10. Maddock
Maddock
God, I’m so fucking close. I just need two more laps to get ahead of the two cars in front, and then I can get there. I need a first so badly.
But it just isn’t my day. I’m so obsessed with not getting in second that I’ve already fucked up twice and had to box in the pit lane to change my tires six laps before I was scheduled to, shooting me down to fourth.
Jaxx is back in sixth, so there is no way that asshole is cutting me up. I just have to keep my foot down, brake right, and turn on point.
I’ll overtake on the next straight before we pass under the lights.
Plus, I want to make sure Jaxx can’t make any snarky comments about me not trying.
I get pissy about placing second, but this is Vegas. This is one of the big ones, and standing on the podium here means so much more to me than any of the other races out there.
And not just because the entire track reminds me of Harmony.
Vegas is where she received her first offer for F1, and Vegas had been the real first race of her career.
And telling her I loved her as she came down from the podium holding her trophy was the best feeling in the world.
At least there’s no smiling billboard like in Brazil. I thought that meant I’d be free of her, and I could just focus on the track.
Even though they’d replaced it with another Etihad plane sponsorship, I still glance up at the billboard on the other side of the lights, expecting to see her smiling down at me.
And instead, I see something so much worse.
Because my gaze skips to the Grace paddock, and I catch a shock of long ginger hair that I’d recognize anywhere.
Slamming my pedals, I screech into the corner, nearly losing control of the car.
I don’t brake soon enough and almost send myself spinning.
I gasp, heart flying into my throat. The force nearly crushes me as I turn so hard I swear I'll snap the control.
Jacob will kill me if I total the car because I got distracted by his sister.
As I speed away from the Grace paddock, pure anger blazes in me, and my body roars along with the engine.
Because she shouldn’t fucking be here. She said she was never coming to another race again because of me. Because I ruined everything for her. Even though the Graces were born racers, I was the one who killed her love for it.
Harmony said I fucking destroyed her life, and she never once thought about how it would affect me. She just flung all her pain at me, grabbed her bags, and left. The only time I saw her again was at her retirement interview, and they put me four seats away from her where I couldn’t see her.
Because I was so furious I couldn’t even say a word.
And because I missed her so fucking much that it hurt to even look at her billboard in Brazil, let alone see her.
Which is why I speed away as quickly as I can.
Knowing that she’s up there, knowing that my omega is in the paddock watching me race, sends a new kind of rage blaring through me.
It feels like she’s looking down on me.
I’ve never won. Not before her, with her, or after her. Not once have I won a fucking race, and I’m becoming a washed-up has-been that stayed on the team because I’m friends with Jacob.
And now she's here to gloat, to prove to me that “there’s more to life than racing”. That’s what she said before she walked out of the door.
I grit my teeth as a growl rumbles from me, and I put my foot down.
“Jacob, how close is P2?”
“1.9 seconds,” he says. “And it's a Cuba Libre. You can do it if you push.”
“What about Jaxx?”
“He’s still in sixth.”
“Good,” I say coldly. The radio is broadcast live on TV, and we’re supposed to keep teammate drama low, though fans know how I feel about Jaxx. I’ve already had a bollocking about the way I acted during the last Grand Prix.
Even though Jaxx is my biggest competitor, I still don’t want him to fall below tenth position and not add any points to our team total.
I want the driver’s championship for myself, but I also want the constructor’s championship.
Which means Jaxx has to finish up there with me, no matter how annoying he is.
And now she is here.
The lap is almost over. We’re already swinging back onto the Vegas Strip, and my heart clenches too hard. I need to make sure it’s her, that she has the audacity to show up here, of all places.
More memories of her hit me as another shot of pure anger fires through me and I switch up the gears, screaming out onto the straight and instantly gaining on the burnt caramel Cuba Libre car.
“Maddock, you need to save those tires; we aren’t boxing you again.”
“Got it,” I say stiffly. But there is no way I’m listening when I need to see if it’s really Harmony or just wishful thinking.
Jacob might have won the world championships the year he debuted in F1, but he hasn’t met his scent match. He doesn’t understand what it’s like for an alpha to live without their omega.
Jacob and Mr. Grace are the reasons I was on the Vegas track in the first place.
I just happened to be in the same karting class as Jacob when we were seven, became friends with him, got noticed by his dad, and the rest is history.
Except for that little girl who used to follow us around, especially when she was old enough to start karting. She followed us into F3, and then F2, and she could have reached us in F1. I could have been racing next to her today instead of that asshole Jaxx if she hadn’t left me.
A growl rumbles from me as I take the ninety-degree corner too hard. I yell as the car over-steers, the back tires losing grip as it swings outwards, and I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.
I have that one second, the amazing moment where the car becomes weightless.
Where I’m flying because there’s nothing but me, the screeching wheels on the tarmac, and the night air.
