Page 113 of Until The Lights Go Out

“She’s not ghosting me.”

Austin hummed dramatically. “That sounded convincing.”

“Fuck off.”

He grinned. “You’re spiraling, how cute.”

“I’m not spiraling.”

“You checked your phone six times in the last few minutes.”

I hated that he was right. I leaned back in my chair with a curse, dragging a hand down my face while the paddock noise swelled around us. Somewhere nearby, cameras flashed as drivers started filtered media appearances. The smell of coffee and overheated tires drifted through the open hospitality doors. Usually, this part of race day centered me.

Routine.

Structure.

Focus.

Today, my thoughts kept snagging somewhere else entirely: Maisey laughing into my neck last week in Monaco after I dragged her into a service hallway just to kiss her for 30 seconds between meetings, Maisey sitting cross-legged in my driver room stealing fries off my plate while pretending to review strategy notes, Maisey half asleep against my shoulder on the flight home from Imola, fingers tangled loosely with mine beneath a blanket because she thought nobody could see.

I’d spent years convincing myself I didn’t need anyone. Then Maisey crashed back into my life, and suddenly, my entire nervous system depended on whether she answered my texts. Sebastian appeared in the doorway next, already dressed in full team gear with his headset hanging around his neck.

One look at my face, and his expression shifted immediately.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

I shoved my phone into my pocket. “She’s not here.”

Sebastian blinked once. Then sighed like a deeply exhausted parent rather than my younger-brother-slash-manager. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You’re in love with her.”

Austin burst out laughing so violently, he nearly choked. The words hit me so hard. Because of course I was. No part of me had ever stopped loving Maisey Andrews, but knowing her now, falling in love with this version of her had been so fast, it snuck up on me and then chained me to her. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I glared at both of them. “Can everyone stop psychoanalyzing me before noon?”

Sebastian crossed his arms. “Have you considered calling her?”

“I texted.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

I hated how tight my chest suddenly felt. Because the truth was ugly. Calling her meant potentially hearing her not be okay, and that terrified me. Thoughts that something happened wouldn’t stop spiraling. I was suddenly terrified that she was pulling away, terrified that this happiness I barely trusted was about to disappear again.

I stood abruptly before either of them could say another word.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian asked immediately.

I grabbed my paddock pass from the table. “To find Maisey.”

Because screw race prep, screw media. Something was wrong. And if Maisey needed me? Nothing on this planet was keeping me away from her.