4. Callum
I woke up to darkness. A painful kind that clung and made me realize I was missing something .
The throbbing in my head had dulled, but it wasn’t gone. A ghost of a migraine still pulsed at my temples, and my neck ached like hell. I groaned as I rolled onto my back, one arm thrown over my eyes to shield them from the dim hallway light I’d apparently forgotten to turn off.
Then I caught a whiff of something—lavender. Soft and sweet, florally with some herbal undertones.
Aurélie.
Her name shot through me like a jolt of adrenaline.
She’d been here. Not just in the dreamlike haze of my half-sleep.
She’d been here . I remembered the way she smelled, the way she’d said my name, the way she spoke in French until I fell into a deep slumber to the sound of her voice.
I remembered the weight of her hand on my chest. The feel of her lips on my forehead. The whisper of I’ll be back.
I turned my head. Her spot on the bed was empty, but her scent lingered, feeling like home and warmth and every comfort I’d ever known.
I blindly reached for my phone. The screen lit up like a damn nuclear reactor. I groaned at the sudden light, swiping my thumb on the screen so I could turn the brightness down.
347 unread texts. 217 DMs. Seemingly thousands of mentions. About my crash, the kiss before the race, the kiss before I was loaded into the ambulance. Aurélie in a dead sprint as she ran across the grass to get to me. The way I held her like she was the only thing tethering me to earth.
And then there were the clips and screenshots and tweets . She’d started a fucking revolution while I was passed out in bed.
I didn’t open social yet. I clicked into the group chat first.
Grid Gremlins
Me, Aurélie, Marco, Kimi
Because of course she’d kept the name she picked.
Marco
Okay what the FUCK is happening
Kimi
Auri why are you trending on my entire feed
You left Montreal less than 24 hours ago????
Marco
Like did you plan this?? What are you doing??
ARE YOU AT CALLUM'S AGAIN
Aurélie
FIA Regulation 3.6.2 Drivers may communicate with media unless otherwise instructed during official sessions. No regulation prevents a driver from offering personal statements post-race.
FIA Article 12.1.1(c) A breach is committed if a driver acts in a manner deemed prejudicial to the interests of motorsport. Not “is”. Deemed.
I’m talking.
About safety.
About the fact that a driver submitted evidence of sabotage and was ignored.
About the fact that no one listened until someone nearly died.
Wonder why.
Kimi
I’m not saying stop. I’m just saying holy fuck.
This is the most fun I've ever had in F1.
Marco
You KNEW this would blow up.
Aurélie
Not as much as it is, but I’m glad for it.
They weren’t ready for me to be loud. And they sure as fuck weren’t ready for me to be angry.
I've already been fined 50,000…
THANK GOD I got a fat signing bonus from Ferrari so I can buy my house :)
Kimi
HQ is gonna be pissed.
And you're completely unbothered.
You're an icon.
Aurélie
HQ already IS pissed. We’re just getting started.
I probably have a hundred missed calls and texts between Henric and the PR team alone.
Ivy's having a blast.
Marco… are you in Monaco or HQ?
Marco
Monaco. Why?
Aurélie
Did they give you your HQ schedule?
Marco
Nah, I’m remote this week. Callum too (obvi, that fucker is probably still sleeping). You know, unlike the Luminis Losers
Aurélie
Perfect. Do you know if his PT has been scheduled yet?
Also, his mum pretty much said the same thing about him hahaha. Says he's a "wee stubborn shit".
Marco
Uh, standby. I’ll check the physio chat.
Kimi
What are you planning
Wait, you've been talking to his mum and you're NOT dating??????
Aurélie
He's never asked me to be his girlfriend, so no, we're not dating.
Kimi
Ray he kissed you before the race…
Aurélie
He was just following French tradition.
Marco
Okay yeah, he’s starting tomorrow at 10am.
Aurélie
Can you get it moved to afternoons? Like 3-4pm daily? Until Austria.
Marco
… I mean, probably? Wait, why??
Kimi
RAY???
WHAT IS HAPPENING. EXPLAIN YOURSELF
Aurélie
Because I’m going to fly back to Monaco every day from Paris after my HQ obligations are done to check in on him. Prep meals. Organize things. Make sure he’s not a complete disaster.
But I can’t be distracted by him while he’s home.
So.
He needs to be gone.
Marco
You.
Are.
INSANE.
Kimi
You’re a legend.
Aurélie
He’s healing. I’m busy. He gets better, THEN he gets me. End of story.
Oh, and it's also a punishment for ghosting me after the race and then letting me stand outside his door sobbing as if I didn't just travel across the planet to make sure he was okay
Marco
HE DID WHAT?!
Aurélie
Ouais, he watched through the doorbell, didn't bother speaking to me through it or responding to me when I watched him text you back when we were at the hotel in Montreal.
So I picked his locks but there will be retribution and he will pay for being an idiot.
Kimi
CALLUM YOU'RE A FUCKING DOUCHE
Wait Dubois, how do you know how to pick locks??
Marco
You broke into his flat?
