I felt the pressure bearing down on me, and it was almost enough to make my knees buckle. Bile rose in my throat as I started the car and put it in gear.
My heartbeat thumping in my ears was louder than the drone of the engine.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck!
Would an image of Alyssa haunt me now? I’d exorcised my demons, but would they return to attack while I was most susceptible? Would I see her face from my dream?
My fingers clenched around the steering wheel and I had to take some deep breaths to stop myself from hyperventilating. There was so much riding on this first race, it seemed impossible to overcome the pressure. And with the way my heart raced, I was going to have a fucking heart attack or something.
I wished that Alyssa were alongside me, but that thought brought back images from my horrendous dream in force. Squeezing my eyes shut for half a second, I took another deep breath and imagined instead that Alyssa was in the stands waiting patiently for me. I pictured her mouth turning up into a smile as I lined up on the grid. Instead of haunting me, it slowed my heart and let me breathe a little easier. It was just the inspiration I needed to put the car into gear and drive onto the track.
While I sat on the grid waiting for the green light, I focused only on the pedals at my feet, the gearstick to my left, and my hands firmly planted on the wheel. I closed my eyes in my usual pre-race ritual, allowing myself one second of solitude. I pressed my foot deep onto the floor, listening to the far too quiet buzz that issued from the Mini’s tiny engine. It didn’t block out the thoughts quite the way the V8 had during the same routine. I took a deep breath, then my eyes snapped open and it was time to go.
Ride on instinct.
Don’t think.
Don’t overthink.
I threw the Mini into gear, floored the accelerator, and mentally willed the car to go as fast as possible. I watched as the car beside me—driven by Randall Wilkins, the championship winner the previous year and the one touted as the one to watch this season—dropped away slightly.
At corner one, I had the inside line. If I could just make a clean dive for it, I would be in the best position possible for the rest of the lap. And the rest of the race.
This style of racing was completely different to the ProV8 series. In the bigger cars, there was so much strategy at play. Pit windows and mandatory stops. So much was outside of the driver’s control and everything could change in a heartbeat. In the Mini, it all came down to the skill of the driver, and getting to the front of the pack as quickly as possible really could be the difference between winning and losing.
I threw the car hard into the corner, braking as late as I could—using the knowledge I’d gained in my practise and qualifying sessions to my benefit. I edged Wilkins out and drove in hard across his nose. I knew I needed to leg it to turn two or he would have the line there. I scraped it in.
He rode my tail tightly as I charged through turns two and three. By turn four, I was just starting to put some distance between us.
I flicked the car around the hard right before banking straight across for the hard left to block anyone who could have dived around me on the inside. I hit the straight and gunned it. I pushed as hard as I could, wishing that I could find an extra kilometre or two per hour—just that little edge over my competitors—even though I knew the cars were all equal.
My car swept around the soft curve of turn eight, hitting the racing line perfectly. Then I braked hard and cut sharply inwards to get around the tight bend. My eyes flicked up to the overpass that extended over the track and I imagined Alyssa up there, watching and waving as I sped by. It gave me the boost I needed.
I passed the V8 paddock, refusing to give into the little niggle that started at the back of my head. You could have been in one of those if things had gone differently.
If things had gone differently, I might not have had Alyssa back in my life. I would rather drive a Mini in every race until the end of eternity than give her up again.
I steadied the car, enjoying the freedom of my half-second buffer, and drove it hard around the last few turns, to finish the first lap in first place. When I did, I let out the breath I’d held tightly in my chest for the last quarter of the lap. I was one-eighth of the way to the end of the race. I was in first with a bit of a lead, and I didn’t have to worry about my concentration being invaded by guilt over leaving Alyssa or stress over her finding comfort with another.
Despite that, the next seven laps were not exactly a walk in the park. With the Minis being so evenly matched, one bump in the road or one misjudged corner and the game completely shifted. My buffer was reduced, and then eroded completely.
Before long, I was staring at the arse of another car. I began to panic about being unable to finish on podium. I needed a solid finish so badly for so many reasons. To reward Danny’s gamble, to silence the critics, but most of all, to earn Alyssa’s pride. She would love me no matter the outcome, but I wanted her to be proud of what I’d achieved. I wanted there to be a genuine reason for her coming to Adelaide to support me.
By the start of the eighth lap, I was door to door with Wilkins. He was taking the aggressive lines as often as he could, neither of us willing to give up our track position to the other. We drove side by side through turns eight, nine, and ten. Despite the tight grip I had on the wheel, the set of my teeth as I clenched them tightly, and my absolute focus on the track, I was actually having a lot of fun.
I knew turn fourteen was critical. Gaining control over that corner at that stage of the race would place me in either the winner’s or the loser’s seat, so I wanted to be out front when we hit it. I dropped back a little, pushing the car hard to the left side of the track. I took a deep breath—and a huge risk—drove in hard, broke late, and cut across the nose of Wilkins’s Mini just as he was entering the turn. I whipped my car around and exited the corner on the far right-hand side of the track. I didn’t even pause to breathe again as I moved my foot from brake to accelerator and smashed it to the ground. One hand steadied the wheel as my other snapped through the gears.
