Page 86 of Knot So Lucky
Jenna laughs—short and sharp and completely lacking humor.
"If you come outafterdoing this race on your brother's behalf and pushing us officially onto the Formula One race list?" She shakes her head. "I think firing you would only result in them upgrading your role as our team's new driver."
She leans in closer, hands coming up to grip my shoulders. The touch is firm, grounding, and for a moment, I let myself lean into the support.
"Rory," she whispers, using my alias but speaking tome. "Aren't you fucking tired of hiding shit?"
The question hits harder than any physical blow could.
Aren't you tired?
Yes.
God, yes.
I'm exhausted from maintaining the performance. From pitching my voice lower and binding my chest, and taking suppressants that make my head foggy and my emotions dull. From pretending to be someone I'm not for the sake of doing what I love.
From living in the shadows while my twin brother gets to race openly, chasing his dreams without constantly looking over his shoulder for exposure.
I'm so fucking tired.
I nod slowly, the admission feeling like surrendering something fundamental.
Jenna's expression shifts—satisfaction mixed with fierce determination.
"I have connections," she says quietly, voice carrying the weight of a promise. "And I can do my part to ensure that whatever happens, I have your back. But I also know how much this race means to your brother."
She's giving me an out. Acknowledging that racing in Roran's place is a choice, not an obligation.
But we both know there's no real choice here.
My brother is drugged and suffering in his room. Our team needs someone to race in less than—I check the nearest clock—forty-five minutes. And I'm the only person with both the skill and the desperate need to prove that I belong here.
"I'll do it," I hear myself say.
The words feel monumental and inevitable simultaneously.
"But I need to check on Roran first," I add, because regardless of racing obligations, he's my twin and he's hurt, and that takes priority over everything else.
Jenna nods, already pulling out her tablet to start coordinating.
"I can have everything ready in fifteen minutes. More than enough time before the race."
Fifteen minutes to prep a car and a driver for the most important qualifier of the season.
It should be impossible. Would be impossible with any other team.
But we're Apex Racing, and we've built our reputation on doing the impossible with style.
"Perfect," I say, already moving toward the door. "And Jenna?"
She looks up from her tablet.
"Thank you. For having my back."
Her smile is fierce and proud.
"Always."
