Collided: Dirty Air (Book 2)(102)

“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.

My dad warned me about the guys here and the world they live in. But I didn’t listen, resulting in getting hurt. But on the flip side, I found bits and pieces of myself, discovering what I love along the way. I found love in art again. And now I appreciate the way life happens naturally, without plans or lists. This season helped me mature whether I wanted to or not, and similar to growing pains, it hurts.

I’m ready to go home and show the world what I’m made of. For real this time. No more hiding behind a degree I hate or a Fuck it list to prove to myself how I can have fun and let go.

“Sophie! Wait!” Liam’s voice echoes off the pit walls.

My feet turn on their own to find Liam running toward me in his race suit, looking like a white knight.

He stops in front of me, not the least bit winded. “I need to talk to you.”

“About?” I cringe at the roughness in my voice.

“I had no idea you knew about the McCoy deal. Fuck. I tried to change it by getting them to agree to my conditions.” He runs a hand through his damp hair, probably wet due to a mix of alcohol and sweat.

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“Why are you acting casual about this? I’m so sorry. You probably feel betrayed, but I swear I was working with them to secure something better. They didn’t tell me anything. And fuck, the fact that Rick talked to you behind my back makes me want to rip him a new asshole to match his personality.” Liam’s worried eyes run over my face.

“I understand why you didn’t. It’s really okay. You have to do what you need to for racing because that’s your end goal.”

He grips my hands in his, a current of energy trailing up my arm. “That’s not true. Not anymore. I want you.”

I shake my head in a weak attempt to rid his words from my ears. “I can’t blame you for struggling to decide between not being my friend anymore or staying with McCoy. Which is so fucked up, but I get this world. I get you. But you hurt me, not admitting you loved me despite everyone telling me you do. And I’m tired of people telling me. It’s not their job, it’s yours.”

“I do love you. I swear. I’ve done a shit job at realizing it, and an even shittier job admitting it to you. I love you more than racing itself. I’ve been miserable since you started avoiding me, where even spending a week without you is fucking torture. My chest aches, my sleep cycle blows, and my head throbs every fucking day. I can’t stand how I feel without you around. And I don’t want to anymore.”