Page 16 of Until The Lights Go Out

“How so?”

I tried to find the words.

“He’s exactly the same,” I said finally, “and completely different at the same time.”

Serena hummed thoughtfully. “That sounds about right.”

“He’s still grumpy,” I added.

Serena laughed. “Oh, thank God. That would’ve been unsettling if he suddenly had a personality.”

I smiled despite myself. But the tight feeling in my chest hadn’t gone anywhere. “I just didn’t expect it to feel like that,” I admitted quietly.

“Like what?”

“Like ten years disappeared the moment I saw him.”

Serena didn’t joke this time. “Fuck, I can’t even imagine.”

“Yeah.” I straightened, pushing away from the railing. “I should probably go introduce myself to some of the teams before tomorrow’s filming.”

“Good luck,” Serena said. “And Maise?”

“Yeah?

“If Theo gives you trouble…” I could practically hear the grin in her voice. “…remind him you used to beat him on a go-kart track.”

I laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We said our goodbyes, and I slipped my phone back into my bag.

I took a steadying breath and stepped back into the paddock traffic. Formula One paddocks functioned like small cities. Everyone seemed to know everyone, and yet you could still walk for twenty minutes without seeing the same person twice.

I passed a few drivers I recognized, along with several team managers and PR reps Evan had pointed out earlier. Most of them were friendly enough once I introduced myself and explained the PitSpark vlog project. About twenty minutes later, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Maisey?”

I turned and immediately broke into a grin. “Carlos!”

His expression shifted from surprise to recognition. “Well this is unexpected,” he said, stepping forward to pull me into a quick hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m working with PitSpark this season,” I explained. “Helping with their new driver series and strategic analysis for the team.”

“That’s brilliant,” he said. “You’re perfect for that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I teased.

Carlos had been one of the older karting kids when I was racing, already climbing through the junior formulas while Theo and I were still knocking elbows in smaller championships.

He had always been kind, though—one of the few drivers who never treated me differently for being the girl in the paddock.

“Well,” he said, gesturing toward the garage behind him, “welcome to the circus, it’s damn good to see a familiar face around here.”

Before I could respond, a woman stepped out of the garage beside him. She was walking a medium sized golden dog, whose ears flopped as they walked.

“Carlos, have you seen⁠—”

She stopped when she noticed me. “Oh! Sorry.”