Page 42 of Start Your Engines

Senna folds her arms across her chest. All she succeeds in is pushing up her breasts. My nostrils flare. I know exactly how I’d like to work through my sex drought.

“He’s a sports psychologist. I’ve seen your pre-race rituals. They look like obsessions.”

“It’s under control,” I snap, my eyes pinched and mouth tight. My face burns with shame. “I’m not discussing anything with a sports psychologist. Especially not that one.” I point my thumb in the direction of the stranger.

“Why not hi—” Senna sighs and shakes her head. “Ric, could you leave Connor and me to talk? I’ll call you.”

Ric nods. He steps closer to me, and I pull back. “Connor, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re not the first elite sportsman to perform rituals. But I want the reasons behind them in case they’re symptomatic of conditions that affect your performance and safety on the track. I can help you.”

I stare Ric down.

“Bye, Senna,” Ric says before leaving.

The door clicks closed behind him, and Senna and I are left standing a few metres apart. I keep my eyes focused on hers. I need a distraction from this moment, but I can’t let it be her incredible body.

“Is he another one of your ‘buddies’?” I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth.

She walks behind her desk and sits down in her chair.

My head drops, and I plop into one of her chairs. I should leave before I say anything else stupid, but part of me is desperate to tell her about the rituals and their reasons.

“Why are you still with the team, Dane?”

I hold back my sad sigh. She’s stopped calling me Connor.

“You know your brother has me in a water-tight contract.”

She presses her fingertips together and creates a bridge with her hands. “I could break that contract and pay you off so you can leave. You’d never have to see me or this team again.”

“Is that what you want?”

She rubs her scar, and I want to rip her fingers away from it. It’s like a dagger in my throat. Does she understand how deeply it hurts me every time she does that?

“Do you want me out of your life for good?” I growl.

She pushes her fingers through her hair. I want those short blond waves in my hands.

Now she knows my rituals, my thoughts are jumbling. She remains silent.

“Fine, I’ll leave because you clearly don’t want me here anymore.”

I start towards the door. The burning sensation in my chest tells me to go, but Jimmy’s words about how I don’t apologise have me turning back.

“Ten years ago, when I visited you at home after the crash, I was so adamant that I had to tell you what happened that I didn’t say sorry. I’ve never said sorry.” I swallow loudly, waiting for her to tell me to get out, but she looks at me with eyes wide enough for me to drown in. “I never meant to hurt you, Senna, but I did. I destroyed your racing career. You were the best driver, way better than Niki, me, and all those guys who went on to have F1 careers. I ruined that for you, and I am so sorry. I wish I’d told you this before. I’m more sorry about that day and the way I was after than you can ever imagine.”

For the first time, I don’t attempt to explain what happened or tell her it wasn’t my fault.

I stand by the door, my face against the glass, although my words are aimed at her. “I’ve got some things to do in the garage. I want to speak to Jacs about one of the car’s problems. But I’llbe gone by the end of the day and you’ll never have to see me again. I’m sorry for everything, Senna.”

“Connor, wait.” She touches my forearm, and her fingers burn my skin. I didn’t hear her walk over to me. She’s probably not wearing her shoes. It’s one of those cute things she does.

I turn, and she’s standing so close. The scent of orange blossom fills my lungs. But I can’t wait a second longer.

“Goodbye, Coults.”

I look at her standing at the edge of her office one last time. I’m sure her stare will haunt me in my dreams.

CHAPTER 19

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