Page 10 of Until The Lights Go Out

I recognized those, too.

She used to make them herself when we were younger, braiding colorful threads together between races. Sometimes she’d trade them with other kids in the paddock, sometimes she’d keep them stacked up her arms like trophies. The memory tightened something uncomfortable in my chest. I forced my gaze away from her and fixed it on the patterned wallpaper behind Evan instead.

“…and the goal here is authenticity,” Evan was saying enthusiastically. “Fans want to see the real Theo Bauer.”

Good luck with that.

I’d spent the better part of a decade making sure no one ever saw him.

“So,” Evan continued, clapping his hands once like a teacher trying to bring a distracted classroom back to attention, “our first filming block will be tomorrow morning. Just a quick introductory piece to kick things off. Nothing too intense.”

“Define not intense,” I muttered under my breath.

Sebastian’s foot connected sharply with my shin beneath the table.

Be nice, he mouthed, shooting me a pointed look.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue.

Across the table, Maisey cleared her throat softly.

“If it helps,” she said, her voice calm and professional, “the first segment is mostly just a short interview about preseason preparation. Things like training routines, expectations for the season, and what you’re focusing on this year. Nothing invasive.” Her voice had changed. It was still warm, still bright in the way I remembered, but there was a steadiness to it now that hadn’t been there before. Each word sounded carefully chosen, measured, and controlled. Like she was speaking to someone she didn’t quite trust. Like she was speaking to a stranger.

The thought settled uncomfortably in my stomach.

Because that was exactly what I was to her now.

I didn’t deserve her softness or trust, but the reality of it all still felt like a gut punch.

“Well,” I said dryly, leaning back slightly in my chair, “that sounds riveting.”

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose like he was already developing a headache.

Maisey, however, didn’t react at all, which somehow irritated me more. She simply nodded once and lowered her gaze to the notebook resting in her lap. Her pen moved smoothly across the page, looping letters forming neat lines of handwriting.

I knew that handwriting.

God, I knew that handwriting.

I’d read it in hundreds of letters.

Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.

“You still write everything down.” Everyone else had a tablet or their phone or laptop to take notes, but she had a spiral notebook and a damned pink pen.

Her pen froze against the page. Then she slowly lifted her gaze. Those blue eyes met mine again, sharp and assessing, as if she were trying to figure something out.

“Helps me think,” she replied simply.

For a moment, the room fell quiet.

Then Evan clapped his hands together again, clearly pleased.

“Great! Amazing! I love the chemistry already.”

Sebastian promptly choked on his coffee.

Maisey lowered her gaze back to her notebook, though I thought I saw the corner of her mouth twitch slightly. I leaned back in my chair and dragged a hand down my face.