Off the Track Series Book 3
An unexpected twist of fate finds Charlotte spending a late night turned early morning with Max Verstappen. The only catch - He doesn't even touch her, but they do touch each others hearts. After a lifetime of getting it...
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I know the girls meant well, but our brunch chats have sent my mind into a full on scramble.
A scramble that lasts through the entire week. Tugging at me for attention anytime it can, screaming at me to address it.
To make matters worse Chad can't even be bothered to answer his phone.
Which is how I find myself staring at my closet and lost in my own thoughts rather than actually getting dressed. It's been a hell of a week, ending with Red Bull coming out on top today. Ferrari trailed just behind with a three four, and Ashton fought hard with Mercedes all race long. In the end, Lance took seventh so not at all a bad opener in my book. Even Dad was pleased.
And how can you not be? Lance says this is the fastest car he's ever raced and he seems to be right.
It really is an accomplishment after only recently buying the team and changing everything not long ago at all.
But it's not my accomplishment. Nor my dream.
Hell, a month ago I didn't even think I'd be here.
How quickly things change.
And change is categorically something I need to face.
Ugh.
As if he read my mind, my phone lights up with an incoming call from Chad.
"Chad?"
The British voice I haven't heard in weeks fills the speaker. "Cat - you're so beautiful you know?"
My boyfriend is calling me beautiful and I know I should smile. I should giggle and thank him. I should feel glad. But I don't. All I feel is panicked by the slight slur is his tone and find myself tensing up, bracing for the other shoe to drop. "What's going on?"
"Huh. Not much. I'm a little lost I guess."
A glance at the clock tells me it's near eleven hear, so it can't even be six pm in New York. The sun hasn't even set there yet and already he's so messed up he doesn't know where he is.
Lovely.
It's not the first time this has happened, so I spring into what has become a well oiled plan of action. After I spent hours in the rain searching for him a few months back I turned on his location sharing, and mercifully he's never noticed to turn it off because it's still working now.
That's one good thing at least.
"Oh, Chad..." I exhale deeply and trail off, lost for words.
"Coke get me?" He asks, mixing his words.
Can I come get him? I'm not even in New York, much less America. Something he should know.
Fucking hell.
I want to scream, want to cry. For how broken he is. For how broken we have become. But I don't do any of that, because it won't help a thing. Instead I pour myself a drink to calm my shaking hands and I wait on the phone with him. "I'm in Spain, but I'm sending you a car."
"Big one?"
"Sure."
"I love big trucks." He launches into rambled about everything from cars to city squirrels, and still I wait.
Waiting until the car arrives and he's tucked inside. Waiting for his doorman to help him up. Waiting to get ready, waiting to exhale.
Waiting for a change that isn't coming.
This isn't sustainable.
Elsa was right.
I can't only be taking calls from him when he's so drugged out he doesn't make any sense. I can't be there to carry him home. I can't make him stop using. I'm half ways across the world and powerless to the situation.
I'm one more of these phone calls away from leaving him and calling his mother because he needs help.
Help I can't give.
A weight on me that feels like a million pounds.
It's crushing me.
But there's nothing I can do right now. At least I know he's home and... what happens from here is up to him.
By the time I make it to the club, the party is in full swing. After the way my time in Spain has treated me so far I had to toss a few back to even get myself out the door.
I may have over done it, because there's no way in hell I could walk a straight line right now.
But it doesn't have to be a straight line, it just has to make it to the bar.
Tonight, I need to get properly drunk.
Tonight, I need to fucking forget.
No matter what it takes.
And I'm well on my way there, downing two shots before Max finds me. He looks devilishly handsome, his shirt unbuttoned far too low from the Spanish heat. His toned body on display and very, very tempting.
I'm only one shot away from doing something I'll regret at this point.
It's taking all my willpower left not to tug him down and push our lips together as it is. He looks like he'd be delicious.
Just friends Cat, just friends.
"There you are superstar!" I fling my arm around him, far more touchy than we usually are.
"Here I am," He chuckles at me and the only thought on my definitely drunk now mind is that I'm dying to touch him.
To be near him.
"So, do you like to dance?" I ask, ignoring all common sense.
"No."
"Oh," I'm surprised, no doubt. Not how I pictured this going but how hard can it be to find a new dance partner? "Okay."
"Ask me anyway." He counters.
I don't hesitate. "Would you like to dance with me?"
"Yes."
And that's all it takes. Max reaches out for my hand and when he takes mine in his it feels as if the stars are dancing across us.
When we make it down the floor and he pulls me close it doesn't feel like the first time at all, the way our bodies instantly mold together.
It feels familiar.
All too familiar for something that's never happened before.
Like déjà vu.
Like it's not the first time he's trailed his hand down my side. Like it's not the first time he pulls my waist back closer to him. Like it's not the first time his breath on my ear makes my body erupt in chill bumps.
Strange.
The liquor helps me push the thoughts of my mind and so I do, closing my eyes and just focusing on right here and right now.
On dancing with him.
On the music.
On the rhythm.
Shutting the world out so it's just us two here and now, and none of the days worries can take hold of me.
