Page 44 of Homecoming

“Bring back the car. Bring back the car.”

It was normal that he repeated his words two times in a row, so as to make sure I heard him over the incredible noise that was always present on the track.

But that time, I could hear the slight underlining of nerves in his voice.

“Everything good?” I asked, even though I knew damn well it wasn’t. I was out for only half an hour, if that even.

We were in Japan, at the start of the weekend, and for the first time in a long time, I was feeling good.

Light.

There was no weight pressing down on my shoulders.

Lola knew everything and she was still at my side.

And the Formula One ruling body had cottoned on to what was happening inside the team and put an effective stop to it.

We got slapped with a hefty fine, and Max was black flagged from three of the next races.

He was livid, especially about the fact that it was becoming a real possibility that we would have to change owners. The fine bled his father dry.

That meant his seat was in danger. He could no longer rely on his daddy to fix things for him. He had to prove his worth.

I didn’t give a fuck about any of it. It all became the background noise.

All that mattered was that Lola knew the worst of me, the worst that I’ve done, and she was still right beside me.

“We think there’s an issue with the engine,” Kevin broke into my thoughts.

“You think? It doesn’t feel that way?”

When he stayed silent, all I could think was fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I didn’t pick up any issues with the engine, but then again I didn’t have all the monitors in front of me.

I only felt I was a little slow, but that could mean any number of problems.

“Do we have time to figure it out?”

It was good we caught it this early in the weekend. It meant we could repair it and be ready for qualification on Saturday.

The problem was, they obviously didn’t know what the trouble was.

After a slight hesitation, Kevin said, “Yep, it’s Friday. We have time.”

Fucking hell.

With no other choice, I steered the car to the garage.

The moment I got out of it and walked onto the lane, microphones were shoved in my face, and questions were shouted from every direction.

“Ian, do you have any comments on the rumors of your team changing owners?”

Fuck.