Page 68 of Away We Go

When I can’t be there…

And she makes the best cookies.

Cherry

Cookies, you say?

Fine. I’ll go to your place.

Now, go focus on the race.

Nicky

I’ll try…

RACE NINE

Canada

Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, Montreal

20–22 June

CHAPTER 14

Nicky

“You’re coming with me.”

The command is out of my mouth before my brain can think better of it, and by the heat creeping up Cherry’s neck, I know I’ve said the wrong thing.

“Why can’t I go with the team?”

It’s a fair question and one I don’t have a suitable answer for. All I know is that ever since she’s been sick, I’ve wanted—needed—to keep her close. And it’s most likely smothering her.

“You can sleep on the private plane. Get your rest.”There. That sounds reasonable.

“It’s a day flight. Why would I need to sleep?”

Gosh, she’s infuriating. Asking all these reasonable questions.

I crouch down on the floor next to where she’s packing her suitcase. When I’d first found out she was planning on going to the Montreal race, I’d been very unhappy, to put it mildly. It’s like she’d learnt nothing from the Madrid debacle when she’d turned up ready to work…while battling pneumonia. And sure, she can argue it wasalmostpneumonia, but when I’d gotten that update from theteam doctor, I’d almost lost it. It was a miracle I’d got second place in that race, what with my thoughts stuck on the worst-case scenario, envisioning Cherry ending up alone in a hospital somewhere.

“Look.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and pray for patience. “I know you want to come this weekend—”

“We’ve been through this,” she grits out through clenched teeth.

I put my hand up to stop her incoming rant. “Yes, I know. I think we need to be extra careful and make sure you get enough rest. We don’t want a relapse.”

“Who’s this ‘we’?” she mutters under her breath, throwing her clothes into her suitcase with more force than necessary.

“We, as in you and me. I need you to be healthy. I need you to be okay.”

Something in my voice catches her attention and she stops her aggressive packing to stare up at me.

“Fine,” she whispers. “I’ll come with you.”

I smother a grin, not risking poking the bear—such a cute little bear—and rise to standing. A quick exit is necessary to avoid her changing her mind.

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