Page 37 of Tipping Point

“The burn?” I ask.

Felix’s eyes swivel to my face and his eyes are no longer guarded, rather more curious.

“You’ve seen it?”

I nod. “But it’s not…it’s not what you think.” I feel a blush bloom up my neck.

Felix laughs.

“Well, he had multiple fractures, a concussion. About six months of rehabilitation before he could drive again. But he couldn’t shake it.”

“The fear?” I ask.

“The guilt.”

I frown. “It was an accident.”

“Yes,” Felix says kindly. “But it was one that destroyed a small family forever. The press tore him to shreds for it, and afterwards they said he lost his nerve. But I don’t think he’s afraid to drive.”

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s afraid that if he takes a risk, it will have been the wrong choice. Better to not take any risks at all.”

7

Chapter 7

FINN

“It’s long straights!” Jack raises his voice to make himself heard above the din of the engines. We’re making our way towards the car. I’m P nine. Qualifying went well yesterday, and the crew was ecstatic.

“I’ve been racing this track for my entire Grande Prima career.” I pull the fire-resistant balaclava over my head. “I know.”

Jack’s not being pedantic. He’s just nervous. Jack never knew me when I raced for Velocity Racing, for Felix. He doesn’t know how I used to drive. This new style is making him nervous. Well, old style. Ever since I signed the documents, after learning that my contract won’t be renewed, I’ve been driving like this, like I used to. I’ve done what I set out to do, and now, with the papers signed, sealed, and ready to be delivered, I feel almost free, like the hold the past has on me has lessened.

“It’s a very abrasive surface,” Jack continues, jarring me back to reality. “We’re doing a two-stop strategy.”

I sigh and climb over the side of the car, lowering myself into the seat.

“Conserve the power unit for the straights!” Cars are revving around us, drowning out his voice.

Before he can say anything else, I shout back, “I know, Jack!”

He checks the harness as I run through my ritual of touching the buttons.

I pull on the helmet and he raps it twice with his knuckles before hurrying away.

The countdown, as always, takes my breath away. I spend all my time gearing up for this moment, and every time we’re here, it feels like I have hardly any time at all to prepare.

When the green lights come on we’re away. I am accelerating with reckless abandon.

Erik cautions me over comms. He isn’t used to doing that.

The trick is to not think at all.

Since Monaco I have spent extra hours in the hotel gyms, running, pushing, pulling, lifting. I have a weekly session with the Delta Victor trainer, who does reflex training with me and Reuben, and serious neck and shoulder exercises.

And yet I could not unlock my jaw or relax my shoulders since Camille looked at me that way.

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