Page 86 of Formula Dreams
A warbled sound issues from Francesca and I step in to wrap her in a hug.Her mother squeezes her shoulder, tears flowing freely.The doctor continues to talk, explaining the injury.
“We did everything we could, but the injuries Carlos sustained were too severe.The protective cell of the car held up, but the force of the crash caused catastrophic trauma to his brain.When a car stops that suddenly, the body can be held by belts, but the brain still moves inside the skull.That movement tore connections that simply can’t be repaired.”
I tune the doctor out.That’s an injury we all know too well in this sport.The cars we drive have become so sophisticated in their safety measures, creating a survival cell that can keep most of the body intact.And yet, they haven’t been able to figure out how to protect the brain from such sudden force.Carlos isn’t the first to perish this way.
A sudden wave of grief hits me because although I wasn’t super close to Carlos, we had become better friends.And no matter, any time we lose one of our own, whether we’re friends or enemies, it hits way down deep.
Nash swears under his breath.Bex covers her mouth with one hand, her eyes squeezing shut.Posey bows her head, and Lex rubs a hand over his face, features tight.
Francesca doesn’t move.I squeeze her gently and wait for a reaction—tears, anger, anything.But when she finally lifts her head, it’s worse than I imagined.Her eyes are flat, her face carved from stone.
“That’s it, then,” she says quietly.Her voice doesn’t break.It doesn’t even waver.“I’m done.”
The words hang there, cold and absolute.
Giulia makes a sound of dismay.“Oh, no… please don’t say that.You just—”
Francesca cuts her off, pulling away from me so violently, I have no choice but to let her go.I exchange a worried look with her brother.
“I caused this,” she says, loud enough to carry through the room.Everyone turns to look at her.“It’s my fault he’s dead.My wheel clipped him and that’s what caused the crash.”
“That’s not what happened,” I say, but she glares at me, silencing my words.
“Don’t.I don’t want speeches about how these things happen or that Carlos would want me to keep racing.I don’t care.”
I reach out to her, intent on keeping my thoughts to myself and only offering support, but she jerks away like my hand burns her.
Her eyes snap to mine, blazing now, not with tears but with fury.“Don’t you dare, Ronan.Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay.Don’t tell me to keep going.I’m done.”
The words gut me, not just because of what she’s saying but because of what’s buried inside them.She’s not angry at me—she’s terrified.She can’t bear the thought of ever going through this again.
I want to tell her the chances of this happening again are slim.That I’ll never let it happen.But I can’t promise her that, not in this world.Not when I’ve seen too many crashes, too many funerals.
So I stand there helpless and hollow as she turns on her heel and stalks toward the exit.
“Go after her,” Giulia encourages me.“She needs you more than any of us because you understand this.”
I nod at her mother, accept an encouraging smile from Alessio and take off after her.
“Francesca, wait,” I call, following her through the sterile corridor.My boots echo against the linoleum.I catch up just outside the doors, the cool air slamming into us as they slide open.
She spins on me, her hair whipping across her face.“I need you to leave me alone.”
“Like hell I will.”My voice cracks like thunder, louder than I meant.“You don’t get to walk away like this—not from me.”
Her eyes flash, but her words are low, controlled, terrifying in her calm delivery.“You have no say in this, Ronan.”
I stare at her, knowing nothing I say will make her feel better.I can only be there for her.
She narrows her eyes, frustration causing her face to redden.“You don’t mean enough to me offer an opinion.”
Ouch… that one stung, but I also know that’s grief talking.I’m a professional at rooting out lies from truth when words are intentionally thrown to hurt.I’m Vivienne Barnes’s son, after all.
Regret flashes in her amber eyes, but she remains resolved.“If you care about me at all, Ronan, you’ll let me go.You’ll let me have my space to deal with this.”
I blow out a breath of frustration.Giving up is not in my nature, but I get the impression that Francesca will hold it against me if I don’t give her the space she’s asked for.
For once, I don’t fight.Not when she looks like this—frayed at the edges, brittle enough to shatter if I push too hard.
