“I appreciate you for giving birth to me, for being whatever you tried to be. Her silence does nothing but encourage me. Hell, how many times have you called me this whole season? Besides the one misdial?” And how many times did you call on me to check? None. But in case you didn’t know, I got into the worst crash of my career two weeks ago. And shockingly you withheld your one-stop user card for the whole year until now. Instead, you only contact me when convenient. I can’t do this to myself anymore, trying to be a son I thought both of you wanted. Because why the fuck not, with everything else in the Slade family going to shit. “You know, I don’t think this is going to work.” But like a gumball machine, she only works when you put money in her. Looks like she can procure more than three words at a time. “Clarissa is asking if you could also access some VIP passes for the after-party? We personally like the one with the champagne company, but we aren’t against others.” Although an upgrade from my father’s comments about Maya, she can’t say much more than that? “That’s sweet.” She distracts herself with talking to someone else in the background. Did you know I met someone while competing this year?” I want to be the fucking best for Maya and myself. It should make you a better person-not because you have to be, but because you want to be. And if I learned one thing in therapy, besides the fact that crying makes my face puffy as fuck, is how love doesn’t come with conditions. Why I can’t fall back into a damaging relationship with my parents because their love is conditional. But I want to show myself why I need to let go. I hate every second of this call, of the battle waging inside of me to not hang up the phone. My mistake.” Her laugh sounds similar to nails scratching a chalkboard. But numbers blur after so many years.” Insert obligatory eye roll here. Surprisingly she remembers the month I was born, most likely because my father drops a large sum of money in her bank account as a “thank you for birthing my spawn” gift. I’d say she blacked out for her entire pregnancy except she couldn’t drink. ![]() How are you celebrating your twenty-ninth this year?” ![]() But with the end of the season means your birthday is coming up. Can you believe it’s been seven years since I began racing with the team?” Bet you a weekend on my yacht she doesn’t catch my mistake. “Yup, the same one I’ve had since I started with Bandini. If she means Steven, who likes to ask her about her day, then yes. “Is it that man who prattles on the phone forever?” How are you doing?” I hold the phone to my ear, having no interest in asking about any tickets. Being around Maya has made me a forgiving person. Simple to not put up a fight, not wanting to make waves like my dad despite how sick it made me feel to be used over and over again.īut like I did with my dad, I want to give her one last chance. In the whole scheme of things, I never thought to say no because it was easy to do. Grandstand VIP sections don’t come with complimentary champagne and Instagram street credit.Įvery time my mom asks for tickets, I get them. What do you think about getting us some tickets? Preferably in the VIP section with a better view, not that one near the stands.”īecause God forbid, she actually has a view of the finish line. “Well, I’m spending time with Clarissa and Jennifer in Dubai, and we thought about visiting for the Prix. A siren who calls to men with wallets and trust funds, luring them in before ripping their hearts out. “You can work on your delivery a bit, Noah.” Her voice carries like a melody through the phone. “I’m busy and about to leave for my qualifier. ![]() Nothing like reminding me of who signed my birth certificate to manipulate me. If you’re trying to make the connection, don’t.Ī classic. Why hit her with pleasantries when she has the emotional intelligence of floral wallpaper. My finger slides across the glass, my head pounding to the beat of my heart. Whether because of brewing emotions inside of me or because I have a kink for masochistic tendencies. I don’t know what pushes me to answer the phone. And thank God Maya left the suite ten minutes ago because the curse words flying out of my mouth are nothing short of abhorrent. And if that doesn’t deserve a trophy for the Constructors’ Championship, I don’t know what does. Jax and Liam may have won the game, but these two won each other over, a seemingly impossible task. They couldn’t agree on who deserves a World Championship more, with Noah raising a red card while my brother raised a blue one. Unfortunately, they couldn’t decide who cares more about me. The two of them lose the game after a total of nine points. I never in a million years would have imagined them getting along like this, willing to put aside their differences to make me happy. My chest tightens at the two of them looking at me.
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