Page 78 of Formula Freedom
Something flickers in his eyes, as if he’s truly considering my words. His grip relaxes on my wrist, and I pull it away from him.
Lance takes a step back, a defeated look on his face.
“You’re not who I thought you were,” he mutters.
“And neither are you.”
Silence stretches between us like a chasm.
He lingers for one beat longer—like he might say something else—but then he turns and walks out. The door closes behind him with a click that echoes through the house, and I heave out a massive sigh of relief.
I don’t move for a long time. Just stand there, breathing in the quiet, my heart pounding, my wrist still tingling even though he wasn’t hurting me.
But I did it.
It’s over.
And this time… I didn’t run.
I stand there for a while longer, staring at the door Lance just walked through, waiting for something final to click into place. But it doesn’t. Not exactly. It’s not relief, not sadness. Just a hollow, exhausted kind of quiet. Like the storm passed and left everything still standing but changed.
My first instinct is to call Reid. To tell him it’s done, that I’m okay, that Lance is gone and I stood my ground. I want him to hear it in my voice—that I meant every word, that I chose him without hesitation, that I’m coming back.
I reach for my phone… thumb hovering over his name in my favorites.
But I pause.
I know he’s busy with race week. I know he’s focused. But still… a part of me worries that the hurt might be too much for him. Maybe even doubting me. And maybe I deserve that.
So, I lower the phone without dialing.
Not yet.
What Icando is make sure the people who are most affected by this—aside from me—know the truth. Graham and Leanne deserve that, and I owe it to them. They’ve been caught in the middle, doing their best to stay neutral, but I know this has weighed heavily on them.
I sit on the edge of the couch and call Leanne Hemsworth, nerves knotting in my stomach as it rings.
She answers, her voice warm but tentative. “Lara?”
“Hi,” I say. “Sorry to call so early.”
“Not at all,” she replies. “Is everything okay?”
I swallow and stare down at my left hand where I used to wear Lance’s diamond. “I was wondering… do you and Graham have a minute to talk?”
There’s a pause on the other end, and I hear the faint clink of a coffee mug being set down. “Have you seen Lance?” she asks tentatively, but she knows by the tone of my voice I have.
“Yeah… he left just a few minutes ago.”
“Let me get Graham in here,” she says, now briskly efficient. She switches me over to speakerphone and then I hear Graham. “I’m here, Lara. Are you okay?”
“Yes.” My voice wavers slightly, and I force it steady. “He showed up this morning and he looked rough—like he hasn’t slept in days. He was angry. Defensive. Still trying to rewrite what happened between us.”
“Oh no,” Leanne practically moans, and I have never forgotten that this is her son first and foremost.
I don’t bother giving her details on the nasty things he said, leaving it alone because they don’t need to hear it.
“He’s not himself, Leanne. He hasn’t been for a while. And I know you’ve tried to stay neutral in all this, but I needed you to hear it from me. I reiterated to him that it’s over. There’s nothing left to salvage between us, and I need to move on.”
