Now #4
“Good Job, Jax,” Elliot says in my ear. “You have about fifteen laps left before you’ll need new tires. Do your best to increase your lead until then.”
“Copy that.”
Now, the cars ahead of me are the backmarkers. But because I’ve lapped them, they’re expected to let me through quickly or risk receiving a penalty. They have three blue flags to do so, but they often comply within the first two.
The Ferrari stays close, knowing that if he lets me take off, he’ll never catch up. His presence, less than a second behind me, pushes me to be the best driver I can, so I welcome it at first. Until it becomes a concern.
The red car refuses to let go.
Lap after lap, it stays close enough to threaten an overtake every time we reach a straight. His tires should degrade faster than mine since he went for the medium compound while I have the hard, but he’s managing them well.
“Gap behind six tenths,” Elliot warns.
“I know.”
We catch up to more backmarkers near the next sector, and I immediately start planning around them.
This can be how I lose the Ferrari. Or how it passes me if I’m not careful.
The first lapped car complies with the blue flags almost instantly and moves aside.
The second one reacts slower, lingering on the racing line just enough to become a problem.
The Ferrari driver sees an opportunity. He dives to the inside aggressively, trying to use the confusion to pull alongside me before the corner.
I move right immediately to defend, forcing him tighter than he expected.
Usually, this is where the other driver backs out.
Especially against me. They know I won’t hesitate to hold my line.
But he keeps coming anyway.
“Still there,” Elliot says in my ear.
I can see the Ferrari in my mirrors, front wing nearly level with my rear tire as we approach the braking zone. We’re both going too fast now. One of us needs to yield before the corner.
Usually, I’d trust myself to make it stick. I’d force the issue and expect the other driver to preserve their car before their pride.
But then Evie flashes through my mind. The thought of her waiting for me after the race. Her smile when I showed her around. The way she looked at me after that very public kiss.
And for the first time in years, I hesitate.
It’s barely anything. A fraction of a second. Just enough to make me second-guess how aggressively I want to close the door on the Ferrari.
That tiny moment is all it takes.
I brake slightly later while trying to leave him more room than I normally would, and my right tires drift over the edge of the track. The grip disappears instantly. The rear snaps loose, violent and sudden, and before I can properly correct it, the Ferrari clips my sidepod.
“Fuck!”
The impact sends my car sideways. Gravel sprays everywhere as I fight the steering wheel, trying to recover it before it reaches the barrier, but the tires are completely gone now. I’m just a passenger at this point.
Knowing better than to hold on and hurt myself, I let go of the wheel right before the wall slams into my left side, hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
Something breaks underneath the car with a horrible crunch, and then I bounce off the barrier before stopping awkwardly in the runoff area, smoke already rising from the back of the car.
For a second, I just sit there gripping the wheel, ears ringing.
“Jackson? Jackson, radio check!”
The engine cuts out completely beneath me. The Ferrari keeps going.
Race over.
I suck in a sharp breath and force myself to move. My shoulder throbs from the belts, but everything else seems functional enough. No blood pouring down my face this time. No blurriness. No panic.
Just the sick realization settling heavily in my chest.
“Evie, I’m okay,” I rush to say, remembering that she can hear me. She just saw everything from the screens in the garage and must be panicking and having flashbacks.
“I’m alright, princess. I’m not hurt,” I continue as a marshal rushes toward me while another waves a yellow flag.
I unclip my headrest before setting it between the car and the wall and unbuckle my seatbelt. Once the steering wheel is detached, I get out of the car, using the halo to lift myself.
“Can someone confirm that Evie heard me?” I demand, following the marshal to safety.
We’re at the opening in the barrier when Elliot says, “She heard you. Justine just took her out on the paddock. Good to know you’re alright, Jax.”
Once we’re in position behind the barrier, I watch the cars pass by. Mine is far enough from the track that the virtual safety car is enough.
As I see all the cars that I passed rush on the other side of the barrier, I can’t help but blame myself for the stupid mistake. It’s been three years since I last had to retire from a race because I messed up.
Three months ago, I would’ve committed to that corner without thinking twice. I would’ve trusted my instincts and expected the Ferrari driver to move.
This time, I hesitated.
Because now, for the first time in eight years, there’s someone waiting for me outside the track. And she matters so much more than winning.