My chest tightens. “Did you forget to take your meds today? I forgot if being a total dick was a withdrawal symptom.”
He howls from another laugh. Jax doesn’t find my low blow the least bit hurtful, pissing me off more. I hate his words because they hit true. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, with Sophie agreeing to my terms because I’m a selfish shit who wants her and our friendship.
I distract myself with jumping rope. Jax grunts as he switches to the cardio machine. He discards his T-shirt, revealing most of his tattoos. A badass motherfucker, going through that kind of pain for a body full of tattoos.
“And you’re not the slightest bit concerned of her wanting more than friendship from you?” His gaze sizes me up.
“No, we added benefits, not vows. Stop being such a shit friend right now, looking to get a rise out of me.” I’m glad I never shared Sophie’s list with him because he’d give me crap all day about it.
He whistles at me. “All right. I’m sorry. I’ll drop it so don’t get your knickers in a twist. But just so you know, this will never turn out well.”
I shake my head as I wrap up the last set of jumps. “I don’t know why you keep making such a huge deal about this thing with Sophie.”
He fiddles with the treadmill’s buttons. “I’m warning you that you might not like the end result if you don’t face your shit.”
Guilt sits heavy in my gut at the ramifications of a new contract with McCoy. I never told Jax about Rick’s call, afraid to face the truth. But the truth has a funny way of catching up to me whether I like it or not.
Crew members work around the garage, checking on the cars while my engineers talk to me about logistics. I tell them the different issues I found while practicing. People underestimate the amount of time racers spend with the crew, testing out new theories and working through problems. Besides racing and attending parties, I spend a shit ton of time in business meetings.
I crave winning this race. Even though Peter offered me a contract extension, I don’t want to feel a false sense of hope since he hasn’t gotten back to me about my counteroffer regarding the anti-Sophie clause.
Claudia hasn’t attended any other events since the gala where she met Sophie, thank fuck. Her absence helped me repair my relationship with the team and Peter. He seems in better spirits, even going as far as giving me a clap on the back after a McCoy press conference.
Despite Peter’s good mood, I won’t close myself off from other teams, no matter how much I like McCoy. They need to revisit their deal and come back with a better offer, preferably one that doesn’t include giving up someone I care about for racing.
Peter shows up out of nowhere, gracing the garage with his presence. The fancy suit he wears sticks out against the crews’ fire suits and headgear. “You’ve been doing amazing this season, Liam. Place in the top three for us, why don’t you?” He grins at me.
“I plan on it.” I continue with my pre-race checks, killing an hour before the race. I’m man enough to admit I get pre-race jitters and whatever fucker says different is a liar.
I head on up to my suite, ready to hop into my race gear. My phone buzzes from a new message.
Naughty Sophie: Word on the street is that you do pretty well here. I don’t want to inflate your ego any more, but good luck and hope you don’t suck too badly.
I laugh as I type out my message.
Me: Want to make a bet?
Naughty Sophie: Those never end well for all parties involved.
Me: Says who?
Naughty Sophie: Says the party of one who loses every time.
Me: This one will end better. If I end up on the podium, you hang around McCoy garage for the German Grand Prix.
Seeing as Peter needs to attend some McCoy board meeting in London that weekend, I don’t see his presence being a problem. Chris could give zero fucks about who hangs around his garage as long as I perform my best.
The three dots appear on my screen once before disappearing. Minutes pass and I call it a loss, zipping up my race suit. I can’t help wanting Sophie to spend time with me and my family during my home race, a part of me wishing to stake a claim and show her off. Another part of me invites her for the purely selfish reason of being afraid to face my brother alone. Sophie keeps me sane enough to not do something stupid, like avoiding my family while booking them VIP seats far away from the action.
I smile when my phone vibrates against the coffee table.
Naughty Sophie: Sounds like a benefit for you.
Me: No. We both win from a quickie in my suite. You hanging around is an added bonus.