Throttled: Dirty Air (Book 1)(89)

“He also loved watching The Twilight Zone with Mami. Talked about how he posted on Reddit boards about it and stuff.” Santi hits Noah with a smirk.

I see what he does here.

My mom smiles at the memory. “Such a sweet boy, offering to read the Bible with me.”

My brother shoots me a look. All right, the Bible study group was a bit weird.

My dad joins in on the fun because why the hell not. “Don’t forget about Felipe.”

“What was wrong with him? Do you all have chisme sessions without me?”

“To be fair, he was gay.” My brother hits me with a family secret I had no clue of.

Noah chokes on his wine. “You dated someone without knowing they were gay?”

My eyes narrow at him. “Seeing as this is all news to me, clearly not.”

“Sorry. We have to air all two pieces of Maya’s dirty laundry in case Noah wants to run in the other direction,” Santi says before sipping his wine.

My mom butts in, ending Santi’s game. “Noah won’t run. He’s liked her since Barcelona.”

Noah and I look at my mom with wide eyes.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. The way you looked at my daughter is one I recognize in my own husband. You two were just too stubborn to admit it.”

My dad grumbles under his breath.

“What’s that, mi amor?” She smiles at him.

He looks Noah in the eyes. “If he breaks her heart, I’ll run him over with the car he loves more than anything.”

“Loved more than anything.” Noah sends me a wide smile that I save for my memories.





42





Maya


Noah preps for the final Prix race despite the crash last week, all smiles and jokes as the crew works in the garage. Such a badass. He landed the third position on the grid after a decent qualifying round.

Pit mechanics and engineers act as the backbone of a team, fixing any damage from Noah’s previous crash; the car looks brand new with not a dent in sight. Noah thanks the crew as his fingers graze the red hood.

Worst-case scenarios flash through my mind as I hang out with Santi for his last race. I clasp my fingers in front of me, my sneakers rocking back and forth against the concrete floor. Abu Dhabi. The final Grand Prix and home of the infamous crash between Noah and my brother. With a close Championship standing between Bandini and McCoy, it all comes down to this race.

Noah runs an unsteady hand through his hair while he talks to the engineers. Despite me asking him about his nervousness, he feigns indifference. He gives me a quick peck on the lips before he takes off with crew members toward the track.

My brother tugs me in for a good luck hug.

“Try not to crash into my boyfriend this time,” I mumble into his chest.

“I was planning on knocking Liam out. Seemed like a safer bet because that guy can’t hold a grudge to save his life.”

Our bodies shake from laughing. We break apart, and Santi hops into his car, waving at me as the crew pulls him away.

I hang out in pit row, preferring to be close instead of lost somewhere in the crowd. Earlier, Noah reserved Grandstand VIP tickets for my parents so they could experience a Prix like real fans. My heart swelled at the look of appreciation my parents offered him, both of them unaware of how much it means to Noah to have someone rooting for his team. Noah, a man denied of love and affection, craves my family’s acceptance more than anything.

Race cars zipping down the track do little to calm me. Noah’s car speeds by, a red blur with an engine reverberating off the walls. McCoy cars follow behind, creating a vortex of sound and dirty air.

Noah deserves the World Championship, and honestly, I want him to win, hoping it can help us overcome these worries.

Sorry, Santi. I’m loyal to my boyfriend, too.

A few cars crash throughout the laps. One of the drivers from Albrecht can’t catch a break this season, leaving behind a crumpled mess of a car after turn three.

Cars lap around the track. Sports announcers talk about Noah’s swift recovery after his tragic loss in Brazil, his racing a testament to his will to win. My heart taps against my chest, unrelenting during the first few laps. No hiccups yet. I take my first steady breaths once Noah makes it through his first ten laps with no issues.

Round and round cars go, careening through the track. Racers complete laps in less than two minutes. The Prix rankings are close, with Bandini seconds away from McCoy, Santi trailing behind Noah with Liam in the lead. Noah’s engine roars as he pulls in for a pit stop to get new tires. His last one for this season. He takes off again, spitting himself back out onto the track, eating up any time lost.

Noah completes his forty-fourth lap, only eleven circuits left between him and the winter break. His car hangs behind Liam, putting him in second place. He can’t win the World Championship if he keeps the runner-up position.

His car jerks, the movement unfamiliar. Like he hesitates. Noah’s reputation for overtaking cars is missing, his usual swagger on the racetrack not coming out.

“Maya, I need you to get over here.” Sophie’s dad waves me over.

I don’t hide my surprise when he hands me the headset that communicates with Noah. He presses the mute button, taking a deep inhale while rubbing his temple. His intense green eyes bore into mine.

“Noah wants to talk to you. The nerves got to him, and he thinks you can calm him down. Help him out. His place in the Championship rests on you working with him. If he doesn’t get over this, he may never come back to race because fears like this can ruin a career.”