Page 23 of Overtake
“How do you know anything happened?” Nico accepts the water bottle his physio holds out.
“Because you’re you.” She knows her brother can’t ignore injustice. “Because Papá involved himself. And because you hate F1 politics, right?”
“Right.” He moves to the weights, settling into position. “Don’t you have tiny humans to educate?”
“It’s Sunday night here.” A cat meows, then there’s a yowl and a crash. Sebastian curses in the background. “Okay, I do have wild critters to wrangle. But Conejo?Ten cuidado.”
“I’m always careful, Nia.”
“Liar.Te quiero.” She gives him her love.
“Te quiero también, Tortuga.”
As the call ends, Esteban adjusts Nico’s form. “Graham Pritchard won’t let this go easily.”
“I know.” The weights feel heavier today, fatigue from the race lingering in his muscles. “But someone had to do something. After F2, then yesterday...”
“And that someone had to be you?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You put yourself between her and the consequences.” Esteban’s voice stays low and neutral. “Just like Melbourne last year. Just like Barcelona.”
“Those were different.”
“Were they?” Another adjustment to his form. “Ten more. And they weren’t different. You’ve been watching her back since she entered F1.”
“Because it’s right and someone should,” Nico grits out, pushing through the burn.
“Because it’s right, or because it’s her?”
Nico nearly drops the weights. “What?”
“Focus. Seven more.” Esteban waits until he’s finished before continuing. “Three races in October. Sprint in Austin. Championship points on the line. You need to be clearheaded.”
“Iamclearheaded.”
“You’re protecting someone who could take your title.”
“I’m protecting what’s right for the sport.” But Nico remembers the ferocity in Petra’s eyes. She hadn’t appreciated his interference, and probably thinks he sees her as weak. He doesn’t.
“Maybe.” Esteban hands him a towel. “But Graham has a vindictive streak wider than Marina Bay, and you just painted a target on your back during the most crucial part of the season.”
Nico sits up and turns to confront his long-time friend. “You think I should have let it go?”
“I think you need to be prepared.” Esteban guides him toward the lat machine. “Graham will make this personal. Wyn will make it dirty. The press will make it dramatic. And Junior?—”
Nico tenses at the name. The memory of thirteen-year-old Nicolina’s tears flashes through his mind. He clenches his fists.
“Channel that anger into the workout,” Esteban says quietly. “And the racing. That’s what you’ve always done.”
Nico works in silence for several minutes, letting the familiar burn of exercise replace the burn of fury. Finally, he pauses between sets. “Sometimes I think I stay with WolfBett just to keep an eye on thatpendejo. Make sure he never gets near another naïve girl.”
“You stay because you’re a champion and kids need to see that success doesn’t require being like the Pritchards.”
“Or maybe I stay because someday he’ll slip up again, and I’ll be there.”
“Stop. That path leads nowhere good. Focus on what matters now. Austin. The championship. Keeping your head while Graham tries to remove it.”
