Page 85 of Racing for Redemption
“Tell them the truth,” Violet says. “Hard work, talent, and a team that never stopped believing.”
Our hands brush as I move past her toward the changing room, kindling the fire that is burning within me. It's an innocent gesture, but it's yet another thing adding up to my gradual lack of control when it comes to her.
First big qualifying. History made for Colton Racing, yet all I want right now is none of that.
Chapter 24
Racing for Redemption
William
Iadjust my noise-cancelling headphones, letting the heavy guitar riffs wash over me.
It’s the same album Violet and I listened to that night in Birmingham—the underground metal band that had her hesitantly headbanging by the end of the show. I close my eyes, remembering her face in the dim light, the way she’d looked at me when I slipped those high-fidelity earplugs into her palm, our fingers brushing. The memory burns brighter than it should on race day, when every neuron should be focused on the track ahead. But somehow, that memory centers me. Grounds me in a way pre-race rituals never have before.
The garage comes into view as I round the corner, already thrumming with pre-race energy. Mechanics perform their final checks, engineers huddle over data screens, and in the midst of it all—Violet. She sits alone in the far corner, tablet in hand, probably checking last-minute emails or race projections. Themorning sun catches her profile, highlighting the sharp line of her jaw, the slight furrow between her brows as she concentrates.
I pull my headphones down to rest around my neck, the music fading as I approach her.
“Shouldn’t you be mingling with the bigwigs in hospitality?” I ask, leaning against the workbench beside her.
She looks up, momentarily startled, before her features settle into something warmer. “Shouldn’t you be in your pre-race zen bubble?”
I tap my headphones. “I was. Decided human interaction might be nice for a change.”
“Bold choice on race day.” She scans my face, assessing. “Nervous?”
“Terrified,” I admit with a half-smile. “Excited. Ready. All of the above.”Couldn't get any sleep, because you're in my every waking thought—sweet torture during a night I should have rested.
She sets her tablet aside, giving me her full attention. The gesture shouldn’t feel as significant as it does.
“P12 is a strong starting position for us,” she says, slipping into Team Principal mode. “But I need you to be smart today, William. This isn’t about heroics.”
“No heroics,” I agree. “Just clean racing.”
“Especially with Bertrand.” Her voice hardens slightly. “What he tried in qualifying was borderline dangerous. He’ll do worse than impeding today if given the opportunity." Our complaints to the stewards earned him a two place grid penalty, and he'll bestarting behind me, so I inherited P12, Colton Racing's best start in a decade.
I nod, surprised by her protectiveness. “I’ll steer clear.”
“And Nicholas—” She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. “He tends to be… aggressive in the first corner. Especially after a poor qualifying, which is always the case.”
“You mean he divebombs like an idiot and takes out half the backmarkers and field?”
A flash of a smile crosses her face. “I couldn’t possibly comment on the driving style of my own driver.”
“But you’re not denying it.” I chuckle.
“Just… stay away from him. If you see him in the rearview mirrors, juke to the other side.” The concern in her eyes makes my chest tighten. “I want to see both cars cross the finish line.” Her gaze falls to the floor for a split second as she tries to be nonchalant.
She’s worried. Not just about the team’s performance, but about me. The realization warms something in my chest.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out to poke her cheek gently. “Stop frowning. You’ll get wrinkles.” That makes her look even more beautiful, lines that show how expressive she is despite hiding it.
She swats my hand away, but there’s no heat in it. “I’m not frowning.”
“You absolutely are.” I lean closer, invading her personal space just enough to make her eyes widen slightly. “Relax, boss. I’ve got this locked and loaded. Only way I don’t finish is if some asshole puts me in the wall, or the car breaks down.”
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”
