “I gathered that.”
Pacing has never been my strength as a driver. I trained myself to close gaps before they had a chance to be permanent.
That’s how I drive. That’s how I’ve lived. And that’s exactly what broke us the first time. My jaw tightens because now the only way forward is the opposite of everything that comes naturally to me—restraint, consistency, patience.
Three things I’ve never needed to rely on for anything that mattered.
Until her.
My hands settle on my hips as I stare out over the city again. “If I want her, I’m going to have to repair what I’ve broken. One day at a time.”
She’s everything I could ever want in a partner—smart and attractive, with a deadpan sense of humor that makes me smile long after her comment lands. She challenges me without trying and doesn’t let me get away with anything, tonight or any night.
“I can’t half-ass this.” With no controlled outcome, the only thing I can do is be all in. No pulling back when it gets hard.
The weight of what I’m carrying fills the room, but it’s different now. It has purpose. It’s not just an undefined pressure on my chest. I realize it’s the anticipation in the moment before the lights go out on the grid. My shoulders finally drop a fraction.
Because for the first time since she stepped into my garage, I understand what I’m up against.
It’s not her. Never was.
It’s me.
The version of me that learned to expect nothing, to protect myself first. I know if I let my fears take over again without giving her a chance to see if she can handle them, I’ll lose her. My jaw tightens, resolve settling in under the weight of everything else. “Not happening.”
Not this time.
I finally reach for the remote to control the lights. The room instantly brightens, leaving no shadows. It’s an echo of what I know I’m going to have to do to win Christin back. No hiding. No version of me that keeps her at a distance by using an excuse to protect my heart.
I move toward the bedroom, slower now but steadier because, for once, I’m not thinking ten steps ahead. I’m not trying to predict how this will end.
I’m just…here.
With the knowledge that she didn’t walk away.
Though she might if I give her a reason to. “Don’t ruin this.”