Page 41 of Speed

“You don’t know any of that,” he said. “If anyone has a problem with who you are, then they’re not worth your time,” he said, calm but unyielding. “But you see the doc; you get your MRI; we face whatever happens there, and then, after, there’s a new career out there for you. You don’t need to hide, and you sure as hell don’t need to apologize for it. And even if some wouldn’t go for it, others would. Times are changing, Brody. Maybe not as fast as they should, but they are. And you don’t need to hide who you are to have a future. Not anymore.”

Hope stirred in my chest again, fragile and uncertain, and I wanted to believe him so much. But I couldn’t ignore the years of conditioning, the weight of an entire industry that thrived on image and conformity.

“Maybe,” I said, my voice a whisper. “But it’s not just about me. If I come out, it affects everyone around me. My team, my sponsors… you.”

I felt Logan’s hand on my shoulder, solid and grounding. “You don’t have to carry all that alone,” he said. “You’ve spent your whole life living for others, trying to be what they wanted. Maybe you come out and live for yourself, and maybe no one wants you, but Jesus, you’re worth nearly a hundred million. You don’t need the F1 circus if they don’t want you.”

His words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, all I could do was nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. Living for myself? I wasn’t sure I even knew how to do that.

But it might work out. I could have a purpose.

I could date Noah.

I could have something real for the first time.

“How would it work?”

“What?”

“The medical things, and me coming out.”

Logan sat next to me on the sofa. “You want the logistics of how we'd do that from your manager's perspective or your brother’s?”

“More about whether I’m honest about the aneurysm and come out, even if I am retired; it's news. Noah is… he's… I can't do that to him.”

I braced myself for judgment, for Logan to flinch or pull back. Instead, his hand came down on my shoulder, solid and steady. “Maybe you need to talk to him and ask him? If it is just friends with benefits, he'll back off with any pressure, and you'll know. If he wants more, then he’ll live in the spotlight. The pressure is too much, and the whole thing crumbles. But maybe it works, and it’s all good, and maybe?—”

“Stop doing that ‘maybe thing’,” I warned, and he smiled. Everything felt so hopeful, but I had a headache and…

“What about the…” I tapped my head, unable to say the word out loud.

Logan’s brows furrowed, as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What about it?”

I hesitated; the words stuck in my throat. How could he not see it? How could he act like it wasn’t this enormous, immovable thing between me and the rest of my life? “It changes everything, Logan,” I said, my voice low.

“Why?” he shot back, his tone sharp. “Why does it have to change everything? It’s a medical condition, Brody, not a death sentence. We’ll get on top of this, and hell, it doesn’t define you unless you let it.”

“You don’t get it.” I shook my head, my chest tightening. I almost blurted out the whole worst-case-scenario-after-an-operation thing, but I wasn't sharing that with anyone—not even my brother. “If I started a relationship with Noah, it's not fair to keep it from him, and as soon as I tell him, it would change everything.”

Logan frowned. “It doesn't have to.”

I took a breath, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “He’d start looking at me like I’m fragile and might break at any second. He’d stop laughing with me the way he always does, stop arguing about stupid crap. He’d stop being himself. He’d hover. He’d worry. And then, worst of all…” I trailed off, swallowing hard.

Logan’s voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. “Worst of all, what?”

I hesitated. “He might say he wanted to be with me.”

Logan blinked, confused. “And that’s bad because…?”

“Because it wouldn’t be real!” I snapped, my voice cracking. “What if he only said it because he felt sorry for me? Because he thought it was what I needed to hear? I couldn’t handle that, Logan. I don’t want to be someone’s charity case, their guilt-driven responsibility.”

“You're spiraling, Brody.”

“I can’t risk it,” I shot back, my voice rising. “And I don’t want to find out. If he stayed out of pity, I’d never forgive myself. And if he didn’t stay—if he left because it's too much to handle—then what?”

Logan’s voice was low but firm. “You can’t decide what’s too much for anyone. That’s their choice, Brody, not yours. You're giving yourself worst-case scenarios and believing them to be true.”

“Fuck. What do I do!”

---