A smile graced my lips when I saw the gamble had paid off. I was ahead. By a few fucking whiskers, but that didn’t matter. Wilkins made a last-minute push for the line, but he was too late. The smile stretched into a mile-fucking-wide grin.
I was back.
I’d finished a race.
More than that, I’d won, and fuck if it didn’t feel fan-fucking-tastic.
Although I just wanted to celebrate, I didn’t have time to revel in the afterglow of my win. By the time I’d finished in scrutineering and parked the car back in the garage, I had less than a minute to sprint to the pits for Hunter’s second practise session. I was panting as I took my position, thankful that Ryan and Calem had covered my arse by having everything I needed ready and waiting.
I rolled my eyes as I heard Hunter’s complaints about his crew not being ready, knowing full well he was referring to my close-to-being-late arrival, but it wasn’t like he’d been delayed at all. The car was more than ready when he rolled out onto the track right on time.
Once Hunter had disappeared around the first corner and we knew we weren’t likely to see him again—it was Morgan’s turn for the bulk of the fine-tuning—I said a quiet thank-you to my boys. They in turn congratulated me on a job well done in the Mini.
“That looked like so much fun,” Calem said. “I wonder if I could convince Danny to put me in one next year.”
I grinned. “It was a fuckload of fun.”
Hunter only came into pit once during the thirty-minute practise and then only because he wanted to practise on the new soft-control tyre.
I was out of the pits the moment I was able to leave, retreating into the Mini garage once again. Not that I had anything to do there. Sure, I was being a coward, but at least I was a coward who was keeping my arse out of trouble, which was why I was so surprised when Mia dropped by and told me I needed to get up to the Sinclair Racing trailer to see Danny imm
ediately.
At first, I thought maybe Danny wanted to congratulate me on the race, but his main priority for the rest of the day and into the evening was the V8s, so it didn’t really make sense.
My race was little more than a blip on the radar in the grand scheme of the weekend. I knew his schedule well enough from when I was in the V8. He would go over all the statistics, have a brief discussion about tactics with Liam, and then he would meet with the drivers and go over the plan for the qualifying run in the morning. At the same time, he would be meeting with sponsors, arranging grid girls, and organising meet-and-greets.
In other words, he was far too busy to be seeing me over something as trivial as my win.
As it turned out, it wasn’t Danny who wanted me at all. Hunter had decided to pull an impromptu meeting to discuss “tactics” of his own for the race. I openly objected to some of the suggestions he was making; some of what he was planning was sabotage thinly veiled as strategy. But even I had to admit that at least some of his requests were valid.
I tried to be the first to leave when he finished the meeting, but unfortunately he called my name. Ryan and Calem hung back a little when they realised I would be alone with him, but I waved them forward. If he wanted a confrontation, I’d give him one.
“I know your game,” he said, smiling his stupid smirk. “You think that by being the good boy of the team, you’ll get your shot in my car again. You’re wrong though. Danny wouldn’t let you touch the controls of a V8 with a ten-foot pole. But I don’t care what you think may or may not happen; you just better fucking watch yourself and your smart mouth when you pit for me tomorrow. If I lose, it’ll be on your head.”
I scoffed. “If you lose, it’ll be because your head is so far up your own arse that you can’t see the track.”
I turned and left the room as quickly as I could, taking just one brief second to enjoy the look on his face at my words. He obviously hadn’t expected me to fight back. As I pushed out of the room, my mobile rang. I smiled when I read Alyssa’s name on the screen.
I answered it, knowing that hearing her voice would be the icing on the cake for the pretty fantastic day I’d had. Especially when I suspected she was calling to let me know she was about to board the plane. “Hey, baby.”
Instead of her voice though, I heard a choked sob.
All traces of good mood were wiped away in an instant.
Had something happened?
Was something wrong with Phoebe?
“Alyssa?” I asked, beginning to panic. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s—It’s Ruby—” She managed to squeeze out the words between sobs. Then a stack of words fell out in a jumble. I could only pick out random ones, but they were enough to make the cold grip of fear clench tightly around my heart.
Hospital . . . baby . . . danger . . . Brisbane.
“What is it? What’s happening?” I felt inadequate, utterly unable to deal with whatever it was. But most of all, I felt isolated. I was in another state when Alyssa needed me. I may not have known all the details, but I knew that much.
Alyssa took a couple of deep breaths and managed to calm herself enough to speak. “It’s—It’s Ruby, she’s been rushed to hospital. Oh, God, Declan, they think she might lose the baby. It’s all just too—” She cut off as her voice was stolen by a series of chest-wracking sobs.
I could easily imagine what was causing Alyssa’s pain. It was all too similar to what happened with the emergency with the twins. With her own experience of birth.
“I need to go to her. I need to be there for her . . . like she was for me.” Alyssa’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“Go,” I told her. It broke my heart to say it, but it wasn’t the time for being selfish. As much as I wanted her beside me, as much as I needed her in my arms again, I couldn’t demand that she come to Adelaide rather than go to Brisbane.
