Page 98 of Kiss & Collide
She’d had something with him … and it had been amazing. And she’d thrown it away with both hands because she was too scared to acknowledge how much she really cared about him.
“It’s not going to be easy,” she murmured.
“No,” Will acknowledged. “But it’ll be worth it. I promise.”
40Miami, Florida
Chase let himself back into his luxury hotel suite and dropped his shoulder bag with a sigh, surveying the room. Across from him, through a wall of glass, the skyline of Miami glittered.
He crossed to the glossy black bar where liquor bottles glinted subtly under the recessed lighting, and poured himself a finger of scotch. Then he dropped onto the plush white leather sofa and propped his feet on the glass-topped coffee table. There was a massive flat-screen on the wall, but he didn’t turn it on. Instead, he just tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling.
If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be here in this suite, flush with new sponsor money, driving for one Formula One team with an offer from another team—one of the best teams—on the table, he’d have laughed in their face.
He’d done it. He’d achieved everything he’d ever wanted. Before Miami, he’d stopped in New York for a round of meetings with Jeff. He was about to line up enough in sponsorship deals to make his head spin. He hadn’t just hung on to his spot in F1; he was about to ascend to the apex of the sport.
So why was he sitting here filled with misery?
Because she was still gone.
He hadn’t heard a word from Violet since he’d walked out of her hotel room in Mexico City. Today had been open practice, so he thought he might finally see her at the track, but she never showed.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and growled in frustration before shoving himself back up to his feet. It was time to quit mooning over her. He was in Miami to race, and that’s what he needed to focus on. Tomorrow was qualifying. He’d order some room service and get a decent night’s sleep, and he would absolutelynotkeep obsessing over Violet.
He was in the bedroom, in the middle of digging sleep pants and a T-shirt out of his suitcase, when he heard a knock at the door of the suite. Immediately his pulse picked up. These days, for security reasons, only a small handful of people knew where his hotel suite was, and an even smaller handful would show up unannounced.
It might be her. It was probably her. God, he wanted it to be her.
When he swung the door open, Violet was standing on the other side and something clenched tight inside his chest suddenly released. She washere.
This was a different Violet, the one he remembered from last season. She was wearing shredded black jeans and a faded Ramones T-shirt. She hadn’t straightened her hair, and it tumbled in tousled black waves around her shoulders.
“Hi,” she said, eyes wide and fixed on him.
“Hey.”
She swallowed hard enough that he could see her throat move. “Can I come in?” He was usually the one to ask that.
Wordlessly, he moved aside. When he’d fastened the security latch, he turned to see her over by the wall of glass, looking out at the view.
“Nice room.”
“Formula One doesn’t suck.”
She didn’t reply, just rubbed her palms down her thighs.
“What’s up, Violet?” he finally said, to break the silence. Violet wasn’t one for lingering goodbyes, so just the fact that she was here sent a tendril of hope sprouting up in his heart, but he couldn’t bear to get ahead of himself. She’d been pretty final when she’d sent him packing. If she’d changed her mind, she was going to have to say so, and explain why.
“I’m not good at this,” she murmured, running one fingertip down the glass.
“At what?”
“Apologies. I owe you one.”
Part of him wanted to accept it immediately. Fine. All is forgiven. Just come back. But as impulsive as he was on the track, some sense of self-preservation had him hesitating now. He needed more than “I’m sorry,” which she hadn’t said yet. So instead of pulling her into his arms and keeping her there, he stayed silent, leaning against the back of the sofa, watching her shoulders rise and fall as she considered.
“I, um … things are complicated. It’s about more than just you. And me.” She paused and cleared her throat. “You and me.”
“What else is it about?” he finally asked. If she said Ian’s name, he was going to start breaking shit.
