Page 89 of Knot So Lucky
The kind of heavy, loaded silence that only exists between twins who share too much history and too many secrets. The ambient sounds of the garage filter through the walls—distant engine tests, raised voices coordinating last-minute adjustments, the mechanical symphony of a racing facility in full operation.
"Do you truly want to drive?" Roran asks finally, voice so quiet I almost miss it.
The question makes me pause, forces me to examine motivations I've spent years avoiding.
Do I want to drive?
"I enjoy being a pit tech," I say carefully, thinking through each word. "It allows me to solve problems. To take things apart and understand how they work, then put them back together better than before. There's satisfaction in that. In being the person who makes success possible, even if I'm not the one in the spotlight."
I look at my hands—grease-stained even after scrubbing, callused from years of working with tools and machinery.
"I've never been in the spotlight," I continue. "Never put myself forward as the star. How would I even know if that's what I yearn for?"
But even as I say it, I remember something.
I pause, taking a deep breath that makes my ribs ache.
"When I was driving the simulation, though..." The admission comes quietly. More vulnerable. "Everything felt real as fuck. The adrenaline, the focus, the way time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously. To experience that high, even in a game..."
I trail off, but the yearning in my voice probably says more than words could.
"Even for that brief moment," I whisper, "I can only wonder what it would be like to experience it again and again. Notvirtually. Not hidden behind a screen. But actuallythere, in the car, on the track, with everything on the line."
Roran's lips quirk into something that might be a smile if he had the energy for it.
"I knew it was you who pulled that shit off," he mutters.
I huff, defensive instinct kicking in.
"I didn't make it obvious."
"No," he agrees. "You never do. But I figured it had to be you because who else is a secret badass capable of beating professional drivers without breaking a sweat?"
Despite everything—the poison, the pressure, the impossible situation—I smirk.
"Well played."
"Get some rest," I tell him, starting to move away from the bedside. "I'll try not to land in last place and embarrass the family name."
"If you can aim for top ten, that's all you need to do," Roran says, and there's genuine confidence beneath the exhaustion. "Top ten gets us into the Formula One league. Anything beyond that is bonus."
I laugh, the sound more nervous than amused.
"If I'm lucky enough to even reach top ten and not be dead last."
I'm turning to leave when his hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around my wrist with surprising strength for someone who can barely stand.
"Why did you never tell me?" he whispers. "About the incident."
My entire body goes still.
"What incident?"
"Thirteen." The single word lands like a bomb. "Why didn't you tell me what happened when you were thirteen?"
I don't say anything.
Can't say anything because words have abandoned me entirely, lodged somewhere between my chest and throat where they can't escape.