Aurélie
If either of you make me out to be a crazy woman, I WILL slam both of you on my interview with Pole Positioned. I go live in fifteen.
Marco
HUH? You're back in Paris already? HAVE YOU TELEPORTED?!
Aurélie
[link attached]
You can watch it live! I'll text you boys after.
I dropped the phone onto my chest, then grunted from the surge of pain.
Holy shit.
She broke into my flat. She talked to my mum somehow.
She was going to fly in every day from Paris just to make sure I was fed and upright and not a disaster .
She was re-scheduling my physical therapy.
She was punishing me—deliberately, methodically—for hurting her.
And she was doing it all while launching a fucking campaign to gut the FIA with her words.
God, I missed her.
I sat up slowly, flinching at the fading daylight bleeding in through the curtain crack. My ribs screamed. Everything else fucking ached . Didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the sudden, desperate need to see her. That was what ached the most.
She said she was going live in a studio in fifteen minutes. That was ten minutes ago, and the group chat had since gone silent.
I grabbed the remote off the nightstand, squinting against the glow of the TV as it powered on. The brightness pierced through my eyes like a knife, but I pushed through it, blinking until my vision adjusted, then I switched over to YouTube.
And there it was.
POLE POSITIONED: Live with Aurélie Dubois—F1's Rising Star
The thumbnail was her with a slick ponytail, bold red lips, and hypnotic hazel eyes tired but sharp enough to cut glass.
I let the loading wheel spin, heart pounding harder with every second. The feed hadn't started yet, but the desperation to see her nearly crushed me worse than my crash had. I pressed a hand over my heart.
She’d been here a handful of hours ago, whispering in French while I slept. Touching me with lavender-scented fingers, like I was fragile and hers all at once. Leaving behind this version of her—composed, gentle, breathtaking—for the cameras.
And now I got to watch the woman I loved walk into a studio and burn everything down with elegance.
Fuck , I loved her.
But I also hurt her. I knew I had. And I hadn’t even begun to make it right.
My head still pounding, I pushed myself to my feet, eyes snagging on my tidied nightstand. There was a tin with a note on the top. The handwriting was hers—slanted, feminine, and a little hurried. I picked it up and peeled the sticky note from the top.
We make this at home. It’s a family secret—but it helps. Rub gently on ribs, shoulders, neck. Twice a day, after a hot shower if you can. Don’t skip it. Let it soak in. Let me take care of you for once. I know you hate rest, but I need you whole.
– Your girl
My girl. God, I didn’t deserve her.
I held the paper to my chest and closed my eyes. She came back, and fuck me if I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to make sure she stayed.
I slowly padded into the kitchen, every step shooting arrows of pain through me, and stopped dead in my tracks. The place… was spotless. The counters gleamed, the dishes were gone, and even the air out here smelled faintly of lemon and lavender. Another sticky note, stuck to the fridge.
Eat & Rest
– Chicken & rice soup: 2 minutes, stir, 30 seconds more
– Pasta with lemon & parsley oil: Cold is fine, warm is better
– Protein smoothie is in the door. Drink it. No arguments.
PS: Drink water. Even if you're not thirsty. Especially then. Don't be an idiot.
Je t'aime.
–A
My hand shook as I reached for the fridge handle. A smoothie sat just inside the door just as she'd written, and three stacked containers of food were on the shelves.
I’d been asleep, healing. And in that time, Aurélie had launched a war, taken care of me like it was second nature, and still found time to talk to my mother .
I opened my messages and scrolled to the most recent thread with Mum.
She’d sent a thumbs up, a heart, and two texts.
Mum
You better make that French girl your wife.
And tell her I said hi.
I didn’t reply, just stared at the screen with my heart in my throat, because I already knew the second she broke into my flat, she was mine . I'd known it for a long time, but this was next-level devotion that I would never take for granted again.
The word wife ricocheted in my brain, bringing with it the ghost of that nightmare I couldn’t shake—her in white, a veil framing her face, stepping onto the track.
The screech of tires, waking with my heart clawing against my ribs, convinced I’d lost her before I’d even had the chance to make it official.
Except now the image was different. Still her in white and wearing a veil, but this time it was me standing beside her. My hand in hers. No brakes, no screech, no fear—just forever. And suddenly, it was all so fucking clear.
Swiping the smoothie from the door, I headed back to the bedroom, only to pause by the guest room. The bathroom light was left on, and when I went in there, I found another note. It was like an Easter egg hunt that had my heart flipping with excitement.
Remember the last time we showered in here?
XO
I groaned, my voice hoarse. Because of course I remembered worshipping at her feet and coming all over her pretty pink toenails after I ate her out.
Fuck.
Nope, I couldn't think about this right now. It had been almost a month since we'd had sex, and I was about two seconds from telling my PR team to fuck off.
Maybe I should.
After all, she was going on her own crusade. I could support her…
Just as both my brain and my dick started to throb, I heard the sound of a live audience clapping, filtering down the hallway.
I moved as quickly as I could, smoothie and sticky notes in hand, and made it to the bedroom just as Ava Richards—the founder of the advocacy platform Pole Positioned—started speaking.