Chapter 186
CHARLOTTE-
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Race day in Monaco did not feel like a Sunday. It felt like a city holding its breath.
The streets were closed. Barriers locked. Yachts packed the harbor like they had paid for a better angle.
From the garage you could hear it all-engines on warmers, a helicopter, someone laughing too close to live radio.
I was where I always was.
Next to Luca.
He sat on the small bench behind the car while physio finished his neck.
Fireproofs half on. He had that focused look on, the one he always used when he was about to start a race
Nico’s garage was a few doors down. Marco’s further. First place could be given to one of the three. It was very rare for it to belong to anyone else.
I was buzzing with excitement. I always was, this close to watching Luca out there kick ass.
I loved the scent of gasoline wafting through the air, the loud roar of engines revving, and the exuberant joy and excitement on the spectators’ faces as they watched the spectacle unfold.
The whole garage tightened around one man and one car. Luca Vescari about to do the thing he was built for.
That part never got old. The other part never left either-the fear that anything could happen out there. I’d seen it before. Luckily, it has never happened to Luca. I hoped it stayed that way. I never wanted to have to witness him in a crash.
“Arms,” I said.
He lifted them without being asked. I checked the balaclava, the HANS attachments, and how the suit sat at his wrists.
He let me. He had always let me. Other drivers had engineers and girlfriends and luck. Luca had a routine, and I was part of it. If I said it was good, he got in the car. If I frowned, he waited.
“Gloves.”
He held them out. I turned them, flexed the seams, nodded.
“Radio.”
He tapped his ear. “Clear.”
I loved doing this. Being here for him. It was the best feeling in the world. I never wanted to stop.
Luca gazed directly at me, ignoring the frantic commotion of the crowded surroundings. I cherished these
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moments when his attention was solely on me, a rare display of focus that he often exhibited just before a race. I wasn’t entirely sure why he did it, but those glances always made me feel uniquely valued and
ticed.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
“You’re about to kick ass.” I smiled, staying positive. “I’m excited. Don’t let it go to your head.”
He frowned. “You threw water in my face yesterday. It might be affecting my vision today.”
I rolled my eyes. “You deserved it.”
A mechanic called two minutes. Luca stood. I stepped in and fixed his collar where it had folded wrong fingers brushing his throat. He went still. That was new. The check had never made him still before.
“Char.”
“What.”
He hesitated, eyes on my face like the question might stall the car. “Are you going to that lunch with Marco?”
I blinked. Strange. Why would he ask such a question in the middle of a race-day checklist?
Why did that bother him so much?
“I don’t know,” I said. “Depends how the afternoon goes. Why?”
“No reason.” He looked away too fast. “Just asking.”
I almost thought about it. Then a radio crackled and the thought went to getting him into his car.
I smoothed the last wrinkle on his chest and stepped back.
“Everything’s good,” I said.
He looked at me like he wanted to say something else but held back.
Then the helmet came down, visor up, eyes still on mine for one second too long.
“Win the race, Vescari,” I said. “Kick some ass!”
He snapped the visor shut and gave me a nod.
They walked him out.
I knew the schedule by heart. Every little detail of what happened next.
I watched the entire crowd lean eagerly forward, their faces a mixture of anticipation and excitement. People struggled to keep their composure, their hands clenched or nervously fidgeting. Who could blame them? My heart was pounding wildly in the best way possible, each beat echoing in my chest. This was a rare sensation-an exhilarating rush that not everyone gets to experience. For those lucky enough, it became a vivid memory and a once-in-a-lifetime experience that would stay with us forever.
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I stood on the pit wall with the headset and my hands too tight. Excitement under the fear. Fear under the excitement. Both feelings were mine.
They moved toward Sainte-Dévote in a roar. Luca made the first corner cleanly. Nico was there. Marco was there.
Three important names, one street, no room for à fecling I was not supposed to have.
I watched his car disappear toward Casino and told myself this was the job.
Support. Check the suit. Say it was good.
I had been doing it for years.
Part of me wished I wouldn’t be doing it as his best friend anymore…but as much more than that.
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125 Fri, Sep 25
The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.