Page 93 of Green Flag
Luca and I shared a look of pure excitement.
She offered me her hand as we came to the Ciclati door. “My name is Nazmin. I’m head of Ciclati PR. It’s nice to meet you finally, Everly.”
I took her hand.
She was Livie’s boss.
Had Nazmin been copied in on the Dubai emails too? Had she helped reroute the paperwork?
She didn’t introduce herself when she walked into the pit box. She barely gave us enough time to walk in behind her before she started.
“Hello, everyone,” she said, calling the attention of every soul in the place. “In Livie’s absence, I’m stepping in. If anyone asks where Livie is — press, members of StormSprint, even her family — tell them she is on a pre-planned holiday. This conversation never happened. She’ll return soon. Until then, we avoid any conversation about her. If you are asked directly, you know nothing.”
I did know nothing.
And looking at Luca, knowing whatever happened must have been serious, I no longer felt embarrassed about people thinking he cheated on me.
I felt ashamed that I’d cared about that.
That I didn’t trust him.
Because Luca really, truly was the best friend anyone could ask for. But I didn’t want to be just anyone.
19
Chapter 19
Luca
My family hadn’t seen me race for StormSprint.
I kept in contact with them. Before his death, I’d gone to visit Alv in the hospital every month when no one else was around.
Every time I saw him lying there with the tubes and wires, I said goodbye, wondering if it would be the last time that his mottled hand would be warm. The slow rise and fall of his chest wasn’t a reminder that he was alive. It was the ventilator.
After his funeral in France, I went back to Nonna Imelda’s in Italy with my parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
We haunted her house.
I didn’t know what I expected. For a grief shared to be grief halved? But grief wasn’t a ‘problem’; it was an all-consuming ache, and it throbbed when I was confronted with the destruction it had caused in my family.
Nonna Imelda’s eyes were blurry. Her words were sharp.
Mum tried to keep the house together, making meals and washing clothes. My uncle had to pull her into a hug when she finally broke down over a spoon that hadn’t come out clean from the dishwasher. She wailed over the peanut butter that remained smeared on the stainless steel.
My sister was the only one I could talk to without awkward silence. I didn’t even think the others realised the silences existed or how uncomfortable they were. Their minds were either permanently quiet or wired.
And I was just there.
I didn’t think I was numb or emotionless, but I didn’t feel like they did.
Surely, I couldn’t still be in shock? When would it hit? Because it would hit me, right?
Or was it because I’d been the only one to accept it so early on?
Not knowing the answers, not being able to breathe in the house for the heaviness in every glance and word and silence, I used work as an excuse to leave earlier.
It was one more reason I didn’t mind that the charity match would be on Christmas Eve and I might miss some of the holiday with my family.
