Page 142 of Hot Lap
Rather than punch his brother in the bollocks, which he definitely deserves, Reece gives him the space he needs to saywhat he wants to say. It’s something he’s always tried to give Wyn — space, freedom, and breathing room. He hates that he hasn’t always succeeded. But now? Well, bloody hell if Wyn hasn’t just returned the favor.
Reece has feared they’d never bridge the divide between them, but maybe that’s not the case.
Wyn exhales, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I know the timing wasn’t great, media shitstorm and all, but someone had to shove the truth into the light.”
“Why give it to Luca and not Graham?”
“Because Maiken didn’t back down from Dad. Despite the headlines and the vultures and everything he’s thrown at her, she hasn’t run away.” He looks up. “That kind of backbone deserves justice. Plus I figure she’s pretty much here to stay.”
Reece swallows, a knot of emotion forming at the base of his throat. “Mai’s the best person I’ve ever known, Wyn.”
“Yeah. I get that now.”
There’s a pause. The kind of silence that fills up with years of things unsaid.
Finally, Reece nods. “Thanks for helping.”
His brother shrugs again. “Just… don’t make me regret it, yeah?”
Reece smirks. “Not bloody likely.”
Wyn tips his chin toward the paddock exit. “Better go. She’s probably halfway to magnificent.”
“She’s always magnificent.”
That earns him a quiet laugh as Wyn peels off toward WolfBett’s garage. “I believe it, man.”
“Hey, bruv?”
Wyn turns. “Yeah?”
“I’m here if you need me. For whatever. Okay?”
Wyn’s brow furrows and he looks down, then nods, sniffs. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” He turns around and jogs up the paddock.
Reece watches him go, heart both a little lighter and a bit heavier. It wasn’t the grand reconciliation he’d hoped for, but it’s an opening. Maybe it’s even a sign that Wyn’s considering shaking off Graham’s shackles and finally grasping some freedom of his own. All Reece can do is be present when his little brother looks to him for an exit strategy.
With a sigh, Reece heads toward the transport that’ll take him back to the hotel, and to his wife. He can’t fight that battle for Wyn, but he can lay down a proper racing line for his baby brother to follow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
We’re halfwaydown the dock when a woman says, “So you’re Maiken.”
I stop and turn slowly. I have all the time in the world to acknowledge her existence. Or not. My spine straightens, shoulders rolling back as I shift my weight onto one hip, the universal signal that I'm about to become someone's problem.
Peony Jones-Musgrove is posed like a swan in a silver sheath dress that’s trying too hard to whisperold Hollywoodbut lands somewhere closer toaward show seat-filler. Her hair’s blown out and cemented into place. She’s on the arm of that older man I saw her with near the Ravn Racing garage. He’s the team owner, I think? Probably. His smile says, “My hobbies are cigars and tax evasion.”
Peony excuses herself from his side and crosses toward me in stilettos that look more lethal than functional. She smiles like a plastic daisy, all teeth and no life. “I just wanted to say…” She trails off, tilts her head like we’re in on some shared joke. “There’s no reason why we can’t be friendly.”
Friendly.
I arch a brow, already bristling, but she barrels ahead.
“We move in the same circles now. It’s bound to happen. I thought maybe we could keep things civil?” Her right brow arches and I’m pretty sure it’s unintentional bitch-itude showing. Confirmed when that fake smile returns and she adds, slow and deliberate like I’m extra stupid, “Especially for Reece’s sake.”
There it is. Her honesty showing through the pretty packaging.Be nice, for your husband. Stay in your lane and know your place, which is beneath me, or I’ll find a way to make him pay.She’s a self-serving cunt wrapped in pearls and pretty words.
I flash her a smile that could slice granite. “You’re adorable when you pretend we’re peers.”
