Page 4 of Flat Out
There were thin straps over her shoulders, a bodice that clung to her body like devotion, and a flowy skirt catching in the breeze, light and lace and fuckingimpossible.A veil flowedbehind her, pulled gently by the wind like it didn’t want to let her go. Her hands were clasped together just under her chin. Eyes wide and lips parted.
She looked like she was about to cry. Or scream, or run, orwait forever.
She looked like home, like Heaven, like every moment I never let myself want.
The radio exploded?—
“CALLUM FRASER, YOU ARE A WORLD CHAMPION!” Dom’s voice cracked with emotion. “YOU FUCKING DID IT! WORLD CHAMPION! YOU HEAR ME? WORLD FUCKING CHAMPION!”
But I barely heard him, because all I could see washer. I didn’t even care that I didn’t do a victory lap before parking in Parc Fermé. I slowed right in front of where she stood cheering for me and let go of the wheel to make a heart with my hands.
She gave me the most beautiful smile before tossing her head back and laughing. I couldn’t hear her over the crowd, but I knew what that sounded like. It was a laugh reserved just for our private moments, a sound of joy that would never belong to anyone but me.
And in that moment—helmet still on, heart about to burst—I knew.
It wasn’t just a fantasy. It wasn’t just love. It was her.
She wasn’t just the girl I wanted. She was thelifeI wanted. My girl, my future,my wife.
I opened my mouth to say her name, to tell her I was coming and that I was hers. But then I blinked, and when my eyes opened again, she was holding a baby on her hip. Dark curly hair and big hazel eyes identical to Auri’s blinked at me, a chubby hand raised and a big smile on her face. Two top teeth were peeking out and her full cheeks were rosy.
That wasour baby. A perfect combination of us both.
I killed the engine just as raindrops started to fall, ready to run to them and pull them into my arms. The rain picked up, falling harder, faster. A curtain of water came down across the track, and they started to blur.
I couldn’t see her face anymore. Couldn’t see the baby. Panic rose in my throat like a scream. They wereright there.
I blinked, and the circuit was gone–but not really, because suddenly I was driving again. The colors around me shifted. The grip was off. The barriers looked all wrong.
Oh.
This wasn’t Silverstone. It was Montreal. I was headed into Turn 9. The chicane, the wall, the moment everything broke.
And she was there again, this time on the other side of the track. Still holding the baby, smiling and waving, barely visible through the rain.
Just as I was about to pass them while approaching Turn 9, I turned the wheel, but it felt loose. It was too sharp, too late, and the rear gave out. I took the chicane wide–an amateur mistake–and my wheels hit loose gravel. Suddenly I was airborne.
There was no sound, no weight, as the world flipped once, twice, and then–impact. The crash didn’t feel real. It felt like hitting a wall in slow motion. My body jerked forward, harness tightening around my chest. My helmet slammed against the headrest. Everything inside me protested, but no sound left my mouth.
I blinked through the blur of smoke, wet visor, and flickering warning lights. Then I spotted Aurélie waving her free arm from across the track, where she stood on the edge of the runoff, in front of the goddamn barriers.
What was she doing? She was going to get herself killed.
“No,” I whispered, but the sound was nothing more than a rasp.
She looked frantic–wide eyes, dress soaked from the rain, hair plastered to her neck. Her mouth opened in a scream I couldn’t hear, butfelt. Her arms curled protectively around our baby, a pink bow I hadn’t noticed before crushed from the movement.
I tried to raise my hand, to tell her I wasfine, to unclip these godforsaken restraints, but nothing moved. Aurélie gaped at me before she took off in a run. No hesitation in her steps, veil billowing behind her and white dress whipping in the wind. Our baby was cradled against her chest.
“Stop—” I tried to yell. “Auri, STOP!” But my voice didn’t exist here.
I fought against the five-point harness—desperate, wild, tearing at it with everything I had—but I was stuck.
And then I saw it all unfolding. In my periphery, there was a flash of orange.Morel. He came around the corner too fast, the visibility low from sheets of rain.
His car was a blur. Auri and the baby were in the center of the track in soft shades of pink and white.
And I was trapped.
