CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CLARKE AND CECI
Chapter Twenty-Three
Clarke and Ceci
Clarke
Race Engineer: Your ass is looking good, Clarke.
Clarke: It must be, because that fucker’s been up it the entire race.
Even though they’d gone on several dates since that first one in Austin, Clarke couldn’t stop thinking of what it had felt like holding Ceci in his arms and kissing her.
And he hadn’t forgotten what it felt like when she’d put her hands on his ass.
Clarke didn’t consider himself a vain man, but he’d meant it when he’d told Ceci he had a fine ass.
He knew it. She knew it. Unfortunately, it appeared Anker knew it too.
Race Engineer: I know he’s been putting pressure on you.
Clarke: Pressure? Is that what you call it? The guy’s had his nose up my tailpipe the entire race.
Race Engineer: Just hold steady. You’ve held him off this long and we’re coming to the final lap. I know you had to manage some tire wear early in the race, but everything’s looking good now. Balance feel good?
Clarke: Yeah.
If he couldn’t find balance in his life, at least he could find it on the track.
The rain started up again, but it was only a light drizzle.
He’d been doing progressively better since Austin. He’d made the podium in the past two races, although he had yet to come in first.
Had he recaptured that fearless driver Ceci spoke of? No. He might never get him back. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t put himself at the top of the leaderboard and in contention for the trophy.
Knowing what he did on that final turn, and knowing why he did it, wasn’t enough.
It was the guilt that held him back. He’d never be rid of it, but if he found a way to live with it, maybe he’d rid himself of what that guilt turned into when he got behind the wheel—a heavy chain that bound him, like that iron mask.
A chain that bore the inscription, you don’t deserve to win.
Telling Ceci about Naomi and Niles was a beginning. Why, he couldn’t say. But he could feel it in his bones.
He was getting close. Finally, here in Barcelona he’d started a race where he belonged—in pole position, on the front row of the grid, with Anker just behind him. But damn if he wasn’t having a devil of a time keeping him there.
Clarke: Here he is again.
Anker had slipped outside to Clarke’s right. The two cars were side by side on the straightaway. The sliver of space between them was so thin, that minute pocket of air shook the car and Clarke to his core.
Clarke: He’s got more power on the straights. Is he going to pass me?
Even now, Clarke couldn’t tell which of them was out in front. It was that close.
Race Engineer: Here comes the corner up ahead. You’ve got this.
Ceci
Shit, they were coming to the turn now. Ceci had been hoping Anker might catch him on the straight.
But Sir Stick held him off. Anker kept attacking, looking for any chance to dive in on the inside at a corner or take him by surprise on the outside.
But Clarke’s taut maneuvering kept Anker behind him.
And there it was again on the turn. But would Clarke be able to maintain this level of performance on the final turn?
Something had changed. His performance had improved on the track. He’d made the podium in the past couple of races.
She thought about that date in Austin. So much had happened, and even though they’d been on four additional dates since then, neither one of them had said a word about any of it.
Not the kiss outside the bar, her asking him to come to her father’s house, his coming, or driving over an hour to take her karting.
Nothing about what he’d told her about Naomi and Niles.
And nothing about how they’d ended things—what he’d said and that slap.
There were moments when she thought she might say something, or he might, but then chaos ensued and the date went off the rails.
She thought about Naomi and Niles. Had he been carrying all of that in the car with him?
Did that explain why he was no longer that fearless driver?
Is it possible his confession to her had released some of the guilt that had been holding him back?
She knew what guilt could do. She’d carried the weight of her mother’s and brother’s deaths on her shoulders her entire life.
Ceci shook her head at the sound of Anker’s voice on the radio. She shouldn’t be thinking about any of this now.
Anker: I can’t get past this guy. Not on the inside. Not on the outside. Even with the DRS. He keeps out-braking me on the long straights.
Race Engineer: Just stay close. We’re in the final lap. You can make a move on the final chicane. And if that doesn’t work, there’s that long stretch of straight near the very end. You’ve got more power than he does; it’ll be real difficult for him to hold you off there.
Clarke
Clarke: Damn it! I don’t know if I can hold him off.
Anker was beside him again. Clarke didn’t need to look. He could feel him. And they were approaching the final turn.