Page 15 of Start Your Engines

It’s her turn to grumble.

“Anyway, you said I needed to keep Senna sweet. What are you planning?” I ask as I walk to the hotel gym to lift weights and ease my panicky energy.

“I’d benefit from a chat about my future. Senna was the director of marketing, and she won awards. I’d love to speak to her about my next steps.”

“Maybe she could get you an internship or even a job.”

“I’m no nepo baby.”

I chuckle. My sister listened to me moan about the sons of drivers who got everything, whereas I had to struggle for sponsorship and funding. If not for Niki and Senna imploring their dad to finance me, I wouldn’t have raced at all—another reason why I owe the Coulter family.

“Okay, I’ll speak to her. I’ll be in touch, Layla. Thank you for the chat.”

“And remember what I said. Get help. Love you.”

“Love you too. Try to have some fun at university.”

I need to smack a punching bag until sleep comes. As I weave through the basement corridors of the hotel, I consider finding Antoine and hitting him instead.

Pressure rushes my ears. If only Niki knew why I am the worst person to defend his sister. I miss my best friend so much.This time last year, my only worries were deciding which woman to bed and how Niki and I could avoid the paparazzi while tearing up a new city. My rep was well deserved, and I revelled in it. I saw Senna at races, but she was always at such a distance that I didn’t have to deal with my buried feelings for her.

Maybe I should see a specialist, but Senna might find out and stop me from driving. I need to keep her safe while not letting myself care too much about her.

But I remember how she licked her lips when I spoke on her radio last week. I made her livid, and yet I swear, in that moment, she wanted me. I’ve replayed that moment all week, except instead of speaking on her radio, I pin her to the wall and kiss her like I always wanted to.

“Hey, bro.” Senna’s voice carries down the corridor from the gym. Why is Niki answering her calls but avoiding me?

Her soft sobs catch my attention. I peek through the gap in the door. Tears slide down her cheeks. She pushes them out of the way with the sleeves of her Coulter team hoodie. I need to protect her and take all her tears away, but I’m frozen in my spot.

“I don’t know what to do. I can get Antoine to toe the line, but what about Connor?” She hasn’t said my first name without an expletive in years. It grips my heart like it did the night before she crashed and I watched her sleep. “He acts like I’m nothing. He won’t let me tell him what to do, so I lose it with him and try to be aggressive, but he smirks in my face. It’s humiliating and gives the people in the garage another reason to laugh behind my back and disrespect me. I know what they’re saying.”

She’s crying because of me?

My head drops as shame prickles my skin. The fear of racing has got to me, but it’s also my reaction to her that I’ve been countering with my dickhead behaviour. I vowed once to protect her at all costs, and although it ruined everything and hurther beyond reason, there’s still a part of that Senna who needs people on her side.

Hatred fills me as her sobs continue and she tells Niki more of my behaviour. From her perspective, I sound even worse. If I were him, I’d want to protect her against this prick.

But I’m the prick.

My vow didn’t work when I was younger, and I was more stupid than I am now. But as I return to my room, I make a new vow. I’ll do everything possible to make this a successful year for Senna. I never want her to cry again, especially not because of me. This will be Senna and Team Coulter’s best year, and then I will move on because driving isn’t for me anymore.

This isn’t my future, but it can be hers.

But how do I deal with my fear of driving?

CHAPTER 7

Senna

A soundin the corridor brings my tears to an end. Fuck. It’s bad enough no one respects me, but if they find me crying to my big brother because I can’t manage my team, I’m screwed.

“I’ll talk to him, sis. He’ll behave better once we chat. I will make him listen,” Niki says.

“No, I need to fight my own battles. I’ll sort it. Don’t worry about me. I needed to get everything out.” And I had no one else to talk to.

I walk to the door of the gym and peek through the opening. No one is there, although there’s a faint smell of wood and lavender. I know who smells of that, but if Connor had heard me cry, he’d have made a point of showing me he’d heard.

I rub my thumb over my scar as anxiety grips my throat. Not that anxiety is ever far from me these days, but this is another wave for me to drown under.

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