Page 125 of Over the Limit

His jaw clenches and I can see him bite back every bit of temper he has—and for Rossi, I know that’s not exactly the easiest thing to do. “At this point, it doesn’t matter what I say or what the FIA determined, you’re going to believe whatever it is you want to believe, aren’t you?”

“That’s a cop-out answer if ever I’ve heard one. Can’t be accused of anything if you don’t commit to anything, right?”

“I deserve that,” he says stoically, the muscles in his jaw pulsing.

“You deserve a lot more than that.”

“Blair. Please.”

I stare at him, my heart racing and head hurting, emotions in a constant eddy.

“Can I sit down next to you?” he asks, motioning to the rock.

I glance down at the rock and then back up to him. No. Yes.

But we need to get this over with before anyone actually gets hurt. “I can’t forgive you for what you did.”

He nods, that’s the only answer he gives me. “May I?”

I struggle internally. I know that Lachlan has said to let it go, has made his own peace with the incident in his own way, but that doesn’t fucking mean I’m as easygoing or as forgiving as he is. The struggle is real for me. “That depends,” I finally say. “Am I getting Rossi or am I getting Oliver?”

“You’re getting the man who doesn’t know how the fuck to feel when it comes to what went down.”

So Rossi. Got it. Then I’ll give him Blair Fucking Carmichael.

“What went down? You mean the part where I hung on as long as I possibly could to you, but you aren’t one to be hung on to? Or the part where you treated me like less than because feeding your ego was more important than maintaining your relationship? Or how about the part where you belittled me and the things that were important to me because you just couldn’t find any fucks to give about anyone or anything but yourself? You mean those parts?”

He blows out a long, steady breath, and then takes a seat beside me without asking this time. “How about the part where you cheated on me?”

“First of all, I didn’t cheat on you and second, should I ask you the same question? Because don’t ask questions you can’t answer yourself.” He looks over and meets my eyes but doesn’t speak. “I never cheated on you, Oliver. And I never lied to you. We just simply grew up and grew apart.”

“And if I would have fought for you? Would it have made a difference?” he asks.

“Maybe. For a little while, but truth be told, Oliver, I don’t like the way you fight if fighting involves wrecking your cars and putting everyone at risk.”

“Blair—”

I hold up my hand to stop him. “You don’t want this. Maybe as a teen you did, maybe you like the idea of it, of having someone who knows the real you and the real life that you left behind here when you went off to become an elite F1 driver, but not anymore. You aren’t ready for a serious girlfriend.”

“Glad you know what I want.”

I study him. “I know you better than anyone so, yes, I do know. And . . . it wasn’t me anymore.” I draw in a long, deep breath and try to figure out how we got here. “I’ve never been angrier at you in my life.”

“We’ve known each other ten years and you’ve never been angrier at me than when you think I tried to crash into Evans. Wow. That says a lot.”

“You could have killed both of you.” I swallow over the lump of fear that thought creates. “And yes, while I’m not in love with you, Oliver, I’ll always love you in some capacity. I do care about you and what happens to you. But my love for you doesn’t give you the right to ruin what I have simply because it’s not yours anymore.”

He stares out at the valley below, the silence stretching between us. It gives me time to calm down. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “For a lot of things.”

I know how hard that is for him to say. Just as I know I have to say something as well. “Thank you for keeping my secret. That would have been hard for you, but I appreciate that you respect me and my love for my job enough that you didn’t put me or Lachlan on blast in the media.”

“I thought about it.”

“I’m sure you did.” Rossi wouldn’t be Rossi if he hadn’t.

He hangs his head for a beat, staring at a rock he’s picked up and is playing with. “The past few weeks have been . . . rough. Eye-opening. A bunch of shit I don’t want to deal with but was forced to. The FIA. Reprimand meetings with Johann and Apex. The fallout with my contract talks. The media shitstorm.” He pauses and his voice softens. “And realizing you were actually not mine anymore.”

I want to believe the events of the past few weeks have changed him for the better, but I’m skeptical. Words are easy to say. Actions are the proof I need.