Chapter 188
CHARLOTTE-
He got out of the car.
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My heart skipped when he passed the last stretch of mechanics, cameras and went straight for me, as if the win had a direction and I was it.
The hug lifted me. I could not help it. I leaned in, closed my eyes, and breathed him in: sweat, fireproofs, the sharp heat of a man who had just stolen Monaco on the last lap.
It felt so good being in his arms. Better that he had looked for me first. I always looked forward to these hugs. After bad races they were brief, a squeeze and a joke and then the debrief. After this one he held on like the street was still in his hands and I was the only solid thing left in the principality.
“You did it,” I said into his shoulder.
He made a sound that was half laugh, half disbelief.
His glove was still on. It pressed against my back anyway, clumsy and perfect.
For a few seconds I let myself be stupid. I let the look through the visor in the pit stop mean something.
People moved in. Hugs from every direction.
Someone pulled him toward parc fermé. Someone else shoved a flag into his fist. I got separated in the red tide and had to watch him from two meters away, then ten, then from behind a barrier while the spotlight found his face and kept it.
I clapped until my palms stung. I smiled for a camera that was not pointed at me. I told myself this was the job. Stand still while the rest of the world climbed onto him. Celebrating his success.
Questions started before the podium.
How did it feel when you had to make the stop? What did he think about beating his own brother in the race? A microphone under his mouth, another at his shoulder. He answered in the easy grin he used for these interviews.
I stood in the garage with my headset around my neck and clapped when I was supposed to clap, and the hug was already turning into a memory I would have to be careful with.
The ceremony took hours if you counted all of it. Weigh-in. Anthem. Champagne in his hair and on his suit. Sponsors who wanted a photograph with the man in rosso corsa who had just beaten everyone else,
I waited in the hospitality quiet that always came after a win, eating nothing, checking a phone that did not need checking.
Olivia texted a string of fire emojis. Blair sent congratulations. Nico sent a middle finger and then well done you bastard. I laughed.
I thought, once, that he might come find me again.
12:25 Fri, Sep 25 TF.
The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
I thought that, and then I hated myself for thinking it.
was late when he came back to the suite floor.
Unfortunately, he did not come back alone.
A model was in his arms. Tall. Beautiful. Perfect shape. Perfect hair and skin.
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Laughing at something he said like the joke was unly for her. His hand sat at her waist with the ease of a habit I had watched for years, the same easy claim he had never once put on me.
My heart squeezed tightly in response.
I guessed it had started again.
His supposed break from sex was now over.
Tonight the loud, wild sex would fill the room again. Walls. Headboard. A stranger in his jersey by morning. Party first, then a body that was not mine, because that was how Luca Vescari celebrated a big
win.
He saw me in the hallway and the grin flickered.
“Char. You waited.”
“Someone had to bring the key.” My voice came out soft despite how irritated I was. I hated that it did. “Congratulations. Really.”
The model glanced at me the way they always did.
A small, polite frown, as if I had wandered out of staff housing.
“This is Charlotte,” Luca said. “She’s-”
“His best friend,” I finished. “Enjoy the night. You earned it.”
I put the key in his hand. Our fingers touched. I took mine back too fast and stepped around them into my room before my face could do something stupid.
The door shut.
I sat on the bed and listened to their laughter fade toward his side of the suite, already knowing how the next hours would sound.
I pressed my palms against my eyes until the hug on the pit wall blurred, and it still lived in my body like it had meant something else.
That was the worst part.
Not the model. I had survived models. Not the walls. I had bought earplugs.
The worst part was that for one look through a visor, and one lift off the garage floor, I had let myself believe I was the thing he came back to.
12:25 Fri, Sep 25 )) TF ·
The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
I lay down in my bed and waited for the noise to prove me wrong.
would.
It always did.
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1225 Fri, Sep 2ɔ
The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.