Before You Go

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"...I mean, you do have to wonder how June Park is feeling in all of this, given the history she has with Charlie. I can't imagine she's overly thrilled about her dad's role in this decision, if she even knew about it at all."

"Yeah, but June hasn't been spotted at a race weekend since the British GP in 2018. I doubt she even cares much anymore, especially since what happened in Austria was, terrible as it was, just an accident—"

"That took her brother's life! Look, no one's blaming anyone, but the fact is Charlie was the other driver involved that day, so we can probably assume there's some hard feelings there, resentful or not. I don't think—"

The TV shut off, bringing an end to the gossip podcast I'd come across while looking for something to watch. Turning, I found my best friend Yeona standing behind the couch, two salads balanced in one hand, the TV remote in the other, a disappointed look on her face.

"I was watching that," I told her sourly, taking the plate she offered me.

"Well, don't. That podcast is ass. You said it yourself—those guys don't know a thing about cars."

"They know plenty about cars. It's the racing they don't get. That, and they think all female F1 fans do is moon over the drivers." I stretched my arms with a yawn. "But they always have the best gossip. I just wanted to see what they were saying about this whole...family matter."

Yeona sat beside me on the couch. "Who cares what people are saying? I'm worried about how you're feeling. Especially since, you know..." She gestured toward my lip. The cut had scabbed over in the past couple of days, but the purple-green bruise that lingered made it look much more painful than it was. When I'd told her what happened, she'd all but blown her top, swearing she'd drive up to my family's estate herself and give my father a beating herself. I'd talked her down, but now she insisted on fluttering around my house at all hours of the day, entertaining me with meaningless conversation and whatever food she could scrounge into a meal for us.

I waved a hand at her now, dismissive. "I'm fine. There's not much I can do about it, so I'm just trying to...get over it, I guess? You know I don't pay much attention to all that car stuff anyway. It's not like it's going to bleed into my life much or anything. I mean, those podcast boys said it themselves—I haven't even been to a GP in years. No skin off my nose."

My best friend ignored my poor attempt at lightening the mood, shooting me a disapproving look before saying seriously, "And what about Charlie?"

I shoveled some greens into my mouth at this. "What about him?"

"Oh, come on, June. You went to his apartment. It's been, what, four years since you last spoke?"

"Five years," I corrected through a mouthful of lettuce. "Well, five and a half, really. But who's counting? And anyway," I barreled on, before she could interrupt me, "it's nothing. It was a last ditch effort and it didn't work. It's not like we're gonna be best friends or anything."

Her brown eyes cut to mine. "It wasn't friends that people thought you two were going to end up as when we were younger."

"Oh, and you think there's potential now, after everything we've been through?" I forced out a laugh. "All we are to each other is a reminder of what we both lost. I don't think either of us want to pursue something like that."

She was unconvinced, her brows arched skeptically as she chewed her food and let me squirm in the silence. Then, "So you're obviously not going to meet him for dinner on Friday, then."