Chapter 227
HARLOTTE-
He ran straight to me.
How he often did when a race had gone exactly as he planned. Only this time he did not stop at a hug
He picked me up.
My feet left the ground. I laughed into his shoulder, crying again, fists in his suit, holding on for life.
He was hot from the car. The suit still smelled like fuel.
His heart was going too fast against my chest and I did not care. He was here. Happy. Safe.
He spun me once like we were allowed to be this happy in public. Like yesterday’s crash had never existed. Like a hospital checkup was a rumor someone else had started.
“Told you,” he said against my hair. “Last lap is mine.”
“You terrified me.”
“I told you I had everything under control.” He grinned, close enough that I felt it. “You worry too much.”
“I can’t help it. I care about you, idiot.”
He set me down only enough to see my face. Both hands stayed on me. One at my waist. One at my jaw. The kind of hold that was supposed to look like a celebration and did not feel like one.
It felt like that night on the couch. Against the wall.
His eyes moved over me how the medics had moved over him yesterday, searching for damage.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I almost laughed. “You just won after starting all the way from the back and you’re asking me that.”
I should have been asking him. I needed to know he was okay. That yesterday’s crash had not hidden something the scans missed.
“Yes.” His thumb brushed the place under my eye where the tears had mostly dried. Slow. Too intimate for here. “You were shaking this morning. You look like you still are. I need you to tell me you’re actually okay.”
“I’m fine.” I lied. “You are the one who crashed, Luca.”
“And you’re the one who had to watch it.” He leaned in so only I would hear it. His mouth almost at my ear. Heat. Suit. The faint scrape of his glove at my waist. “I saw your face when I drove off. I thought about that more than the race. Don’t do that thing where you pretend you’re fine and you actually aren’t.”
I swallowed. “I thought you were going to hit someone. Then I thought you were going to hit Marco. Then I thought I was going to pass out in front of everyone.”
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“I didn’t. I didn’t. You didn’t.” His mouth tipped. “Three wins.”
ou are impossible.”
“You’re pale.” He said it like a fact he intended to fix. “Breathe for me. Now. Slowly.”
I did. It shook on the way out. He nodded once, satisfied enough to keep holding me, not satisfied enough to let the subject die.
We both felt it at the same time.
The lean-in.
The almost-kiss.
His mouth close enough that I could have tasted him if I had been braver. Or stupider. Or both.
We froze when we realized what we were doing in public.
Cameras.
People.
A win that was already going to be on every screen without us adding a kiss to it.
We let go too fast and then looked at each other like we had been caught stealing.
Luca cleared his throat. I stared at the ground.
My lips still felt the almost kiss.
He still checked me again. A flick of his eyes from my mouth to my hands, as if he needed proof I had calmed down.
Marco arrived, helmet under his arm, grin tired and happy.
He pulled Luca in. “You did well. Proud of you. Glad there wasn’t a crash today.”
“Congrats on second,” Luca said, clapping his back. “You made me work for it.”
“Yeah. I let you have it after yesterday.”
Luca laughed. “Sure you did.”
Marco glanced at me, then at the space we had put between our bodies. He said nothing even though his eyes were loud. He knew there was something. I could tell from the spark in them.
Officials were waiting. Always waiting after a race was finished.
Luca did not go immediately. He caught my wrist the way he had this morning. Gentle. My body shivered
anyway.
“Stay where I can see you,” he said. “I’m serious. After yesterday I don’t want you disappearing and crying in a corner. Everyone told me how hysterical you were. I need to see you at all times.”
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“I don’t need you to keep an eye on me. I am fine.”
ou were crying into my suit after a crash and you’re crying now because I didn’t crash. Just don’t do it where I can’t get to you.”
I nodded.
I watched them hand out trophies, then the interviews.
I stood where I always stood and watched him shine how he always did after winning.
He was on the top step..
Marco on the second. Nico on the third. It was always like this with the three of them. Not always the same order. They seemed to take turns for first place.
Every time the cameras turned to the cup, he looked past them.
Searching.
For me.
I felt it each time. That pull. That second where the smile for the cameras slipped and became something private.
Olivia appeared at my shoulder with Blair, both of them already loud with joy.
“That man has looked at you four times,” Olivia said, not bothering to whisper. “I counted. Roman is annoyed I counted. He said I should just let it be. And not try to force it so that I could win the bet. He doesn’t realize my help isn’t needed.”
“He’s looking at the people behind me,” I said. I knew it was a lie.
“He’s looking at you,” Blair said. “There is a difference. One is professional. One is going to get you both on a gossip account.”
Olivia bumped my arm. “Also, you two almost kissed. Don’t lie. I have eyes.”
My face went hot. “We did not.”
“You did,” Olivia said, laughing. “You just remembered there were cameras. Very responsible. Very boring. I would have let him. If I were you, I would have kissed him like we were the only two people-”
“Olivia.”
“What? He picked you up like you were the trophy.” She teased. “Sometimes you have to give them a little push when they’re too blind to realize what they have in front of them.”
Blair nodded. “It’s true.”
I tried to focus on them. I watched Luca instead. He found me again over the cup. A small look. A question. Still okay?
I gave him the smile he had asked for this morning.
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His shoulders eased.
hampagne hit the front row. I flinched and then laughed. Olivia screamed. Blair clapped with both hands. Grayson looked like he respected a comeback even if it was not his sport.
I wondered if the almost-kiss had meant anything.
Or if it was just a win. Heat. Relief.
He lifted the trophy and the noise doubled.
He looked for me again..
And again.
Like the cup was not enough unless he could see I was still standing.
When they finally let him off the stage he was looking for me before he had even handed the bottle off.
This time he did not pick me up.
He stopped a foot away, and still reached out to squeeze my shoulder like he needed the contact more than the trophy. His glove was gone. Bare fingers. Warm. The squeeze lingered a second too long.
“You good?” he asked despite the chaos around us.
“You won. Congratulations.”
“Not what I asked.”
I nodded. “I’m good.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second.
Then away.
The air between us went tight anyway.
“Don’t cry like that again.”
“I was worried about you.”
“I know. I’m worried about you worrying.” He said it like it frustrated him. Like my fear was a thing he wanted to put in his pocket and keep safe. “I have things under control from now on.”
I nodded even though I was not convinced yet.
Olivia, behind me, made a tiny noise that meant I told you.
“Let’s get back to the hotel,” he said.
“Okay.”
I needed to be alone with him again. The weekend had been too many things at once. A crash. A hospital.
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An almost-kiss in front of the world.
would not wait for us to finally take a breather.
His hand left my shoulder last.
Like he did not want to stop touching me either.
I bit my lip.
I wanted him. So badly.
ལ་
When would I have the courage to tell him the truth? That it was never just about sex for me. When would I finally tell him that I loved him?
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:37 Mon, Sep 28 JOM.
The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.