Guilt churns inside of me. “Maybe when I hit thirty-five? Retirement age, perhaps?”
“You keep messing around as you do, with women related to powerful men no less, then retirement will be a hell of a lot sooner than thirty-five. I can tell you that.”
Shit. Someone call a doctor because my dad gave me a third-degree burn.
I resist the urge to snap at my dad. “I get it. I fucked up big time, messing with the man who signs my paychecks. But I plan on making smarter choices this year.”
Thanks to my stupidity, I put a target on my back in a sport where there are only twenty spots with hundreds of eager drivers. No math needed to show what a fucking idiot I am because this one is easier than two plus two.
“I sure hope so. Look at Noah, now having to share Bandini with a younger driver. There’s always someone eyeing your position.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Santiago Alatorre is talented, I’ll give you that. But he’s a total psycho behind the wheel, so Noah having his hands full with him can work in my favor.”
“Not if you keep messing up. You know, I’d hate for the day to come when you meet the right girl, but you’re too blinded by your ignorance to see it. Your reputation will get you in trouble if you don’t fix it because no worthy woman wants to date a guy who acts like you do.”
“What woman wouldn’t want to date a successful F1 driver?” My knuckles blanch as I grip my steering wheel, my nails biting into the leather.
“The same type who wouldn’t want to date a has-been manwhore because she has enough self-respect for the two of you.” His clipped tone echoes through the speakers as I pass ocean-lined streets.
I take in a few deep breaths before responding. “I appreciate how much you care. Truly I do. But I’m going to fix it with McCoy, avoid drama, and stick to racing. No more stories about my dick in the papers. I promise.”
“If I had been half the idiot you tend to be lately, I wouldn’t have snagged your mom.”
My parents have a perfect marriage with arguments that end in a hug, a schedule for who takes out the trash and does the dishes each day, and displays of affection that no child should see. Thank God I have a brother because I would’ve been traumatized if it weren’t for him. Lukas taught me why we don’t go into our parents’ room when they close the door, no matter how loud they scream.
“Not everyone gets to have a happy ending,” I mutter into the Bluetooth microphone. The usual tightness in my chest occurs at the memory of Johanna not getting hers.
Fuck. Leave it to my dad to stir up old feelings that have no place in my life right now.
“Listen…I know what happened with Lukas and Johanna affected you more than you let on. We all loved her, and you both were especially close. But you can’t let fear drive your life. What happened was tragic, but that doesn’t mean you need to live guardedly because you’re afraid.”
A bitter laugh makes its way out of my throat by its own accord. “I’m not talking about this with you.”
“You never talk about it. Not with me, not with anyone. Her passing away was hard on us all. But you shut down, and now look at you. It’s been almost three years, and you’re still making these foolish mistakes. Every December, it’s the same with you, holing up somewhere as soon as the season ends, making self-destructive decisions. You avoid us right after the holidays for Kaia’s birthday. This time you ended up with the wrong girl at the wrong time. So, you can pretend to be fine in front of everyone else, but we know.”
“Just because I’m having fun and hooking up with women doesn’t mean I’m hung up on Johanna’s death or anything. I get I messed up, but don’t be ridiculous trying to connect it to shit from the past. I happen to get busy after Christmas.” I bite on my tongue.
My dad sighs. “Save your lies for people who believe them… Really, it’s okay to let someone in. To let them know you for more than the image you put out there.”
The thing about being the nice guy is how no one sees how corroded my heart is—how it leaks acid like an old car battery.
“I’m not looking for that right now.” Or ever. Not since I experienced firsthand what happens to people who love hard.
Johanna’s death changed me. A few months after she passed, I zipped up my race suit, signed a contract with McCoy, and won my second World Championship. I accepted the life I was meant to live while shunning the bitter memories. Passivity became my defense mechanism over the past few years.