We skid together as I wait for the crash.
All because I fucked up a turn. Because even the briefest chance she’s up there and I lose my mind.
I swear, this is it. I swear I’m done for, and I’m going to blame it on Harmony Grace for turning up without warning.
But I spin the steering wheel sharply left, grabbing just enough friction on the tarmac for the car to grip, the body to shake, and for me to speed off of the corner into another straight.
“Maddock, what the fuck is going on?” Jacob snaps.
“I’m fine, I just took it too quick,” I lie. Because I’m already coming around the next corner on the straight toward the Grace paddock.
And I half-hope that I've made a mistake. Her hair is the most distinctive thing about her. It’s a gorgeous ginger wave that runs all the way down her back, and it’s so silky soft that it was like a blanket that covered my chest whenever she fell asleep on me.
My body aches with need, and another growl tears from me as I switch the engine mode and flick the gears to get my speed up.
“Maddock, you’re on medium tires; you can’t risk going that fast right now. Not after the stunt you just pulled.”
“How far away is P2?” I ask again. Because I’m close enough that I’m pretty sure I can catch him.
The radio is silent, and I know what they’re doing again.
“Jacob! Tell me where P2 is.”
“Close,” he says reluctantly. “He’s only 1.2 seconds ahead of you.”
I grin, my gaze hardening. I seriously don’t want to look up at the paddock to see if she’s still there.
But I can’t help myself. It’s been too long.
Every year I go home during off-season, I visit the Graces, and I'm always half-excited and half-scared that she’ll be there.
When she left F1, a wall slammed between her and her family, and we all had to deal with the awkwardness of me joining the Graces for dinners, celebrations, and holidays without her.
Sometimes I imagined I'd just missed her, and I could still smell the scent of strawberries and cream floating through her family’s house like a tease.
I glance up, and she’s right there, at the very edge of the balcony, leaning over, watching my car.
I can’t see her face, but I want to imagine that she’s cheering me on. Like she has any right to after the way we left things.
Another growl tears through me, and I slam my foot down.
I need to go harder if I’m going to win this thing. I can hear Jacob shouting in my ear, telling me again and again to watch my tires, but I don’t give a fuck.
I’m too caught up in the memories of Harmony Grace, and how she broke us down and left.
As soon as I shoot past the paddock, it’s like I’m lonely. Like the fact that she has disappeared from my sight leaves me breathless. I remember that feeling from when we were dating, and I hate it more than ever.
I loved her so much, and one day she dropped that she was leaving F2, rejected all her offers, and left me.
And that was it. We were done.
And I swore I was never going to forgive her for a fucking second.
“Three laps, Maddock. Just take it easy. Hold it there.”
My alpha senses are yelling at me to get the race over with so I can see her. First or second suddenly doesn’t matter. I just need to get off the track.
My anger blazes too hard, and I tear down the straight, aiming for a one second gap between us so I can activate the DRS system to give me the speed boost I need to get toward the dickhead who has stayed seconds ahead of me for the last six laps.
I am not doing this anymore. I’m tired of coming in second. I say it for every race, but I’m seriously not holding back.
If Harmony sees me crash, then that will be another excuse for her to look down on me.
But I won’t give her the satisfaction.
I roar straight toward the Cuba Libre, cutting him on the corner, forcing him to go wide so he doesn’t bump into me and take us both out.
I grit my teeth as I clear him and zoom off.
“Fuck yeah,” I growl to Jacob's deafening silence.
There’s still P1 to deal with, so I’m not celebrating yet.
“Okay, Maddock, that’s enough for today. P1 is 2.7 seconds ahead. Two and a half laps left. Just keep it steady and bring it back home with a second.”
The strategists form their plans around my bullshit, and Jacob must have known his sister was coming, too. He should have accounted for the fact I would do anything to see her again, no matter how much rage burns in me.
“So, three seconds, yeah?” I ask.
“Maddock, don’t do it,” Jacob warns.
“I’ll just stop replying if you start shouting at me like last time.”
“Goddammit, Maddock, can’t you just hold back for once?”
“Don’t distract me, Jacob. I’ve got a race to win.”
And an omega to get back to.
Each track is divided into three Sectors, with the finish line between Sector 3 and 1.
I hurl myself into Sector 2, and I know I’ve gained at least half a second.
It seems like my desperation is a good fuel as well, because I can see the indigo Warren car in P1 ahead.
“Maddock, you’re going to blow your fucking tires if you push too hard. P3 is two seconds behind. Just take the P2; you don’t need to win this to get a place in the championships.”
But it isn’t about that. It’s about getting back to his sister, the girl with the ginger hair and green eyes so clear they hurt, and to the one who never explained why she left me.
“I told you I’m going for it. So, shut the fuck up, and let me drive.”