Page 132 of Full Throttle

She eased onto the motorway. Sun beat down on the road, shimmering in gasoline waves. Strange, she thought, for it to be so warm in December; she missed the frozen breeze off the Thames, the twinkling lights that cast candy-colored buses in icy white. Of course, warm weather also had the unfortunate effect of reminding her of that summer with Dominic, when they’d spent their days at the academy lazing on a picnic blanket or driving to the local town for fish and chips. A lump rose in her throat. At what point had Vance taken photographs of them together? Had it been out in public somewhere? Or something more intimate? God, even the thought of that…Her stomach climbed into her throat.

Dominic’s words in her hospital room came back to her. I thought about what it would cost to go against him, in terms of a career. So Vance had given an ultimatum: Stop seeing her, or leave the team. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by what he’d chosen. Dominic would rather cut off his hand than give up any advantage on track. It was what made him the best racer in the world.

Still.

She couldn’t deny that it stung.

And Vance had ultimately let him go anyway. Was that why Dominic had rekindled things with her this year? Because he had nothing left to lose?

Cap cleared his throat, regaining her attention.

“So.”

She merged left. “So.”

“About the other day,” Cap began.

He paused.

Juliette glanced sideways. In retrospect, she ought to have expected Cap to show up at the hospital. Baz hated conflict, and he’d developed a newfound sympathy for Cap after watching him sleep in the hospital waiting room, surviving on crisps and reruns of Peaky Blinders. “I won’t lie,” Baz had said. “It’s difficult to stay cross with him when he’s using a towel as a pillow.” Anyway, Cap had the uncanny ability to get his way in every scenario. If he wanted to give her a lift, he was giving her a lift.

No, what she didn’t expect was this. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her brother struggle for words. There was something distinctly uncomfortable about it, like watching a comedian blank on the punch line to a joke.

“Look,” Cap said finally, “I should have never made it sound like you were any less capable than anyone else on the track. It was a shit thing to say, and if you’d said that about me in reverse…” He exhaled. “I’m just really fucking sorry, and I don’t blame you if you want to hit me.”

Juliette gripped the steering wheel. “Did Baz tell you to apologize?”

“Baz,” Cap said gravely, “has threatened to chop off my balls and wear them as a bow tie.”

“Baz said that?”

Cap’s mouth quirked. Just a bit. “I wish you could have seen it. He was swearing so loudly in Spanish that I thought the nurses might ring the police.”

Juliette couldn’t help it; Cap’s smile was infectious. For a moment they shared a brief, conspiratorial look, then her smile faded.

She turned back to the road. “You really hurt me, you know. You’ve always been my biggest supporter, and to hear you say that I’m…” Her chest tightened. “Well, you know what you said.”

Cap shifted in his seat. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean it. If I’m honest…I’ve just been really fucking jealous. You’ve done so well this season. The trophies, the sponsors, the legions of fans…” He picked dog hair off the seat. “It’s not an excuse. But I want you to know that’s the only reason I said it.”

“Well.” Juliette cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

Cap nudged her. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but I will.” He paused. “Are we okay?”

Juliette took a left. “We’re okay.”

Or they would be, at least. Cap would have to do a hell of a lot of groveling, but she’d get there. She would forgive her brother almost anything. And anyway, she thought with rising satisfaction, it wouldn’t hurt to have an ace up her sleeve the next time someone had to sit next to Uncle Tim at Christmas dinner and listen to his conspiracy theories on how Big Pharma was injecting everyone with tracking chips.

Cap tapped a rhythm on his knee. A sign that he was debating whether to say something. And sure enough: “What did Hastings want earlier?”

Juliette flipped on the turn signal. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re done.”