Tears spring to my eyes. “I like you, Dan. I do. I just don’t feel the spark that I should…and I…I have feelings for someone else. I’m really sorry.”
His silence is painful.
“And have you fucked this someone else?” he finally bites out.
His words surprise me because I’ve never heard him speak this way before.
“No, of course not! He kissed me, but I stopped it. Then, I came home and called you.”
“Who is it?”
“I…that doesn’t matter. I’m just so sorry.”
“Yeah, well, you should be. Good-bye, India.”
The line goes dead.
I fall back onto the bed, covering my face with my hands.
When did my life become such a mess?
The moment I met Leandro Silva.
I can’t go on like this, driving myself crazy. And I can’t keep treating him, not after tonight.
There’s only one thing I can do.
I’m going to have to refer him to another therapist and cut him from my life—permanently.
I curl my arm around my stomach, pressing against the ache the thought leaves inside me.
“YOU OKAY IN THERE?”
My hands are gripped around the wheel. I move my eyes to Carrick, who’s standing outside the car, by the driver’s door.
Giving a nod to him, I slide down the visor on my helmet with a click. “I’m fine.”
“I’m in your ear. Talk to me if you need to.” He taps his finger to the earpiece he’s wearing that will connect us while I’m out on the track.
I give another nod, not taking my eyes off the road ahead.
With his hand, he taps the roof of the car and moves away to stand in the pit to watch me.
We’re at Silverstone. I’m driving Carrick’s Bugatti Veyron Super Sport. This will be my first time back on a track since the accident
Since I drove India’s car, I’ve had the growing urge to get back out here.
I had rented a car the very next morning, as I wanted to keep driving. My car is still fucked, after I smashed her up, so I had a garage take my car to fix her.
For the last few days, I’ve been driving around on my own for hours at a time, building my confidence. Driving on my own was a risk but a huge achievement for me.
I had taken the car out on the highway to feel some speed but it didn’t feel enough and that was when I knew it was time to get back on the track.
Even though I made the decision to do this, I still felt afraid at the thought.
I wanted to call India, but I couldn’t.
So, I called Carrick, and here we are.
Truth is, I could have used any car. I just needed someone here with me.
I really wanted that someone to be India, but I haven’t spoken to her since the kiss on Wednesday. It’s Saturday now.
I’m trying to give her space, let her come to me. I was hoping she would have come to me before now. The days passing aren’t leaving the best feeling in my gut, but I know that charging in there with my guns blazing, demanding she talk to me, won’t help shit.
India needs to be approached with thought and caution.
I have my appointment with her on Monday morning, so if I haven’t heard from her before then, then that will be the day we talk.
And we will definitely talk. If not more.
I know for sure she wants me now, so there’s no stopping me. She can deny it and say it can’t happen, but it will.
The chemistry between us is off the charts. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I don’t intend on walking away from it. I’ve felt her body under my hands. Seen the way she responds to me. There’s no stopping that kind of desire, no matter how hard she might try.
I turn the engine on, and rev it. The car vibrates beneath me. Tremors run up my arms. My heart starts to beat like a motherfucker. My mouth dries.
I blink against the onslaught of fear coming for me.
The barrier coming toward me.
Smoke. I can smell it in my nose. Taste it on my sandpaper tongue.
Feel the pain in my bones.
That was the past.
Lightning doesn’t strike twice.
Unless you’re a seriously unlucky fucker.
A laugh escapes me.
“You okay?” Carrick’s voice comes in my ear.
“Yes. Just realizing what a sick fuck I am.”
“I could’ve told you that years ago.” He chuckles. “You good?”
I blow out a breath. “Yes.”
My arms are still shaking down to my hands. I grip the steering wheel, willing myself to calm down.
It’s a good job I’m not taking out my Formula 1 car. I knew I wouldn’t be up for that just yet. I need to get used to being back out here, and being in control of a car at high speeds and being comfortable with it again. Carrick’s Bugatti is a good car to do it in.
I’m going to take this car around the track, like I’ve done a million times before. Nothing is going to happen to me.
Deep breath, in and out.
I realize that my hands are no longer shaking.
I feel a sense of self-satisfaction bleeding into my veins.
Control. That’s what it is about.
I just need to take hold of my fear and manage it. If I’m good at one thing, it’s control. I thrive on it. It’s like a fucking aphrodisiac for me.
I shift the stick into first.
Easing off the clutch, I hit the accelerator and take off.
I’m at a hundred kilometers in no time.