Page 98 of Racing Hearts
“Oh, thank God you’re okay.” He let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Your mother has been frantically calling me. They wouldn’t let me over to you. Fuck, I’m going to have words with Francesco next week. They need to up their quality controls.”
“I know, I’m sorry. The car is going to be out of commission for a while,” I whispered.
“The car? Luca,fuck the car, you could have beenkilledout there.” My father’s grip on me tightened, his voice filled with a mix of concern and anger. “None of this is your fault, son. Racing is dangerous, and accidents happen. What matters most is that you’re safe.” I leaned into his embrace, feeling the weight of his words.
“I know but the car might not be drivable next week.” I shrugged. “It’ll put me even further back in the standings.”
“Then you’ll get them the week after, Luca. What matters is that you’re okay.”
Who was this imposter standing in front of me? Where was the fire-and-brimstone racer who used to scold me for tenth-place finishes in karting? Who once made me run simulator laps until my knuckles blistered because I missed a braking point?
“I don’t know, Dad, it’s so many points to make up.” My throat tightened as the words spilled out, bitter and hot. “I’ve let the team down. I’ve let you down…” A lump formed in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes. I hated disappointing my father. I’d done it so much this season, and with the Rennen contract, I knew he was furious with me.
He pulled back, just far enough to meet my eyes “Let me down? Is that what you think, Luca? No, son. I’ve let you down,” my father admitted. “Instead of listening to you, trying to understand what you were going through, I doubled down on your racing because it’s what my father did to me, and I’m sorry. Seeing you out there in that burning car… I’m not going to lie, if you told me today you wanted to quit, I’d be okay with it. I hated knowing that you were in that car because I forced you to be in it.”
I looked away, down at the bandage on my forearm. The ache in my shoulder. The burn of soot still lingering in my nostrils. Had my father forced me?
Silence stretched between us.
I thought back to all of the amazing memories I’d had as a child, the races won, the trophies sitting on the desks at home, the fun photos adorning the walls of my apartment.
The painting Georgia had given me.
“When I was a kid, I wanted nothing more than to be like you, to race fast cars and be on the tallest podium step, but over the last few years, it’s been hard to remember that dream. And then when I heard you offer to coach Georgia several years ago… the dream started to feel like a lie.”
“Oh, Luca, I wish you’d told me about that. I only offered to coach Georgia because I wanted to give you an opportunity to have a new coach, get some fresh perspective. But when she turned me down, and you reaffirmed you wanted me as a coach, I figured I was wrong to offer it to her and let it go.”
“Well, if I’m learning anything this week,” I sighed, “it’s that confronting your problems head on? Definitely the better option.”
He pulled me into a tight hug. “Luca, I’m so proud of you. Your mother is proud of you. The more I think about it, I think it’s good you’re going to Rennen, getting a fresh start at a team where you can make your own legacy.”
I nodded, throat too tight to answer. For the first time in years, it felt like I wasn’t trying to earn my father’s love. I just had it. Unconditionally.
“Now, what do you say we head to the Hermes garage and watch your girlfriend kick your teammate’s ass?”
A slow grin curled on my lips. “Sounds like a plan.”
As soon as I was given the all-clear, my father escorted me back to the garage so we could finish watching the race. Together. Just how we used to watch races when I was a kid.
It was lap sixty, and Georgia was finally able to take P1 from her brother, only for him to take it back from her moments later. Both of their tires were old, so it was down to driver skill to determine which Dubois would take home the victory.
The crowd was electric. Each time the two of them switched places, a new wave of screams tore through the grandstands. They hit the final straight side by side.
As Georgia and Henri crossed the checkered flag side by side, I saw the officials hovering around their monitors, reviewing the footage of the race. For the first time this season, the finish had to be reviewed. My father and I held our breath, waiting for the final verdict.
Finally, they called it.
Georgia had won the race.
She parked in the winner’s spot, launching herself out of her car. Henri was already there, pulling her into a hug.
Then, Henri looked toward me. His eyes found mine across the crowd, and something passed between us. A moment. An understanding. He gestured toward me, subtle but unmistakable.
He was sending her to me.
Georgia’s eyes searched the crowd, landing on me like I was the only person there. Her expression melted, relief, joy, disbelief, and then she ran. I barely had time to brace before she launched herself into my arms, knocking the breath out of me in the best way possible.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again!” her voice muffled against my shoulder.
