Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
GRIFFIN
The car snapped sideways, the rear stepping out violently, and before I could catch it, the sim jolted hard. The wheel wrenched in my grip, the force feedback nearly yanking it from my hands as the massive screens in front of me flickered black.
“Bollocks!” My voice echoed through the dimly lit room, raw with frustration.
I flexed my fingers as the platform beneath me settled while Al, my race engineer, didn’t so much as blink.
He just stared at me from his spot behind the bank of monitors, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Like I was an engine misfiring and he was two seconds away from pulling me apart to figure out what went wrong.
“You’ve got eleven days until Austin,” he said. “And you’re driving like you’ve never seen a braking marker before.”
I rolled out my wrists, shaking out the tension in my knuckles. “It’s a long season. You ever think maybe I’m just running a little low on adrenaline?”
His brow furrowed. “That’s like saying the sun’s taking the day off.”
I sighed, leaning back in the seat. The rig’s cockpit was damn near identical to the real thing. It had the same seating position, same controls, same brutal realism. And yet, no matter how much data it spat out, it couldn’t fix whatever was wrong in my head.
“Look, it’s a rough patch. Every driver has one.”
I never hit rough patches.
Bad sessions? Sure. A tough quali? Maybe. But three straight days of overdriving, missing braking points, and locking up in a simulator? That wasn’t a bad run. That was an issue.
And it started the moment Violet told me our night together was a mistake.
Four words. That’s all it took to scramble my head.
I’d woken up with her pressed against me, her body warm and soft, her scent filling my nose. And for a moment, I’d let myself believe that maybe the pull I felt toward her existed for a reason.
Maybe we were meant to be.
I never believed in fate. Never thought the universe gave a shit about things like “meant to be.”
My life had been built on choices. Mine, my father’s, my team’s. You win because you take the win, not because it was written in the stars.
What were the odds that a baby would be dropped on my doorstep and the one woman able to help me navigate it would be perfect for me?
The one woman who didn’t give a shit about who I was on a podium. The one woman who saw me beyond the cameras, the sponsorship deals, the race results.
The one woman I’d wanted before I even knew why.
It was too perfect.
Only fate hadn’t covered all its bases. Because she didn’t want me.
The one time I wasn’t looking for something temporary. The one time I wasn’t just in it for the chase. The one time I actually gave a shit.
And I was being left behind.
“Sure.” Al rocked back on his heels, pretending for half a second that he was buying it. “Tell me, when was the last time you had a ‘rough patch’ that lasted three straight days?”
I let my head drop back against the rig, staring at the ceiling. No answers there, either.
Al sighed, stepping closer. “I don’t need you sharp next week. I need you sharp now. You think the others are taking a breather just because Singapore’s behind us?”
I knew they weren’t.
I forced out a slow breath. “I’ll be sharp by Austin.”
Al nodded, but he didn’t look satisfied. “That’s a deadline, not a solution.”
The weights hit the rubber mat with a dull thud, the barbell bouncing once before settling.
I braced my hands on my knees, breath coming fast, arms burning, sweat running down my spine. Every muscle screamed, but my head was louder.
The gym smelled like rubber and metal, the faint scent of chalk in the air. The steady rhythm of weights clanking against the racks, the low hum of the air conditioning, but none of it could drown out the static in my head.
Didn’t matter how hard I trained, I couldn’t clear it.
A slow clap started behind me.
“That was painful to watch,” Liam said, approaching me. “What’s next? You gonna stare longingly into the distance while sad music plays?”
I groaned, straightening up. “Don’t you have some rookie to yell at?”
“You’re my priority.” He stopped a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. “And right now, my priority looks like shit.”
I dragged the towel over my face.
He didn’t take the hint. “You’re not pushing your limits. You’re driving yourself into the ground.”
I grabbed my water bottle and took a long swig before answering. “Same thing.”
“No,” he said, his tone sharpening. “It’s not.”
I clenched my jaw, staring at the weight rack.
“Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You’re kidding yourself.”
I took a deep drink of water and refused to make eye contact.
“You’ve been in the gym every morning before sunrise.
You’re on the sim until midnight. You haven’t let your body or your brain recover since Singapore, and it’s showing.
” Liam gestured at me, frustration bleeding into his voice.
“You want to know what I see? A driver who’s overworked, overtired, and so deep in his own head that he’s screwing himself over before he even gets to Austin. ”
My fingers twitched around the water bottle.
