Chapter 96 Callum
callum
I didn’t have to speak for him to try to fix it. That was the kind of love he gave me—quiet, certain, and stronger than the silence I’d learned to sit in. – Aurelie
Aurélie laughed. She danced. She toasted her name.
And still, something was wrong. I’d been around her long enough now to recognize the signs.
The tension in her shoulders when no one was looking. The way her smile tightened at the corners like she had to hold it in place. How she leaned into me like she needed something warm before pulling away like she didn’t deserve it.
It wasn’t the champagne, or the lights, or the crowd, or even the pressure of the win. It was something deeper—that much was obvious after the comments she’d made earlier.
And I wasn’t letting it simmer for another second.
“Come with me,” I said quietly, leaning in to brush my lips near her temple.
She blinked. “What?”
“I just need you for a second.” I didn’t wait, taking her hand and leading her through the crowd, my fingers tight around hers, worried that if I let go, she’d vanish into the noise.
We ducked through the velvet curtain behind the DJ booth, down a dark hallway that muffled the music. It was quiet here. Still pulsing faintly through the walls, but she couldn’t hide in the strobe anymore.
She crossed her arms as I turned to face her. “Callum… what are we doing?”
“You tell me.” I mirrored her pose and waited.
“You’re being weird.”
“So are you.” And there it was. A flicker of something—hurt, guilt, maybe both—in her eyes.
So I stepped closer and dropped my voice. “Something’s bothering you. And I’m not letting this night go on until you tell me what it is.”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Her voice cracked like glass under pressure.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Seriously, I just needed a second. It’s been a long day—”
“No,” I said. “You don’t get to lie to me. Not now. I can see it in your eyes.”
Her jaw flexed. Her arms tightened. “I’m not trying to ruin the night, Callum.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek. “But I know what it looks like when you’re pretending to be okay. And that’s what you’re doing right now.”
She let out a breath, shaky and uneven. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s stupid.”
“I don’t care.” We could do this back and forth for days, but I’d stay right here until she told me.
“I didn’t mean to get weird. It’s just…” She swallowed, blinking too fast. “This is just how women are. Moody. Overdramatic.”
My heart splintered. This self-sabotage killed me. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make yourself smaller, Aurélie. Don’t fucking apologize for feeling something.”
“I’m not feeling anything,” she said quickly—too quickly. Her eyes shimmered, but she blinked it away and sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m just tired. That’s all.”
I sighed and tipped my head back to look at the ceiling. You know what? Fuck it. “Dammit, Aurélie. You can lie all you fucking want but it doesn’t change the fact that I see right through you. And you—I pointed at her—are lying to both of us and it pisses me off.”
“I don’t want to be the girl who wins and then breaks down,” she snapped. “I don’t want to be fragile. I can’t be. People are watching me, and the second I’m not perfect—” Her voice broke.
I stepped in, hands cupping her jaw. “You are allowed to not be perfect.”
Her lips wobbled. “No, I’m not.”
“Who told you that?”
“My fucking family,” she bit out. “Everyone in this fucking sport. You smile. You stay poised. You say the right things. You don’t cry. You don’t get angry. You don’t make it about you.”
The words spilled like a dam had broken, and all I could do was hold her steady while she unraveled.
“I had to work twice as hard to be taken seriously. I had to stay quiet when the media asked if I even belonged here. I had to smile at my fucking ex when he showed up in the paddock. Then he touched me without permission just when I was—merde, I don’t know.
And now—” She choked and turned away as if even this confession had been too much.
Now she was retreating. I knew the signs, and I wasn’t letting her disappear.
“Hey,” I said, reaching for her. “Look at me.” She did. Barely. Her eyes were glassy. Her mascara was smudged. And still, she was the most fucking beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “You went through something traumatic today, love.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t argue with me. Someone violated you. Someone you used to trust. He touched you and tried to force himself on you. That’s not drama. That’s not overreacting. That’s not French. That’s fucking real and raw and painful.”
Her chest heaved. “But I made it weird. I—I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” I reached for her hands and brought them to my chest. “You are allowed to be shaken. You are allowed to need someone. And you’re allowed to need me.
You have had a long day. Hell, a long week.
You had to process seeing your ex. Had to cope with the trauma from your family.
You’re actively fighting systemic sexism that no one else is addressing.
You made history today and won your first race.
And everything that’s come after that. You. Are. Allowed. To. Feel.”
She looked up at me then. Truly looked. And I saw it. Not just the fear… but the shame.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I know that this part—us—is silly. I know you love me. Santino… he said I fuck like a pornstar. But when Marco said that thing about the kiss, and then Kimi said that thing—pain and poetry—it just… it hit me wrong. Made me feel like all I’m good for is sex.”
My stomach sank.
“You’ve said such beautiful things to me. You’ve made me feel worshipped. Desired. Like I’m unforgettable. But I guess part of me wondered… if you’ve done it before. If I’m just—”
“No.” I couldn’t let her feel this way. Fuck, it killed me to think this was how she felt when, earlier, all I could think about was everything I wanted with her. But it came out hard. I softened instantly. “No, Aurélie. Don’t even finish that sentence.”
She blinked, eyes brimming now. But she didn’t look away.
“You are not just anyone,” I said fiercely. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever fallen for. And if you think anything I’ve said to you came from some old playbook, then you don’t know how utterly wrecked I am for you.”
Her lips parted. She hiccuped on a sob, and then she collapsed forward into my arms.
I caught her, held her, let her breathe. And after a long moment, I whispered against her hair, “Come on.”
She didn’t move. “Where are we going?”
I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “To remind you who you really are.”
I was going to show her exactly what it meant to be loved without condition.