Finding Home - an f1 romance

chapter 13

Natalia Bridgers (POV):
It was official, I couldn't get Max out of my mind. His broken, vulnerable eyes persisted in my memory for days on end. I couldn't spend a single hour without thinking of him, without wondering about him.

I've calmed a few people down from panic attacks before, but I've never helped Max for anything, even something as mundane as getting a glass of water. He's independent to a fault and remains reserved, but now I've seen a side from him that's new. A side that I'm willing to bet few people have ever seen.

That much is evident considering how mortified he looked when he finally calmed down. How he was clearly trying to send me away after the fact, telling me to stay at the party. How he hasn't looked at me once, even though we are on the same plane.

He's sitting away from me, looking out of the window. For these past two days, he's had a defeated look in his eyes, avoiding me at all costs.

"The race is in Monaco this weekend, right?" I ask, hoping he'll answer.

Max tenses. "Yeah," he mumbles quietly, looking down at his hands before looking out at the sky again.

I sigh heavily, annoyed. "Max, don't shut me out again," I practically demanded. "Just stop. I don't care, okay? You don't have to be all manly, bro or something."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he snaps, tone icy, eyes hardened with anger.

Swallowing, I meet his gaze. "Maybe I don't understand or know, but you can't keep shutting everyone out!"

His eyes ignite, hands curled into fists. "You don't know shit! I can do whatever the fuck I want. I'm my own person, aren't I?"

He jumps up, storming down the short hallway and into the restroom.

Sighing, I toy with the hem of my jeans.

"He gets frustrated sometimes," I hear someone say near me. I glance her way, meeting the gaze of one of the flight attendants. "You shouldn't take it to heart."

The woman frowns at the locked bathroom door. "Will he be okay?" I ask slowly.

"Yeah. . . I think. He's always been like this, though. It's not anything personal. Give him some space, and then talk to him."

I tilt my head in confusion. "How do you know? Why are you telling me this?"

She gives me a gentle smile, leaning in to whisper, "Mr. Verstappen is a very isolated and reserved individual. He rarely brings friends with him on flights, and he usually just sleeps or spends the entire time locked in his bathroom, doing God knows what. It's wonderful that he has someone to connect and interact with."

"Oh," I breathe out, not quite sure what to say to that. I guess I always knew he was usually on his own, with the exception of Daniel. But this? To the point where flight attendants are realizing and want to help him? I didn't know he was like that. "I'll talk to him eventually," I offer with a smile. "Maybe when we land?"

She nods and then leaves.

I mull over her words for a while. She's right, and that becomes apparent when Max doesn't come out of the bathroom for a while. When he finally does, it's a few minutes before landing. His eyes are completely vacant, a heavy feeling projecting from him. He clearly doesn't want to talk, so I let him be.

Leaving his private jet, driving to his house, and settling in is done in pure silence. My skin itches with the thought of uncomfortable silence haunting us forever.

"Max-" I start.

"I'm going to my room," he interrupts. "Please, can I rest?"

His tired eyes and drooping body remind me of just how closed off he can become. I remember all of the times we reached his house and he looked just like this.