Chapter 35
Annalise
“What do you mean he can’t come?” I blurt without thinking.
My first instinct is to slap my hand across my mouth, but I know that would garner even more confusion from my brothers.
We’re on one of our three-way calls since Tristan had to return to the States briefly for one of the summer courses he TAs for.
He’ll be back next weekend for Lucky’s first birthday party.
The discussion about which is why both of my brothers are staring at me through their phone screens with curious looks.
“I said what I said,” Travis stubbornly reiterates.
“Don’t you think it’s a little immature to invite almost the entire Amato team to your son’s birthday party and not invite Max? How does that fare for team unity?”
“Screw team unity. You know I don’t like that motherfucker.”
“Don’t call him that,” I snap.
Shit.
More curious stares.
“Look, sis, I get you have a bleeding heart and all of that,” Travis says after a beat, “but you know how I feel about him.”
My stomach drops and I fight hard to keep my face neutral. We’re months into the season, Amato is at the top of grid in almost every marker that counts, including for the Constructors’ Championship, which they haven’t won in decades, and my brother is still being a hard ass on his dislike for Max.
Not to mention I’m in love with the guy.
I clear my throat at the same time I mentally push that thought away. Mostly because I don’t want it to show on my face. However, when I peek at Tristan, I don’t like the way his eyes are squinting in my direction.
Even less, I dislike how quiet he’s gotten. In general, Trist is the quietest out of all four of us. It’s usually because his brain is constantly going. But it also is what leads him to be uncannily observant. Way more than Travis.
“What if this is bigger than your personal feelings?” I argue.
“Trav, how would it look with literally every other important person on the Amato team at Lucky’s party but not Max?
You’ve even invited the alternates and F2 team for goodness’ sake, but not the other lead driver on your team? Come on.”
“He’s not a lead driver,” Travis snarls. “I’m the number one driver at Amato. He’s second at best.”
I swallow back the knee-jerk response to remind my brother that he currently lags behind Max in points on the grid.
If the season were to end today, Max would be awarded the championship.
There are still five and a half months left in the season, so nothing is guaranteed, but Max is having one hell of a season.
“You were my reason.”
His words whisper through my mind, warming me from the inside until it feels like my cheeks are glowing.
“That being what it is,” I say on a deep breath, “it’s not right, Travis, and you know it. What happened was seven years ago. And yes,” I raise my voice at the end to cut off his response, “it was messed up and terrible sportsmanship, but he, like you, was barely twenty years old when it happened.”
“You’re saying that like it’s the only reason I have not to like him. He’s resented me for years. Making snide comments in the press about me. You think I forgot about all of that? Have you forgotten about that?”
“No, of course not.”
It’s a battle not to ask my brother how much he would like it if his closest rival were the one constantly being named whenever our father’s name was mentioned. If the tables were revered and it was Max’s name brought up whenever our father’s legacy is mentioned instead of his.
The other night while watching old videos of Max’s races, I came across an interview of a sportscaster asking him what advice he thinks his father would give to Travis after he first signed with Amato. For a split second, I saw something cross Max’s eyes that broke my heart.
For a beat, the light in his gaze went out.
He’d covered it up and offered some words of encouragement for Travis, but I couldn’t get that look out of my head.
“What if things are different now?” I say instead of what’s really on my mind.
“No, things are different now,” I correct.
“He’s your teammate. Like it or not. And team morale is more important than your ego.
You’ve invited photographers there to take pictures specifically for that reason.
How will it look to the public if Max isn’t there? ”
“You think I’m going to make my son’s first birthday party into a public spectacle just to play nice with that motherfu—”
“No, Travis, and you know that’s not what I’m saying!”
Both of our voices rise.
“Whoa, let’s calm down, kids.”
“Fuck you, Tristan.”
“Screw you, Trist.”
Travis and I say in unison to our brother’s condescending ass. He rolls his eyes in response as if he’s bored. Tristan’s the most unflappable out of the three of us.
“Foul language aside, Annalise has a point,” he tells Travis.
“Thank you.”
“So does Travis,” he readily adds.
I glare at him, but he’s not affected by it at all.
“The real point is that this is an opportunity to bury the hatchet with your teammate. You don’t perform well when you’re in your feelings, Trav,” he continues. “With about half of the season left, it would do you some good to let that bitterness go.”
He points into the screen. “If you do invite him, make sure to keep your temper in check.”
He leans forward.
“Because if you fuck up my nephew’s first birthday party, I’ll kick your ass.”
I snicker because I know his threat is true. I’m pretty certain Tristan loves that little boy more than either one of us. And we’re his ride or dies.
Even Travis laughs.
“Whatever. I’ll think about it.”
I know that’s as good as it’s going to get for now, so I drop it.