Page 66 of Red Flagged
“That isnotwhat this is,” I growled, voice cracking. “And you fuckingknowit.”
She threw her arms out like she couldn’t believe I was serious. “You dropped that bomb in front of everyone. Youhumiliatedme. And now you think you get to be possessive? Controlling? You think you still get to fucking touch me?”
“I don’t think,” I bit out. “Iknow.” My voice was shaking with fury and heartbreak and the sharp edge of desperation that came when you were fighting for something you weren’t even surethey wanted anymore. “Because you’re mine. And I am yours. Andone argumentdoesn’t rewrite the whole goddamn story.”
“Oh, that’s rich?—”
“You don’t get to judge the ending before I’ve told you themiddle, Aurélie.”
Her mouth opened. Shut. Opened again.
I felt like a live wire, frayed and sparking, standing in the middle of the goddamn valet loop with staff pretending not to stare. I could feel the judgment coming off them in waves—and worse, the pity.
“You’re mad? Good.” My voice fractured, then built again. “Be mad. Be fucking furious. But don’t you try to twist this into some neat little narrative where I’m the villain and you’re the martyr. Just because it’s easier than believing that Imeantwhat I said.”
I exhaled, the sound rough and ragged. Yanked my hands through my hair and then shoved them into my pockets to keep from reaching for her again. Every instinct I had was screaming to grab her, to pull her into me, to kiss her until she remembered everything we were.
But I didn’t.
I just stood there.
And she didn’t say a word.
The silence cut sharper than anything else. All the usual ways I got through to her—none of them were working. She was quiet, withdrawn, distant in that terrifying way that said she wasn’t angry anymore. She washurt.And maybe I really had fucked things up so badly this time it couldn’t be fixed.
Something hollowed out in my chest. That space I’d carved out for her, the one she’d filled so completely, felt like it was collapsing in on itself.
“Get in the car, Aurélie,” I said finally, voice flat with resignation. “Or don’t. You either fight for us or you walk away. The choice is yours.”
Still, she didn’t move or respond. She just stared at me, her gaze unreadable. Then, slowly, she crouched down to pick up her purse—the one I hadn’t even realized she’d dropped—and that’s what broke me.
The panic flared again, my heart splintering at the edges. Because I knew. Iknewin that moment that this was the end, and it was my fault.
Proof I was better off staying the machine. The man behind the wheel who controlled the outcome with precision and speed. Not the man who let his heart get tangled in something he couldn’t fix.
Proof that my parents’ pain hadn’t been a cautionary tale, it had been a fucking prophecy. I should’ve just kept my head down. Raced until I couldn’t anymore, or until I died.
At least then, I could’ve given the world one last win. One last reason not to call me a complete failure. Instead, I let her in. Now I was watching her slip through my fucking fingers, and not for the first time because I couldn’t stop self-destructing. It didn’t matter how many times I tried to chase her down if she’d made up her mind.
She would go on without me. We’d be just rivals again, and nothing else. She would dominate the sport, probably change the world.
And one day… she’d fall in love with someone who didn’t break her the way I just did, who didn’t make her feel small in front of a crowd.
She’d get married. Maybe start a family with that person. I would watch it all from the sidelines, regretting my life choices and hating myself.
And to her, I’d just be a memory. Amistake. Background noise. The man who let the only thing he ever truly wanted walk away.
Because that’s what I did.
That’s who I was.
The fuck up. The flame out. The one who wasn’t enough to be loved—not by his own mum. Not by a father who only showed affection after a podium finish. And not by her, the woman who’d seen all of me and still couldn’t stay.
The woman I loved.
The one who got away.
I should’ve walked away.If I turned on my heel and disappeared back inside, maybe I wouldn’t feel jagged from the inside out.