“I’m so—so—sorr—sorry.” She sobbed.
“It’s not your fault,” I murmured. “I know you’d be here if you could, but if Ruby needs you, you need to go.”
I leaned against the side of the trailer, feeling the blood draining from my face even as I said the words. I couldn’t help but wonder how Alyssa would feel being back at the hospital. Would it bring back too many painful memories for her? Would she have to relive all of them with me in another state and unable to help?
I longed to be able to rush to her and support her in all the ways I didn’t before. But I couldn’t see how that was possible, at least not without pissing off Danny. It was career suicide to do that.
Alyssa sobbed again, and I decided I didn’t care. Danny could go fuck himself if he didn’t realise how important this was.
“Alyssa, you organise your ticket. Use the emergency money and just fly home. Let me know your flight details when you can.” I hoped my tone was such that it wouldn’t allow for argument.
“Okay,” Alyssa said softly, then, “Are you sure about this?”
“One hundred percent. Go.”
“Thank you.”
“And Alyssa,” I added.
“Yeah?” Her voice was still muffled, and she was sniffling.
“I love you.”
After I had hung up the phone, I headed straight for Danny’s offices. I knew he would be busy, and I was certain my course of action would result in me upsetting the apple cart, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. Alyssa needed me, and that was all that mattered.
When I reached my destination, I saw Danny facing away from the small window, but Eden was facing toward it. Toward me. I waved to get her attention and signalled for her to leave the strategy meeting before quickly explaining what had happened and what I needed to do.
“I’ll get you a meeting with Danny as soon as possible,” she said before rushing off to join the meeting again. She walked straight up to Danny and whispered in his ear. His eyes darted quickly to me before he held up his hand to stop the meeting. Moments later, he came out and nodded for me to follow him into his office.
Because I hadn’t expected Eden’s “as soon as possible” to be instantaneous, I wasn’t entirely prepared. I swallowed nervously as I walked behind him. Would he understand why I needed to leave? Would he be okay with it? Or would it jeopardise the effort I had been putting in?
Did it matter if it did?
I trailed about three steps back as he walked wordlessly into his office. He headed straight for his desk drawer and pulled out his mobile. Without a word to me, he scrolled though his contacts before putting the phone to his ear.
“Ashley, it’s Danny Sinclair. I need to book a seat on the next flight from Adelaide to Brisbane.”
I felt my jaw drop as I listened to him book a return flight for me. After he’d ended his call he finally turned to me. “I booked the return flight just in case you can make it back. But family comes first in situations like this.”
My eyes burned as he handed me a sheet of paper with the details on it and wrote down Ashley’s number so I could reschedule the flexible return flight if necessary. He told me that he’d get Ryan and Calem to prep my car for the morning, just in case.
I thanked him profusely before pulling out my phone to ring Alyssa to tell her the good news. As soon as she answered, she launched into the details of her flight. I realised as she ran through the details that my own flight would arrive about fifteen minutes before hers.
In that moment, I decided to make my own dash to Brisbane a secret.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: EMERGENCY DASH
ONCE MY FLIGHT had landed, and I’d fought my way off the plane, I ran through the domestic terminal to get to the gate that Alyssa would be coming through. Every one of my spare fifteen minutes was needed to ensure that I was there before she disembarked. When I arrived, I waited anxiously, watching the gate carefully for her arrival.
I stood by the door, my eyes taking in every person as they passed by. Finally, she emerged. She was almost the last one off, carrying her overnigh
t bag over one shoulder and Phoebe on the opposite hip as she walked.
Her body was bent and weary. It was as if a hundred years had wreaked havoc on her since I’d last seen her just a few short days ago. Her eyes were red and puffy, showing that she’d clearly been crying on the plane. I hated that I wasn’t able to do anything more for her earlier, but silently vowed to do everything I could for her now.
Phoebe was the first to see me.
“Daddy!” she called as soon as her eyes locked with mine.
I gave her a small smile as Alyssa hushed her quietly, telling her that Daddy wasn’t there.
Phoebe shook her head and laughed. “Silly! He’s right there, Mummy!” she exclaimed, pointing at me.
Alyssa raised her head a little as her eyes followed Phoebe’s finger to find me, widening as they traced over my body.
I smiled, walking over to her as quickly as I was able and wrapping my arms around the pair of them. Phoebe curled her arms around my neck before giving me a quick peck on the cheek. I felt Alyssa surrender herself to my embrace almost instantly. Clearly, it was sheer perseverance and determination that had carried her onto the plane and then through the terminal.
“You came,” she whispered against my chest as she descended into tears again. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
“Here for you,” I murmured into her hair. “For as long as you need me.”
“But your race? Your pit obligations?”
“If I can get back to Adelaide before the meet is over, then I will. Otherwise . . .” I trailed off, letting her know through touch instead that I would remain by her side for as long as she needed.
Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series) Page 116
