Page 124 of Until You Say Stay
The crowd is screaming, fireworks bursting overhead in cascade after cascade of light and color.
This is everything I’ve worked for. Everything I’ve sacrificed for. The vindication, the proof that I’m still one of the best drivers in the world, that eighteen months on the sidelines didn’t dull my edge.
But as I stand there soaked in champagne with a trophy in my hands and the crowd cheering, there’s one face that won’t leave my mind.
Lark’s.
She’s somewhere in this circuit. She performed tonight. She sang that song.
And I need to find her.
CHAPTER 31
LARK
People around me are jumping, waving Ferrari flags, losing their absolute minds. The massive screens throughout the paddock area are showing replays of his final defensive moves, that last corner where he held off the other driver by pure will and racecraft. The Ferrari team behind the barriers is going ballistic, engineers and mechanics hugging each other and shouting.
P18 to P1.He did it.
And I’m standing here among strangers trying not to cry because I’m so proud of him I could burst. This is what he looks like when he fights for something. When he lets himself care enough to risk everything.
When he finally parks and kills the engine, there’s this long moment where he just sits there in the car, hands still on the wheel like he can’t quite believe what just happened.
Then he’s climbing out, yanking off his helmet, and even from where I’m standing I can see that grin. My heart does something painful and wonderful in my chest and the tears I’ve been holding back start streaming down my face. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy for someone else in my entire life.
The Ferrari team swarms him immediately. Everyone wants to hug him, congratulate him, be part of this moment. Someone throws him a Ferrari cap and he’s laughing, pure unbridled joy. Luca jumps on him, nearly taking them both down, and Jack’s just laughing and smiling like he can’t stop.
The crowd is deafening now, thousands of people chanting his name. People around me are shouting about the drive of a lifetime. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand but more tears keep coming. Happy tears. Proud tears. They usher him toward the podium and I push through the crowd, getting as close as I can to the barriers.
When he climbs the steps and holds up that trophy, the entire circuit explodes in noise and color. Fireworks burst overhead in reds and golds, and the roar is so loud it vibrates through my entire body. His eyes scan the crowd below. And then they lock onto mine.
He sees me. He knows I’m here.
JACK
Her eyes lock onto mine and everything else falls away.
The roar of the crowd, the announcers blaring, Luca saying something beside me about the drive being fucking magic. None of it registers. All I can see is Lark pressed against the barriers below, tears streaming down her face, hands covering her mouth. She’s laughing and crying at the same time, looking up at me and the whole world narrows to just her.
I grab the champagne bottle and spray it, the foam exploding everywhere. Luca’s soaked and laughing, spraying me rightback, and the team is going wild below us. The crowd is losing their minds, chanting and cheering.
My eyes find Lark again in the crowd. She’s still crying, still smiling up at me, and everything else is just noise. I hold up the trophy and the circuit explodes with cheers, but I’m looking at her when I do it.
The second we’re dismissed, I’m moving. Down the steps, pushing through Ferrari team personnel trying to congratulate me, engineers wanting to talk about the drive, photographers shouting for one more photo.
Thomas appears at my elbow looking like he just won the lottery. “Jack,” he says, and he’s more excited than I’ve ever seen him, “holy shit, that was incredible. The media wants you, Ferrari executives are waiting, we need to?—”
“Give me ten minutes,” I say, not stopping.
“Jack—”
But I’m already gone, weaving through the crowd. My heart is hammering harder than it did during the entire race, harder than it did on that final corner when I was defending position with everything I had. I’m still in my champagne-soaked race suit, scanning desperately for that blue dress I saw her wearing.
Where is she?
I push past security trying to redirect me toward the media pen. People are reaching out, trying to congratulate me, slap my back, get selfies. I barely register any of them.
Then I see her pushing through the crowd toward me with the same desperate energy, and our eyes meet across the chaos.
