“Take the good with the bad. Learn to live with your fears. Because being with him…having the good, it makes the bad a whole lot better.” She smiles softly. “And you know if your father could have chosen a man for you, it would have been a man like Carrick.” She tucks my hair behind my ear. “This life—racing—is in your blood, and so is Carrick. So, go now, and get that man you love. Fix things, and then bring him back here because I want to meet the man who has my baby girl’s heart.”
“Deixar da fodendo modo!” I yell, honking my horn at the idiot who is driving like a fucking snail in front of me. Basically, I just told him to move out of the way but in a not so nice manner.
I know. I’m being impatient, shouting at random people, but I can’t help it. I need to get to the Autódromo. I need to see Carrick. I have no clue what I’m going to say to him. I just know that I have to tell him how I feel—that I love him and that a life without him is no life at all.
I’ve got to stop fearing the future and start living for today. And if I have to yell at a random stranger to get me to him that little bit quicker, then so be it.
My eyes keep flickering to the clock on the dashboard. The race is due to start any minute. I won’t make it before it does, but that doesn’t matter. I just have to get there.
“Finally!” I huff as the car moves over, allowing me to pass.
Shifting down to third, I press the accelerator hard, so I can speed up and gain momentum. I push back up to fifth the moment I’m flying.
Then, I hear my mum’s caution in my ears. “Drive safe.”
I panic over Carrick’s racing, yet here I am, driving fast to get to him. I need to take it easy. I could get pulled over as well if I’m not careful.
I ease my foot off the accelerator a touch, but then “Back to December” starts to play on the stereo, and now, I’m cursing my mum for listening to a Taylor Swift CD.
Seriously, Mum?
Because Taylor is singing about how she’s sorry for that night, how she wishes she could go back, make it all right…make him love her again.
My foot finds the floor again, speeding me up faster than I was before, propelling me down the road, toward São Paulo and to Carrick.
And if I get a speeding ticket, I’m blaming my mum and Taylor Swift.
Slamming the brakes on the car, I skid to a stop in the Autódromo parking lot. I’m out of the car with my pass in hand, and I’m running my way toward the entrance.
Once I’m in, I ask the security guard which garage Rybell is in, to which he directs me.
I start running again, reaching the paddock, and I catch sight of the giant screen, seeing the race well underway. My legs start to slow, my heart beating faster, when I see Carrick’s name on the screen saying that he’s currently in pole position.
Picking up speed again, I start to run toward the garage entrance.
I’m not too far from Rybell when scary thoughts invade my brain, slowing me to an almost stop.
What if he doesn’t want to see me? I know he’s not in there right now, but I don’t want to ambush him in front of everyone.
Maybe I should just hang back here and watch the race on the screen until he’s finished.
Stop being a chicken, Andi, and get your arse in that garage now!
I force my feet to move again, and I’ve only gotten two steps further when I hear the collective gasps filled with, “Oh God,” and, “No,” from the group of people watching the race in the paddock.
And I know. I just know.
My heart skids to a stop. Don’t be Carrick. Please not him.
Spinning on the spot back to the screen, my eyes meet with the sight of a car in pieces on the track, flames coming out of the back of it.
And I’m flashed back fourteen years.
No.
I don’t wait to see any more. I just start running. Toward Carrick.
My heart and mind are racing as fast as my legs.
Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him.
Reaching Rybell’s garage, I burst in through the door. The whole team is there, everyone watching the screens, but no one is speaking.
“Tell me it isn’t him!” I scream out the words in blind panic.
Everybody in the room spins toward me.
“Tell me it isn’t him!” I yell again.
“Andi, it’s okay.” That’s Ben. He’s moving toward me. “It’s not Carrick. He’s okay.”
I almost fall over from the relief. It’s immense. I’ve never felt anything like it before.
“It’s not him?” I’m breathless. I press my hand to my chest, trying to steady my racing heart.
“No. He’s fine. Absolutely fine.” Ben places his hands on my shoulders, steadying me.
“Thank God.” I lift my eyes to his. “Then, who?”
His eyes dim, and my stomach sinks.
“Leandro Silva.”
“Oh God, no. How…is he?”
He slowly shakes his head. “No one knows yet. They managed to get him out of the car. The medics are with him…but it doesn’t look good.”
How can I hate and love this sport in equal measure?
I hate that it takes great men from us, but I love the man who loves it beyond all reason.
My eyes lift to see Owen walking toward us.
“They’re stopping the race,” Owen tells Ben.
I see the shock on Ben’s face, and it’s mirrored on my own.
It has to be really bad if they’re stopping the race.
“They need to clear the car from the tracks. They’re bringing a helicopter in to take Leandro to the hospital. It needs to land on the tracks as they can’t risk moving him.”