Chapter 34
Max
“You’re not still thinking about your mom, are you?”
I should’ve expected that question. I’ve been quiet throughout the nearly two-hour drive to Kimbolton, but it has nothing to do with my mother’s appearance at my flat this morning.
“She is the furthest thing from my mind.”
Annalise doesn’t look away, her stare indicating she’s waiting for further explanation.
“We’re going to the racetrack,” I say.
She nods. “You’ve told me that. What you haven’t explained is why going to the track where you raced for years is making you so nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
At this, she grins and rests her elbow onto the center console of my Amato luxury SUV in order to prop her chin into the palm of her hand to stare directly at me.
“That little wrinkle in your forehead says otherwise,” she sing-songs while pointing at it. “Do you believe you’re the only one who knows expressions?”
I glance over at her, grinning as I remember my words from last night.
“What other faces do you know?”
“Hm?” She cocks her head. “The open-mouthed smile you had on the podium this weekend while you sprayed the guys with champagne is one of my favorites.”
“One of? Not your favorite?”
She shakes her head. “You’re not smiling in my favorite look.”
“Do tell.”
Her smirk contains a little bit of devil and a hint of angel in it. If I weren’t driving, I’d lean over and cover her mouth with mine.
“You want to know my favorite look of yours?”
“I’m all ears.”
“After a race. You’re all sweaty, cheeks flushed red, your hair messy all while the fire of competition still burns in your eyes, turning them almost green instead of their normal hazel.”
I drag my gaze from the road to see her watching me as if she’s picturing me that way now.
“You also look like that after sex,” she adds. “But instead of fiery competition lighting your eyes, it’s …” She trails off.
Love. Want. Need.
“It’s what?” I want her to say it, to know that she sees it, feels it, too.
“Why are we going to Kimbolton?”
I bite back my regret at her lack of response.
“Meeting an old friend,” I answer instead of wading deeper into a conversation she’s clearly not ready for yet.
She lifts her brows in curiosity but doesn’t ask.
I’m grateful for that because I’m not quite ready to explain just yet either.
It’s a huge step that I’m even venturing out to the track I haven’t been to in almost five years.
Despite the positive memories I have of racing on this track, the one person I’ve avoided for far too long works there.
We pull into the car park twenty minutes later.
There’s already construction being built for this weekend’s race.
My heart pangs when I, for the first time in a long time, long to sit and be a spectator of a race.
My heart beats for the thrill of racing, of being the one behind the wheel during every corner, but it’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to sit and watch, admiring from a distance instead of inside of my car.
“Max?” a young attendee says, surprised as I enter the main entrance behind Annalise. “Max Ferreira?”
Smiling, I remove my sunglasses. “That’s me. And you are?”
He comes from behind the counter, eyes wide and hands animated. “Aw, man, it’s such a pleasure. An honor, really.” He gestures toward the wall of pictures.
I already know one of them is of me shaking hands with one of the owners of the track after my third consecutive win on the track.
I glance over to see the me from almost a decade ago, dressed in my blue and white racing suit, smiling at the camera.
A part of me is taken aback by how young and fresh-faced I look.
“That was the year you won your first championship.”
I look at Annalise, who’s staring at the picture on the wall, and squeeze her hand.
“That’s right,” the young employee agrees. “I was nine years old and watched that race with my dad. That was when I became a lifelong fan.”
I chuckle. “You’re still young.”
“But a fan for life,” he says admittedly. “Would you be willing to sign—”
“I highly doubt the illustrious Maxwell Ferreira is here to sign autographs,” a deep, familiar voice says from the back hallway of the building. The hallway that leads to the track’s garage.
I release Annalise’s hand and step around the young employee to come face to face with the man who I haven’t seen in three years. The same one I used to call my best friend.
Harry looks up at me from his wheelchair, his dark brown eyes unflinching, face neutral. “Why don’t you tell us all what you’re really here for?”
“That’s a warm welcome if I’ve ever heard one,” I reply.
A dark brow lifts. He cuts his gaze over my shoulder, his eyes narrowing when he spots Annalise.
“You look familiar.”
She comes up behind me, placing her chin against my arm, her hand going around my waist. I hadn’t thought much about the secrecy of our relationship until this moment.
All I thought about was bringing her with me to meet the man who was once my best friend. The one I abandoned after his accident.
