Thorns

21

March 25th
Week Off

Lelia Amani

I finally finish Lando's meal plan, and I'm staring at the screen in front of me like it's going to suddenly tell me I've done something miraculous. It took longer than I anticipated, mostly because Lando's ridiculous hatred for fish made it harder than it should have been. I don't think I've ever met someone with such a specific list of food preferences. I mean, I get it. I'm sure it's hard to trust anyone else to tell you what to eat when you're surrounded by so much hype and pressure. But when you're this deep into a sport, you have to be willing to compromise... at least, that's how I see it.

But no. Lando is stubborn, and fish? That's a hard "no" in his book.

I've spent the last few hours rearranging his macros, trying to find the right balance, considering every little detail. The carbs, the fats, the protein... everything needs to be perfect. The portions were nearly right, just tweaking left in the timing. It's tedious work, but it's what I'm here for.

And finally, it looks good. The numbers are where they need to be. I double-checked everything one more time, just to be sure this was ideal for both me and Lando. A meal plan that met in the middle between his preferences and my suggestions.

The office around me is oddly silent. The hum of the computer is almost comforting. For the first time in a hot minute, I was enjoying the silence. My office, at least, is mine—well, as much as anything can feel "mine" when it's provided by someone else. Zak made sure of that. He made it clear that this would be my space, complete with my name on a silver plaque next to the door. It was his way of sweetening the deal, keeping me at McLaren. Not that I didn't like the gesture, it was a nice touch. There's something about the sleekness of the office, the large windows that show off the MTC grounds, that makes it feel like I'm meant to be here. There's a certain pride in it, sure. But it wasn't the reason I stayed.

I didn't stay because of the office or because of Zak's constant efforts to keep me happy while Lando worked to tear down my spirits.

It was Charles and Carlos. Their words, the way they spoke to me when I was at a crossroads. When I was unsure if this life was still for me... that was the deciding factor. It wasn't about the offers or perks that Zak kept throwing my way. It wasn't about the office, the pay, the new car, or any of that. It was about them reminding me of what I was capable of, what I had to offer, and how important it was for me to keep pushing through the tough moments. I was at a point where I needed someone to believe in me, and they both did. They saw something in me that I sometimes struggle to see in myself.

And somehow, that had meant more than anything else.

I glance down at the meal plan again, and my fingers hover over the keyboard. There's a knot in my stomach. Nothing major, but enough to remind me that Lando and I still had to talk about what was going on between us. To address the excessive arguments and painful periods of silence we've had in just four days. It hasn't really gone away, no matter how many times I thought I was able to suppress it.

I shake my head, trying to push those thoughts aside again. I focus on the task at hand instead. One step at a time.

The office door clicks open, and I barely hear it before I hear Zak's voice. "Hey, how's it going in here?" He leans in, poking his head around the doorframe.

I glance up at him and offer a tight smile. "It's done," I say, motioning toward the screen. "Lando's meal plan. Took me a while, but it's sorted now."

Zak steps fully into the room and leans against the doorframe, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. He's grinning, the way he does when he's trying to be encouraging but has an underlying sense of urgency. "I'm glad to hear that. He's been pushing himself hard lately. With Max breathing down his neck... Well, you know how it is."