Page 95 of Flat Out
My eyes stung harder, the tears burning hot and unwanted. I let out a shaky laugh, the sound breaking. “You’re supposed to be terrifying, not–whatever this is.”
That earned the faintest smile from her, real and vulnerable. “I contain multitudes, darling. And inconveniently for you, one of them is being your friend.”
I swallowed hard, nodding as she let me go. “Not inconvenient in the slightest. You’re becoming very good at it.”
“Of course I am.” She sucked in a deep breath and then flipped her hair over her shoulder like the icon she was, smoothing my collar like nothing had happened. Her voice was crisp again, the moment tucked away. “Now chin up, Frenchie. Cameras don’t need to see any of this. They’ll only see what you let them.”
Something in me warmed as we turned back down the hall, our arms hooking together without thought. For the first time all day, I didn’t feel completely hollow.
“Merci, Brit,” I said, the nickname slipping out before I could stop it.
She blinked, actually shocked. “Brit?”
I shrugged, smirking. “You call me Frenchie. Seems only fair.”
Her lips pursed, clearly fighting a smile. “So what are we, then?”
I grinned. “Just a couple of bitches, I guess.”
The words hung there for half a beat before Ivy barked out a laugh so loud it startled me. Not the polished, polite sound she usually offered, but a real, unguarded laugh. The kind that bent her forward, made her cover her mouth like she couldn’t stop it. I laughed too—messy, hiccuping, splotchy-faced from tears, but it wascleansing.
Two women walking arm in arm down a paddock hallway, ridiculous and raw.
Friend soulmates. Kindred spirits. Two loyal bitches straightening each other’s crowns.
When we rounded back into the hospitality suite, the boys froze.
Marco blinked like he’d just seen a ghost. “Was that… Ivy Sinclair? Laughing?”
Kimi tilted his head, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “Did someone drug her?”
Ivy straightened, slipping her mask back into place with practiced ease. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She smoothed her hair, but I saw the faint blush on her cheeks. Interesting. “Frenchie just said something stupid.”
Marco arched a brow. “Sounded funny.”
“Sounded human,” Kimi muttered.
That made me snicker again, and Ivy elbowed me discreetly, the corner of her mouth twitching as though she couldn’t quite smother her grin.
“Dubois?” Marco asked, his tone softening. “You good?”
Before I could answer, Callum reached for me, tugging me into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. He dipped his head, brushing a kiss to my temple in front of everyone, his voice a low murmur. “She’s good. She’s with us.”
The words sank deep, solid and certain.
I leaned into him, eyes flicking between Marco’s raised brow, Kimi’s unreadable smirk, and Ivy’s glassy-green gaze. The strange little unit we’d built around ourselves—flawed, messy, but unshakable—felt like safety.
Found family.
Against the sport, against the sabotage, against the world.
Home wasn’t just a signature on a dotted line. It wasthis.
The countryside trailsoutside Silverstone were quiet, dew still clinging to the grass and mist rising off the hedges. It should’ve been peaceful. Aurélie had her hair tied into a knot, cheeks flushed against the morning chill, and for a moment she looked so young and alive, I almost convinced myself this run had been a good idea.
But the silence between us said otherwise.
She’d been off ever since she disappeared with Ivy the other day. At first, I’d written it off as recovery from Austria—the way her car had battered her body, the way she nearly collapsed after climbing out. But in the quiet moments back at the hotel, I felt it. The way she clung to me as if she were afraid to let go, but flinched away when I tried to turn that closeness into something more. She’d just shake her head, whisper that she only wanted to be with me, and I’d stop pushing.
