Page 108 of Overtake
“I had to wait for the right one, Esme.”
The way he says it, so matter-of-factly, makes my heart hop a kerb.
“Ah!” She clasps her hands. “Like your father. Carlos waited for the right one too.” She pats my hand. “Now eat! Champions need strength.”
The food is unbelievable, and I swear I tasteloveandfamilyin every bite. Despite the high stone walls of the courtyard and the small army of security personnel outside, a handful of customers drift in. They greet Nico like he’s a family member. He introduces me, and asks about their children and work.
There’s Señor Hernandez, who owns the localferretería. Two university professors, Inma and Pastor. A family with two teenage boys, Antonio and Hectór, who excitedly exchange dap hugs with Nico and barely maintain their cool when he introduces me. Each person greets Nico warmly, exchanging brief updates about family members or neighborhood news.
I’m bloody impressed and jealous as each person treats him like a nephew returning from college rather than a world champion. No one reaches for phones or cameras. No one asks about championships or rivalries.
Here, we’re just Nico and Petra, two people sharing a meal.
“¡Papá!” A voice calls from inside. “Is Nico here?”
Roberto’s face lights up. His children appear—Mario and Lara—he explains as they join us. The siblings’ eyes go wide, but like the other teens, their excitement feels different from usual fan encounters.
“The suspension.” Mario gestures animatedly. “The way you controlled it through the hairpins¡que increíble!Like dancing with physics.”
“More like wrestling it.” I love their enthusiasm. These people understand racing at its core, the way Italy’stifosido. They appreciate the skill it takes for Nico and me to do what we do every week.
Lara leans forward. “Everyone in the neighborhood was screaming at the TV. Even Papá, and he usually only shouts duringfútbol.”
“That race was better than anyfútbolmatch I’ve seen in years,” Pastor declares from a neighboring table. “Though don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“The technical aspects alone.” Mario shakes his head and dives into a detailed analysis of differential settings that proves he knows his engineering.
“You should hear him during races.” Lara rolls her eyes. “He breaks down tire strategy better than the commentators.”
“Because I know what I’m talking about.” He turns back to us. “The way you both handled the safety car period? Perfect timing.”
He continues, and I catch Nico watching me. His gaze awakes that filthy feeling in my belly again.
I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
But I don’t buy it. “Try again, Bunny Boy.”
He chuckles. “I like seeing you happy.”
Which is about the sweetest thing anyone who isn’t my father has ever said to me. I look down and bit my lip. This isn’t the boy I raced on weekends. This is a man who’s equal parts sugar and spice, and I’m not prepared for what he’s doing to my heart.
A guitar’s soft notes weave through the courtyard. Lara’s moved to a chair in the corner, her fingers sliding acrossthe instrument’s strings. The atmosphere reminds me of the summer I spent at racing camp in Barcelona with Nico, Wyn, and Reece when we were all just kids dreaming of being champions.
“Remember that climbing wall in Barcelona?” I ask Nico. “The one Nia always dragged me to after training sessions?” She and their mum always spend summers with Nico and Carlos in Spain.
“Dragged?” He laughs. “You two conspired to give me heart attacks. Always going higher and pushing limits.”
“Your sister’s a good teacher.” The music shifts to something slower. “How is she? I know some shit happened last year.”
His expression turns serious. “She’s better. Sebastian, her boyfriend, has been very good to her.” Nico pauses and cocks his head. “You don’t know what happened?”
“Only that there was a problem with a stalker.”
So he tells me about her former neighbor lying in wait and carving up her face with a knife, about how Sebastian threw one of Nico’s helmets so hard it shattered the guy’s eye socket. And then the beach volleyball champion beat what was left of the man to a bloody pulp.
When he’s done, I swallow shock. “Good. I’m glad he destroyed that piece of shit.” I associate Nicolina with laughter, encouragement, and fearlessness. That girl has been through the wringer. First Junior, then breaking her pelvis, now this. “Sebastian sounds perfect for her.”
