Page 14 of Start Your Engines

“Hey, Layla,” I say to the yawn on the other end of my phone. “What you doing?”

“Studying,” my baby sister replies, with a grogginess that was cute fifteen years ago when she slept in my arms as an angelic-faced five-year-old. “I’ve reached the top five per cent in my year.”

“You’re amazing. I knew you were smashing it, but that’s incredible.” She’s messaged me photos of her grades every week. I throw on my gym clothes. There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight. Insomnia wins again. “But are you having fun? It doesn’t always have to be about studying. I could set you up on a date, although no one is good enough for you.”

Her chuckle warms me.

“Con, don’t be trying to set me up because you can’t date the woman you want. How is your boss, the beautiful and too good for you Senna Coulter?”

“If I hadn’t seen you after Ralf’s wedding, you wouldn’t suspect anything.” That day, I realised all my years of trying to hate Senna were pointless. My heart had kept a secret place for her during the years we weren’t speaking.

“I’d have worked it out eventually.”

I grunt my response.

“Please tell me you’re not just grunting ather?”

“You know I could stop paying your tuition at any point, right?”

“What did you tell Dad that time?”

I remain silent, hoping she won’t repeat my conversation with Dad when I was signed to the Lapoire Team at eighteen.

“You know, when you told him he could spend more time with the family because you didn’t need him to be your coach anymore?”

“We don’t need to go over that again.” I thought joining Formula Two and giving my dad the freedom to be with the family would be perfect—until he left us for the mother of another driver.

Layla performs an impression of me but adds an extra huff because she loves making me out as the grumpy one. ““Fine, Dad, we don’t need you. Even if I had pittance, I’d do everything I could to help my family, including paying for Layla to train in whatever career she wants.” I was only ten years old!”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. My mum can’t afford the exorbitant costs of her study. She’s the best cheerleader from a distance, but Layla’s media degree and my racing career are far removed from Mum’s happy life working in a remote Scottish hospital, where she disappeared with Layla after my dad left. “Fine. I’m honoured I’m part of your life and enjoy helping you reach your dreams. Now get lost.”

Her laughter makes me grumble louder, especially when she adds, “Back to Senna.”

“I’m avoiding her. Technically, I’ve dodged or been pleasant to her before extracting myself from every Senna-related situation as quickly as possible.” I don’t add that it’s because when I’m with her, I want to press all her buttons, and when I’m not, I feel guilty for not protecting her. “I’m pretty sure, based onShakedown a couple of weeks ago, that she’s on Antoine’s side. So, whatever, I don’t care.”

I fold my arms and glare at my lying face in the gilt-edged hotel mirror.

“Are you going to leave like you said you wanted to do at the start of the season? Because I need you to keep her sweet.”

“I can’t leave. I promised Niki I’d stay and protect her. I just wish I could get more sleep.”

I shield my sister from the worst of it. She’s been through enough with our dad and should be enjoying university life. I can’t tell her that I’m getting three hours of sleep a night and struggling to eat. Last night, I walked the streets, just like the night before Shakedown. I’ve sent countless unanswered messages to Niki.

“Con, you need to tell Senna what driving does to you and how you’ve barely driven since Niki’s accident. She’ll understand more than most bosses.”

“Because she was in a crash that I caused?” I shiver against a cold sweat.

“Yeah, and because it was her brother who was seconds away from…you know.”

Images of Niki’s car, flames rising from the engine, sucker-punch me. I clear my throat, but no amount of swallowing clears the dryness.

“Connor, I love you, but you’re torturing yourself. You promised Niki you’d protect her, but your mind is a mess. You can’t keep hiding your feelings about driving or your guilt from what happened when you were teenagers. Sooner or later, she’ll find out that you still want?—”

“Don’t say it,” I cut in. “If no one says it, then we can pretend it’s untrue. And if it’s not true, I can protect her like I promised.” I squeeze my eyes closed. “I owe Niki. But I owe Senna more, because our crash ended her career. And her dad is thinking ofselling the team, so the best way I can help her is by staying out of her way and succeeding. Qualifying is later today. I need to drive my best and get high on the grid to stand a chance of doing well in the race on Sunday.”

Layla’s voice softens. “I understand that you care about her, but you need to see a professional and deal with this. You’ve got too much in your head. It’s no wonder you’re not sleeping.”

“Or I could keep going and hope everything will be okay. I managed to get through practice in the car.” I know my decision-making is irrational, but that’s all I’ve got.

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