Page 59 of Formula Chance

“What I do know is that you fucked it up, and there’s a question of integrity in your strategy since you’ve got a relationship with a driver. I’m going to have to talk to Luca, but my recommendation is that we dismiss you.”

“Now wait a minute,” Nash tries to intervene.

Hendrik rounds on him with a glare. “You stay out of it. It has nothing to do with you.”

Nash’s lips press into a flat line, and he holds his tongue, for which I’m grateful. Any interference by him is only going to make me look bad. I’ve got to salvage this myself. “Hendrik… I made a call that many other race strategists would have made. You take calculated risks to move people up. The timing didn’t work out and we failed, but you can’t judge my abilities on that one call.”

“Can’t I?” he replies ominously.

“If you did, it wouldn’t be fair.”

Hendrik leans toward me, his voice stone-cold. “There’s nothing fair about racing. It’s only about the win. And you lost here today.”

A wave of anxiety hits me so hard, my knees wobble. In a flash, I see my entire career disintegrate. Hendrik turns and storms off, barking orders at the mechanics that send them scrambling away from his wrath.

“Look,” Nash says, touching my wrist, but I pull it away. People are still watching. “I’ve got to get into the post-race interview and the podium ceremony will be soon. Are you okay?”

It’s a struggle but I keep my voice steady. “Yeah, I’m fine. Hendrik’s just getting his anger out. He’ll calm down.”

Nash’s expression says everything. This issue isn’t over and it’s going to get worse.

“We’ll talk about it tonight after dinner with my parents,” he says, and then before I can stop him, he leans in to kiss me on the cheek. “And I don’t give a fuck who saw that.”

Shit. I forgot that Nash’s parents flew in for the race. I haven’t seen them yet as I haven’t had any spare time between practice rounds, qualifying and the race. I’ve barely even slept. They were in the VIP suite for the race and Nash had invited me to join them for dinner tonight as they’re flying home to the States tomorrow while we head back to Guildford.

“Sinclair!” Alex yells and we look his way. “Get your ass over here. They’re ready for your interview.”

Nash squeezes my shoulder. “Got to go. See you at the podium ceremony.”

“Of course.” I throw a thumb over my shoulder back at our pit wall stations. “I’m going to shut down my stuff.”

Nash grins and rushes away, and I take the moment to shake off my despair over my failure with Matthieu to be happy for Nash’s success. His dreams are coming true.

CHAPTER 20

Nash

Iknock softlyon Bex’s hotel door and take a step back so she can see me in the peephole. It takes her a minute but the door swings open and I’m surprised to see her in a pair of yoga pants and a ratty Rolling Stones T-shirt. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, and her face is clean of makeup.

Last time I saw her was at the podium ceremony a few hours ago. She stood at the back fringes of the entire Titans Racing crew, staring up at me as I stood on the elevated, third place platform. She smiled, cheered, clapped and whistled along with all the others when I was handed the trophy. Her beaming countenance made it all that more special, but I lost sight of her as I got pulled into the champagne portion of the ceremony—me, Lex and Carlos spraying each other with fizzy. I had wiped it from my eyes, looked down into the crowd, and she was gone.

“You’re not going to dinner,” I surmise, following her into the room as she pads barefoot across the thick carpet. The bed I’d been in with her just this morning has been neatly made and I doubt I’ll be in it tonight. I’ll hang with my parents until late and then we’ve got an early flight in the morning.

Bex’s laptop is open on the desk and she sits down, turning her back on me. “I really can’t go. I’m reviewing all the—”

I put my hand over the screen, blocking her vision of the data streams. “You can do that tomorrow, or the next day. We have two weeks until the next race. Plenty of time to deconstruct it all.”

She pushes my hand away and snaps, “No. I have to do it now.”

“Bex,” I start to cajole, but she glares at me, and I shut my mouth.

“You did your job, Nash, and you did it well. I fucked up and I’ve got to—”

My hand reaches out, takes her by the jaw and the move surprises her into silence. “You did not fuck up. You made a risky strategy call that didn’t pay off. There’s a difference.”

She snorts. “Tell that to Hendrik. Or Matthieu. Or literally anyone else on the team who’s probably whispering behind my back right now.”

“They’re wrong,” I insist. “You made the right call. Timing just wasn’t on your side today.”

---