Page 82 of Close Contact
Her jaw flexed. Her arms tightened. “I’m not trying to ruin the night, Callum.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek. “But I know what it looks like when you’re pretending to be okay. And that’s what you’re doing right now.”
She let out a breath, shaky and uneven. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s stupid.”
“I don’t care.” We could do this back and forth for days, but I’d stay right here until she told me.
“I didn’t mean to get weird. It’s just…” She swallowed, blinking too fast. “This is just how women are. Moody. Overdramatic.”
My heart splintered. This self-sabotage killed me. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make yourselfsmaller, Aurélie. Don’t fucking apologize for feeling something.”
“I’m not feeling anything,” she said quickly—too quickly. Her eyes shimmered, but she blinked it away and sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m just tired. That’s all.”
I sighed and tipped my head back to look at the ceiling. You know what? Fuck it. “Dammit, Aurélie. You can lie all you fucking want but it doesn’t change the fact that I see right through you. And you—I pointed at her—are lying to both of us and it pissesmeoff.”
“I don’t want to be the girl who wins and then breaks down,” she snapped. “I don’t want to be fragile. I can’t be. People arewatching me, and the second I’m not perfect—” Her voice broke.
I stepped in, hands cupping her jaw. “You are allowed to not be perfect.”
Her lips wobbled. “No, I’m not.”
“Who told you that?”
“My fuckingfamily,” she bit out. “Everyone in this fucking sport. You smile. You stay poised. You say the right things. You don’t cry. You don’t get angry. You don’t make it aboutyou.”
The words spilled like a dam had broken, and all I could do was hold her steady while she unraveled.
“I had to worktwice as hardto be taken seriously. I had to stay quiet when the media asked if I even belonged here. I had to smile at myfuckingex when he showed up in the paddock. Then he touched me without permission just when I was—merde, Idon’t know. And now—” She choked and turned away as if even this confession had been too much.
Now she was retreating. I knew the signs, and I wasn’t letting her disappear.
“Hey,” I said, reaching for her. “Look at me.” She did. Barely. Her eyes were glassy. Her mascara was smudged. And still, she was the most fucking beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “You went through something traumatic today, love.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t argue with me. Someoneviolatedyou. Someone you used to trust. He touched you and tried to force himself on you. That’s not drama. That’s not overreacting. That’s notFrench. That’s fucking real and raw andpainful.”
Her chest heaved. “But I made it weird. I—I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” I reached for her hands and brought them to my chest. “You are allowed to be shaken. You are allowed to need someone. And you’re allowed to needme.You have had a long day. Hell, a long week. You had to process seeing your ex. Had to cope with the trauma from your family. You’re actively fighting systemic sexism thatno one elseis addressing. You made history today and won your first race. And everything that’s come after that. You. Are. Allowed. To.Feel.”
She looked up at me then. Truly looked. And I saw it. Not just the fear… but the shame.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I know that this part—us—is silly. I know you love me. Santino… he said I fuck like a pornstar. But when Marco said that thing about the kiss, and then Kimi said that thing—pain and poetry—it just… it hit me wrong. Made me feel like all I’m good for is sex.”
My stomach sank.
“You’ve said such beautiful things to me. You’ve made me feel worshipped. Desired. Like I’m unforgettable. But I guess part of me wondered… if you’ve done it before. If I’m just?—”
“No.” I couldn’t let her feel this way. Fuck, it killed me to think this was how she felt when, earlier, all I could think about was everything I wanted withher. But it came out hard. I softened instantly. “No, Aurélie. Don’t even finish that sentence.”
