I pull on the collar of my shirt. “I don’t know how to go about fixing this. The whole damn thing gives me anxiety.”
“Okay, well I have an idea, but it might be crazy.”
I settle into the couch across from Lukas. “I have a feeling your version of crazy is pretty tame.”
“Hey, you’re looking at the man who got arrested for public nudity.”
“Does it count if you were busted with Jo because the cop was an asshole who didn’t like you hooking up in a car at a local park? You make it seem like you were caught streaking or something cool.”
Lukas shows me a rare middle finger. “I had to beg the officer to not arrest us. Jo was crying in the backseat while I was cuffed in my boxers. It was borderline traumatic, with me shaking because I was afraid I ruined my chance at med school. All for a quickie because we couldn’t wait to get home.”
“Gross. TMI.” I fake gag. “What does the crazy, rule-breaker have to offer me as far as plans go?”
My brother flips through a few pages of the file, scanning the content. “You’re going to eat shit after you hear what I have planned.”
“I’m on a strict diet, but thanks for the offer.”
“Fuck off.” Lukas smiles at me. A genuine wide smile I haven’t seen in some time—at least not directed toward me.
On top of everything I’ve learned over the past few days, I realize two more things. One: I’m a dumbass for ignoring my brother and evading his calls. I didn’t realize how much I miss him and the easygoingness we have with one another. And two: We talked about Jo without my chest stinging. That thought alone has me holding my head higher.
My brother snaps his fingers to get my attention. “First step: hit them when they least expect it.”
“How so?”
“These two seem to love a good story. Why don’t you give them a taste of their own medicine?” Lukas shoots me a mischievous grin I didn’t know he had in him. I return one, ready for whatever he has planned.
I hope the F1 world is ready for me because I’m about to set fire to the whole fucking thing.
37
Sophie
I mend my torn-up heart with masking tape because I don’t have time to heal before I go back home. Wounds need to be licked in private, preferably under the supervision of Ben and Jerry’s and Parks and Recreation.
I attend the race because I want to be there. At the end of the day, Liam’s my friend. No matter what happened between us or whether he places top or not. He could drive for McCoy or Albrecht and I’d still cheer him on because I love him. There’s no use avoiding my feelings because the constant throb in my chest calls me out on my bullshit, reminding me of what I lost.
So, I shelve my pain as Liam gets showered with champagne, standing proudly with Noah, who won the title of the World Champion this year. I hold a smile the whole time and cheer them all on. No matter how much it hurts me to watch him, I clap my hands when they announce Liam as the runner-up.
His eyes catch mine from the stage and he winks at me before tipping his champagne bottle in my direction. It’s a repeat of the time he placed in Sochi, reminding me of the domino that started this all. I shake my head and laugh. My eyes cloud with tears, but I hold them back and give Liam a wobbly smile.
My dad finds me in the VIP area and pulls me in for a hug. “You know, kiddo, you’ve impressed me a lot of times in your short life. But you standing here and facing something that brings you a lot of pain, now that’s courage.”
I give him a squeeze before he lets go. “How did you deal with everything when my mom left?”
“I woke up one day and realized I can either spend the rest of my life holding on to hope that everything will fall into place…or I can shove two middle fingers at life and make it my bitch. Pardon the language, sweetheart.”
Both my dad and I break out into a laugh together.
“I think I prefer the second option.” I look into his eyes and smile.
“Of course, you do. Where do you think you get it from?” He sends me a wink I’m sure brought all the ladies to their knees back in the day.
Noah shows up out of nowhere and showers my dad in champagne, a gesture of appreciation for all of his hard work, catching me in the crossfire. My soaked Bandini T-shirt clings to my skin. Somehow, I entered a wet T-shirt contest I did not sign up for.
I let my dad have his fun, taking my sad vibes and newfound confidence with me.
I make my way down the empty pit lane, passing by each team’s deserted garage, no longer humming with activity and mechanics. The emptiness matches how I feel inside, mocking me as I say my final goodbyes to F1 because I don’t know if I’ll ever come back.