Chapter Twenty-Two #2
I tried to open the door, needing air, needing escape.
But Lily’s hand caught my arm.
“Henri, look at me.”
I couldn’t. My eyes were wide and unfocused, seeing rain and barriers and Miami.
“I can’t—” I started. “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m failing.”
“No.” Her voice came out fierce. “You’re not failing. You’re scared, and that’s okay.”
Her hand stayed on my arm. I could feel my pulse hammering beneath the surface.
“Look at me,” she repeated, softer. “Not the track. Not the rain. Just me.”
With enormous effort, I forced my eyes to focus on her face. On the genuine concern there, the complete absence of judgment.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know what’s… I used to be able to do this.”
“Stop. There’s nothing to apologize for. But I need you to breathe with me. In for four, hold for four, out for four.” We breathed together, her voice counting steadily. My eyes locked on hers like she was the only thing keeping me tethered.
Gradually, my breathing evened out. The shaking subsided to something manageable.
“Remember, focus on the rhythm of the corners,” she said quietly. “Trust the car. Trust yourself.” A faint laugh escaped me, the weight lifting slightly.
“You don’t have to finish this,” Lily said, hand still on my arm. “We can walk away right now. I won’t think any differently of you.”
I started to chew the inside of my mouth, and for a moment I considered taking the easy out.
Instead I let out a shaky breath. “I want to finish.”
“Wanting to and being ready to are different things.”
“I know.” I looked at her properly. “But I need to try. I just need a minute.”
The rain continued its assault, creating strange intimacy in our tiny car.
“It just feels so much like Miami,” I started, voice rough, “and Barcelona.” My thumb traced an absent pattern on the wheel.
“I’m going to finish,” I said finally, voice steadier. “Not for them, or for pride. But for me. I need to know I still can.”
“You’re sure?”
“No.” The laugh was short and sharp. “But I’m doing it anyway.”
“Okay. Then we’re doing this together. Talk to me through every corner. Out loud.”
My eyebrows lifted. “You want commentary?”
“I want your brain engaged instead of spiraling. So, yes, talk.”
I reached for the gearshift, paused, then looked at her. Really looked at her, dropping defenses enough to let her see the vulnerability.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For walking me through that.”
“Just remember, you’re not broken, Henri.” She squeezed my arm. “I believe you can do this.”
The smile that earned was small but genuine.
“Ready?” she asked.
No. Not even close.
I pulled back onto the track and immediately started narrating.
“Approaching Turn 3, braking late, letting it rotate.” My voice wavered but held. “Rear’s stepping out, catching it, powering through.”
“Perfect. Keep going.”
We carved through the remaining laps, my voice growing stronger with each corner completed. The panic hadn’t vanished, but talking helped. Lily’s presence helped. When we finally crossed the line in second place, my laugh was equal parts relief and disbelief.
“We did it,” I breathed.
“You did it,” Lily corrected.
I didn’t think, just reached over and pulled her into a hug, her forehead pressing against my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I whispered against her hair.
We both hopped out of the car, and my friends descended with whoops and a ridiculous plastic trophy that read “Second Place Loser” in glittery letters.
“About time you two stopped making out and finished the race!” éliott shouted.
Heat flooded my face. “We were not—”
But they’d already moved on.
Eventually, as the sun descended and the celebrations wound down, the rain reduced to drizzle. I found my jacket and draped it over Lily’s shoulders without thinking.
She smiled at me, soft and dangerously close to something more than friendly, and we walked slowly back to our car, alone now in the gathering dusk.
“I know we didn’t win, but that felt like winning,” I said, stopping beside the Beetle.
“Second place is still a podium. Though maybe ‘winning’ isn’t the right word.”
“Well, you would know,” I said with deliberate lightness.
She smacked my shoulder, laughing.
“Non,” I clarified, my accent thickening. “I don’t mean the race. I mean being able to drive this car in the rain…” I paused. “That felt like winning something that matters more than any trophy.”
We stood in comfortable silence, rain droplets on my eyelashes, distant laughter fading.
“Henri,” Lily started, then she stopped.
I looked down at her, and something in her expression made my heart skip. Something warm and open and utterly honest.
“Lily, I—”
But I didn’t get to finish.
She stepped closer, until she was in my space in a way that made my breath catch. Made the world narrow to just the two of us and the rain-soft air between us.
Her eyes met mine, searching for something. Permission, maybe? Proof that I wanted this too? I didn’t move away. Couldn’t have, even if I’d wanted to.
Then she kissed me.
Soft and certain and everything I hadn’t let myself imagine. Her hand came up to my jaw, and I forgot how to breathe; forgot everything except the warmth of her mouth and the rain on our skin and the way she fit perfectly against me.
And every coherent thought I had dissolved completely. My promise from Austria of leaving her alone had now all but vanished from sight.