Page 36 of Start Your Engines

“I’m not the person I once was.” I sigh. “This is how we’re doing it now.”

“I’ve not changed.” He squeezes his fists as he stares at my hand. It’s not the secret hug-handshake Connor, Niki, and I did when we were younger, a way to be friends off the track so we could leave the race competitiveness and arguments behind.

My fingers tremble, and he lifts his head to look at me.

“Please,” I beg, unable to meet his gaze.

He takes my hand. His coarse, hot skin against mine makes my belly roll. I guess I’m still some of the person I was, too. I press my lips together as his thumb briefly strokes the top of my hand. Tingles dance up my arms. My pulse quickens, and I praythat he doesn’t stroke the inside of my wrist and find out what his brief touch does to me.

“Truce.” His voice is too deep for my liking.

I swallow loudly.

Don’t let go. Hold my hand because you want this closeness as much as I do.

But he lets go and sidles to the door. I fake a yawn to hide my sadness, although it quickly turns genuine. I’m so fucking tired, although this brief moment with Connor was like a stay of execution from my future.

“Make sure you go home soon. Catch you in Spain, boss,” he says, lingering in my doorway, his arms bracketing it.

“See you then,” I reply, pulling the stress toy out of my pocket.

He nods and walks away.

“I’m glad you liked the stress toy,” he calls from the corridor.

My mouth goes dry. The toy was from him.

Once I’m sure he’s gone, I press my face against the glass of my window and close my eyes. It’s like ice on my burning cheeks. It's a shame it can’t calm the fluttering in my belly.

CHAPTER 16

Connor

Sunshine streamsthrough my hotel window, highlighting the dust particles in the air. I strain my eyes and rub my forehead as I grab my phone off the bedside table.

Five hours? I slept five hours the night before a race! That hasn’t happened since Niki’s crash. I stretch out and yawn loudly. It’s not nearly enough, but it’s still a miracle. Ralf’s chats must be working. I recheck my phone. He’ll be calling in an hour.

I reach for the soft toy kitten that was waiting for me at the hotel when I arrived. There was no note. It resembles Coults. I breathe in its orange blossom and mango scent while trying not to hope Senna left it for me. That she thinks about me. I kept it in my bed as I slept. I sniff it before striding to the window to gaze at the city square.

I’m in the plushest hotel in Barcelona. Most of the people rushing between buildings will never stay somewhere like this or be offered the comforts I’m given. I pinch myself like I did the day I first signed with a racing team. Unlike Niki and nearly all the other drivers I race against, I didn’t grow up with money. My racing career is a mixture of skill and a lot of luck. If Niki and Senna’s dad hadn’t spotted me karting, I’d probably be like theother people I went to school with, struggling between earning an honest living and trying to stay out of jail.

I sigh as I step into the bathroom. This room has everything, including an ornate bathtub I’ll use later when I’m sore and tired, as my end-of-race day routine. My old routine was drinking with Niki, maybe finding a hookup, and rushing for the plane home or wherever the team said we were travelling.

But I’m not that guy anymore.

I think back to Ralf’s wedding and Senna capturing my heart. I was Dane the Dick, the guy with a deserved bad rep and a love for sex and fast cars, but seeing Senna that day made me realise she was the one.

And as soon as I got home, I remembered why she’d never be mine.

If not for that wedding and Niki’s accident I’d probably be at Vessa, driving like a beast and chatting with every woman who smiled at me.

I slump against my door. What would have happened if Senna had been there for me after my dad left? I learnt the hard way that I didn’t have anyone to look after me. Not that I need anyone. It’s my job to protect others, not the other way around.

My phone rings, distracting me from my internal ramblings. I check my screen as I take a breath.

“Niki,” I say, putting the phone on speaker as I prepare for race day. “You’ve not contacted anyone in weeks.”

“I was busy.” I wait for more explanation of what he was doing.

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