Page 138 of Racing for Redemption
She’s standing in the common area, animated in conversation with a kid—can’t be more than eighteen—who’s nodding enthusiastically at whatever she’s saying. Blake stands nearby with another man in a sharp suit, shaking hands over what looks like… a contract?
My curiosity piqued, I make my way over. The kid notices me first, his brows lifting slightly. He’s all lean muscle and eager energy, like a coiled spring. He’s in the junior formulae, for sure.
“William!” Violet says, her professional smile warming to something more personal for just a flash, before returning to Team Principal mode. “Perfect timing. I’d like you to meet someone.”
I extend my hand. “William Foster.”
“I know,” the kid blurts, then immediately looks embarrassed. “I mean—I’m Ethan Jordan. It’s an honor, sir.”
I laugh. “Sir? Christ, I’m only twenty-four. Call me William.”
Violet watches our exchange with something like satisfaction in her eyes. “Ethan is our new reserve driver, and he’ll be replacing Nicholas next year.”
I raise my own eyebrows, processing this new information. “That’s fantastic, man. Congratulations.” I mean it, despite my surprise. “Where are you racing now?”
“F3,” Ethan replies, standing a little straighter. “I’m leading the championship by a few points.”
“He’s been exceeding expectations all season,” Violet adds, and the pride in her voice isn’t lost on me. She’s like a proud parent right now, and it’s adorable.
“Nicholas know yet?” I ask quietly, glancing around to ensure the man in question isn’t lurking nearby.
Violet’s expression tightens. “He does. And he’s pulling Gritt Tires’ sponsorship for the remaining races. A parting gift, apparently.”
“Bit childish for a twenty-eight-year-old multimillionaire,” I mutter.
“Bit,” she agrees, a sardonic twist to her lips that makes me want to kiss her, right here in the middle of the motorhome.
Instead, I turn back to Ethan. “Let me guess—simulator time tomorrow? First time at our headquarters?”
He nods eagerly.
“I’ll join you. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
His face lights up like I’ve offered him the moon. “That would be amazing! I’ve been studying your telemetry data, especially from Silverstone. The way you took Turn 6 was—”
The kid’s enthusiasm is infectious, and we end up discussing racing lines and brake balance as we move to the seating area. Ethan absorbs everything like a sponge, asking smart questions that reveal he’s done his homework. By the time Blake joins us, I’m genuinely impressed.
“Keeping our new talent entertained?” Blake asks, settling into a chair.
“More like he’s schooling me on my own driving,” I reply. “Kid knows his stuff.”
Ethan blushes. “I’ve just been watching a lot.”
Blake chuckles. “Violet had the same impression when William joined earlier this year. Wasn’t expecting such maturity from someone his age.” He winks at me. “Seems we’re collecting grown-up whiz kids now.”
“Building for the future,” I say, and it feels good to imagine being part of that future. Being something permanent at Colton Racing.
The weeks pass quickly after that. I take Ethan under my wing, showing him the ins and outs of the team beyond what happens in the garage. He shadows me during media days, soaking up how I deflect the more intrusive questions. I introduce him to my training regimen, and we spend hours in the simulator together, comparing notes and pushing each other.
“You’re good with him,” Violet tells me one night when it’s just us, tangled in hotel sheets after a race weekend. “He really looks up to you.”
I trace patterns on her bare shoulder. “He reminds me of me, before all the bullshit with Paul, and minus the anger management issues, of course.”
She doesn’t press for details, and I’m grateful. Some wounds are still raw.
The points drought continues through the final races, but I’m consistently knocking on the door—P11 in Singapore, P13 in Brazil after a strategic gamble with tires that almost paid off, if not for a last-minute safety car. Never last, always fighting. It’s not the headline-grabbing results I dreamed of, but there’s a quiet satisfaction in wringing every last drop of performance from an underperforming car.
By the time we arrive in Abu Dhabi for the season finale, there’s a different energy in the garage. James has flown in, ostensibly to watch the race, but really to hammer out contract details with Violet. My current one-year deal expires after this race, and the thought of officially committing to Colton Racing for longer makes my stomach flip in the best way.