My mind never went beyond what would happen if other people saw the two of us together … people who might make trouble if they opened their mouths and news of us being together got back to her brother before she’s ready to tell him.
That includes my mother.
Though I have no intention of speaking to her myself, I need to make it clear that she keeps her mouth shut about what she walked in on this morning.
“I’m told I have a familiar face,” Annalise says.
Harry shakes his head. “A woman as beautiful as you has a one-of-a-kind face. Nothing common about it at all.” For the first time, he grins.
“I like him,” she replies, a smile in her voice.
“That’s enough of that.”
Harry looks back to me, amusement lighting his eyes. “Well since you haven’t introduced us yet, I assumed it was up to me to do it.” He moves closer.
“Harry, this is Annalise.” I look down at Annalise, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “Babe, this is Harry Adams, my mate.”
“Friend who beat you in the 2015 and 2016 British Kart Championships. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry.”
Three heads swivel in Annalise’s direction.
I laugh because I should’ve known she would know who he was as soon as we walked in the door. There’s not much she doesn’t know when it comes to my sport.
“The pleasure belongs to me,” Harry says before looking over at me, his smile visibly cooling. “For you, I’m not so certain yet.”
My shoulders slump. “It’s been a while.”
Annalise steps out of my embrace, giving me the space.
“A while?” he huffs. “Did you forget how to count while over there at Amato?” He shakes his head. “No. Judging by your current standing on the grid this season, you know how to count just fine.”
“You’ve been watching this season?” That is a surprise.
He nods. “Proud of you for finally going where you belong.”
Words evade me.
“You’ve been missed,” he says, his tone conveying how genuine he is.
I step closer, squatting in front of his chair. “I’ve missed you and this place even more,” I tell him honestly.
“Been too long.”
I agree, but the lump in my throat stops words from saying more. Instead, I reach out and hug Harry for the first time in a long time. Relief floods me when he wraps his arms around my shoulders as well.
We remain in a hug for longer than I’d planned.
“Patrick volunteered to show me around the track. Apparently, there are some young future F1 hopefuls here today, practicing,” Annalise says, smiling at me before following the employee, whose name is apparently Patrick, out of the door.
I watch her through the windows as they round the building, headed toward the track.
“She’s smart.” Harry comes up beside me.
I nod, agreeing, knowing she left to give us time to be alone even though I hadn’t asked.
“She’s also your teammate’s sister, no?”
I peer down at him.
“Does he still hate you?”
“Probably,” I answer.
“Does he know about the two of you?”
“Not yet.”
Harry whistles. “I guess I can see why you’re having such a banger of a season.” He laughs when I give him a look. “Everyone sees it. Most suspect that things just clicked for you when you went over to Amato. Like it was your destiny.”
“You don’t?” I question.
He thrusts his head in the direction Annalise just went. “I think she had something to do with it.”
“Not my stellar talent?”
He chuckles. “Talent got you this far, but you’ve always held back. Got in your own way …” he pauses, “or allowed others to do it.”
I raise an eyebrow, and he stares me right in the eyes. Harry never made a secret about not liking many of my mates, especially Edwin. They had a falling out that I never found out the cause of. This was before Harry’s accident.
Then there was also the time he walked in on my mother when she was in the middle of one of her rants about me not being good enough. I was fifteen years old at the time.
“But who am I to judge?” He shrugs. “I had my own shite to figure out.” He drops his hands heavily onto the handles of his chair.
The guilt I’d managed to stave off until this moment crawls out of its hiding hole and fills my stomach, weighing me down.
“I never meant to go so long without seeing you,” I say. “It was—”
“My fault,” he cuts me off.
“That’s absurd,” I argue.
“It’s also true.” Harry glances over his shoulder. “I was just about to take a look at one of the karts out back. Come with me.” He cocks his head toward the garage. When the track isn’t in use for races, it’s used by patrons who want to give outdoor racing a try or private events.
The garage is just as I remember it. While the rest of the building and track grounds are always kept immaculate, the garage is the opposite. On either side along the walls are random car parts, at the center are three vehicles, two go-karts, and one sportbike.
“This is a beauty.” I stand over the blue and grey bike that’s clearly in the process of being built for a future race.
“Think so? Harry moves to the other side of the bike, his face lighting up as he gazes at it.