“And another thing.” Liam crossed his arms. “Why the hell are you even here?”
I frowned. “What?”
“You have a gym at home. A perfectly equipped, private gym that I have personally designed to make your life easier. And yet, for the past three days, you’ve been dragging your ass here.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Why?”
I rolled out my shoulders, keeping my expression blank. “Needed a change of scenery.”
“Bullshit.”
“Christ, Liam—”
“No.” He stepped closer. “What’s going on with Violet?”
I wiped my face with the towel, forcing my voice level. “Nothing.”
“That is more believable if you don’t sound like you’re lying through your teeth.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Talk to me, man.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
He gave me a look. “So, she’s not why you’re throwing yourself at the sim for hours, sweating your ass off in here, and trying to outwork a problem that has nothing to do with your training?”
I rubbed a hand down my face. “Jesus.”
“Griff.”
I didn’t want to talk about it.
Didn’t want to admit that home didn’t feel like home anymore.
That walking through the door meant pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. That I’d let myself believe something could be different, that she felt it too, only for her to shut it down like it was nothing.
That I couldn’t even fucking look at her without wanting more.
That maybe I’d been stupid enough to think she wanted more.
My grip tightened on the towel. “I need the win.”
Liam slowly nodded. “Yeah. You do. But you’re breaking yourself before the race even starts. If you go into Austin like this, you won’t get it.”
I looked up. “I don’t have a choice.”
His eyes narrowed. “Says who?”
I swallowed, my jaw ticking.
Julian.
Aedris.
The fucking team that kept putting me second.
I flexed my fingers, rolling my wrists, but the tension stayed locked in my muscles. In my chest. In my goddamn skull.
Liam stared at me, waiting.
“I can’t let Callaghan win again.”
His brows rose. “That what this is about?”
I shrugged. “It’s part of it.”
He hummed. “And the other part?”
“I need the win.”
“Already covered that.” He cocked his head. “Try again.”
I downed half the bottle, wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. “I need to beat Callaghan.”
“Uh-huh.” His eyes narrowed. “And how do you feel about Stefano?”
My grip tightened around the bottle. “Why would I feel any kind of way about Stefano?”
Liam’s lips pressed together like he was holding back a laugh. “You tell me, mate. It’s not like they made you move over for him when you were trying to take P1 from Callaghan or anything.”
I forced out a short, humorless chuckle. “It was team orders.”
“Oh, sure,” he said, nodding, mock-serious. “Completely logical. Best for the team. Can’t imagine why that might sit weird with you.”
I rolled my shoulders, shoving the irritation down. “I don’t care.”
“That’s funny.” His eyes gleamed. “Because the press and the fans sure as hell did. Socials were a mess. They’re still talking about it.”
“They always do.”
He snorted. “Not like this. You didn’t just lose a race, Griff. They took it from you. And the entire world saw it.” He shifted his weight, watching me. “That’s a great position to be in when you’re shopping for a seat.”
I froze. My gaze found his so fast, I’d have a job convincing him he was hearing typical rumors.
“I mean, if a driver hypothetically was thinking about leaving his team, this would be a pretty ideal time, wouldn’t it?”
I eyed him. “Hypothetically.”
Liam nodded, his expression shifting to something more serious. “So where are we at?”
My jaw ticked. “Three teams interested. Two of them serious.”
“Balbec?”
“And Rekford.”
His brows rose. “Thought they were locked in with their lineup.”
“They were. Until Nico started murmuring about retirement.”
Liam’s eyes widened. “Wait. What?”
I leaned back against the weight rack. “You heard me.”
He stared at me. “We just spent half the morning cycling with him in Singapore and he said nothing about retiring.”
I shrugged. “Keeping it close to the vest, I guess.”
“Christ. When’s the announcement?”
“End of season.”
“So that seat’s yours.”
“Maybe. Depends on timing.” I grabbed my water bottle. “Balbec’s cleaner. Less politics, better management.”
“But?”
“Rekford’s faster.”
He nodded slowly, processing. “When does Dominic need your decision?”
“By Brazil.”
“That’s tight.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, whenever that hypothetical change happens,” he said, his brows dancing. “Remember to take your favorite trainer with you.”
He grinned and my traitorous lips followed suit.
Liam wandered over to the dumbbells, grabbing a heavy pair. He settled into a set of overhead presses, entirely unbothered.