Page 22 of Crash Course Omega
“He’s still in sixth.”
“Good,” I say coldly. The radio is broadcast live on TV, and we’re supposed to keep teammate drama low, though fans know how I feel about Jaxx. I’ve already had a bollocking about the way I acted during the last Grand Prix.
Even though Jaxx is my biggest competitor, I still don’t want him to fall below tenth position and not add any points to our team total. I want the driver’s championship for myself, but I also want the constructor’s championship. Which means Jaxx has to finish up there with me, no matter how annoying he is.
And now she is here.
The lap is almost over. We’re already swinging back onto the Vegas Strip, and my heart clenches too hard. I need to make sure it’s her, that she has the audacity to show up here, of all places.
More memories of her hit me as another shot of pure anger fires through me and I switch up the gears, screaming out onto the straight and instantly gaining on the burnt caramel Cuba Libre car.
“Maddock, you need to save those tires; we aren’t boxing you again.”
“Got it,” I say stiffly. But there is no way I’m listening when I need to see if it’s really Harmony or just wishful thinking.
Jacob might have won the world championships the year he debuted in F1, but he hasn’t met his scent match. He doesn’t understand what it’s like for an alpha to live without their omega.
Jacob and Mr. Grace are the reasons I was on the Vegas track in the first place.
I just happened to be in the same karting class as Jacob when we were seven, became friends with him, got noticed by his dad, and the rest is history.
Except for that little girl who used to follow us around, especially when she was old enough to start karting. She followed us into F3, and then F2, and she could have reached us in F1. I could have been racing next to her today instead of that asshole Jaxx if she hadn’t left me.
A growl rumbles from me as I take the ninety-degree corner too hard. I yell as the car over-steers, the back tires losing grip as it swings outwards, and I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.
I have that one second, the amazing moment where the car becomes weightless. Where I’m flying because there’s nothing but me, the screeching wheels on the tarmac, and the night air. We skid together as I wait for the crash. All because I fucked upa turn. Because even the briefestchanceshe’s up there and I lose my mind.
I swear, this is it. I swear I’m done for, and I’m going to blame it on Harmony Grace for turning up without warning.
But I spin the steering wheel sharply left, grabbing just enough friction on the tarmac for the car to grip, the body to shake, and for me to speed off of the corner into another straight.
“Maddock, what the fuck is going on?” Jacob snaps.
“I’m fine, I just took it too quick,” I lie. Because I’m already coming around the next corner on the straight toward the Grace paddock.
And I half-hope that I've made a mistake. Her hair is the most distinctive thing about her. It’s a gorgeous ginger wave that runs all the way down her back, and it’s so silky soft that it was like a blanket that covered my chest whenever she fell asleep on me.
My body aches with need, and another growl tears from me as I switch the engine mode and flick the gears to get my speed up.
“Maddock, you’re on medium tires; you can’t risk going that fast right now. Not after the stunt you just pulled.”
“How far away is P2?” I ask again. Because I’m close enough that I’m pretty sure I can catch him.
The radio is silent, and I know what they’re doing again.
“Jacob! Tell me where P2 is.”
“Close,” he says reluctantly. “He’s only 1.2 seconds ahead of you.”
I grin, my gaze hardening. I seriously don’t want to look up at the paddock to see if she’s still there.
But I can’t help myself. It’s been too long.
Every year I go home during off-season, I visit the Graces, and I'm always half-excited and half-scared that she’ll be there.
When she left F1, a wall slammed between her and her family, and we all had to deal with the awkwardness of me joining the Graces for dinners, celebrations, and holidays without her.
Sometimes I imagined I'd just missed her, and I could still smell the scent of strawberries and cream floating through her family’s house like a tease.
