Page 104 of Until The Lights Go Out

“I spent 10 years missing you,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I’m in danger of getting sick of you anytime soon.”

Well.

That certainly rewired my nervous system.

After a few meetings with PitSpark execs that morning, I was sitting cross-legged on the hotel bed waiting to get on a call with our head of graphic design and unofficial backbone of the entire PitSpark Paddock Report operation, Andrea.

My laptop balanced precariously on my knees while I tried to tame my hair into something vaguely professional, which was difficult considering Theo had kissed me senseless approximately eight hours ago and my brain still short-circuited every time I thought about it for too long. I had to rush to get ready back in my room before deciding to work near the hotel lobby on some luxurious couches in a grand seating space I had clocked when I first checked in at the beginning of the weekend. Serena had a few meetings herself this morning before she was due to meet back with me so we could spend the day exploring, and I was feeling jittery to update her on everything.

Theo:

You left your lace in my room.

Heat flooded my face.

I glanced at the edge of lace underwear that I had been wearing last night laid on his nightstand and physically had to press my lips together to stop smiling.

Maisey:

Tragic.

You’ll have to return them.

Theo:

Already planning on it.

My stomach flipped. Hopeless. I am hopeless. A loud ding from my laptop interrupted before I could embarrass myself further. Andrea’s face popped onto the screen.

“Whoa.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You are glowing.”

I nearly choked on my coffee.

“I am always glowing, thank you very much.” My thoughts kept going back to Theo: the sunlight brushing his face, the longer parts of his hair falling over his eyes as he slept. I had loved Theo Bauer in some form since I was 14 years old sitting beside him on a grassy hill beneath stars while he told me things he said he could never tell anyone else.

Andrea sighed dramatically. “Love that for you, truly. I need a damn reason to glow like that.” Before I could respond, Andrea clapped her hands together loudly and shifted back into work mode.

“Alright, enough emotional turmoil. We have content to edit, and your strategy segment from race day is blowing up online.”

That snapped my brain back into work immediately.

“Oh God, seriously?”

Andrea shared her screen, showing analytics dashboards and social metrics exploding upward. My stomach flipped for entirely different reasons now.

PitSpark had taken a huge gamble bringing me on. I didn’t have the decades of experience some of the veteran commentators did. I wasn’t a former team principal or ex-driver with world titles behind my name.

I was just…me.

A girl obsessed with race strategy who worked her ass off and hoped people took her seriously eventually.

And they were.

Somehow, they actually were.

Andrea pulled up clips from my post-race safety car breakdown where I’d explained exactly why Theo’s alternate tire strategy could have worked before the engine failure killed the race entirely. The comments were flooding in beneath it:

“She explains strategy better than anyone.”