Page 127 of Downforce

Love. Want. Need.

“It’s what?” I want her to say it, to know that she sees it, feels it, too.

“Why are we going to Kimbolton?”

I bite back my regret at her lack of response.

“Meeting an old friend,” I answer instead of wading deeper into a conversation she’s clearly not ready for yet.

She lifts her brows in curiosity but doesn’t ask. I’m grateful for that because I’m not quite ready to explain just yet either. It’s a huge step that I’m even venturing out to the track I haven’t been to in almost five years. Despite the positive memories I have of racing on this track, the one person I’ve avoided for far too long works there.

We pull into the car park twenty minutes later. There’s already construction being built for this weekend’s race. My heart pangs when I, for the first time in a long time, long to sit and be a spectator of a race. My heart beats for the thrill of racing, of being the one behind the wheel during every corner, but it’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to sit and watch, admiring from a distance instead of inside of my car.

“Max?” a young attendee says, surprised as I enter the main entrance behind Annalise. “Max Ferreira?”

Smiling, I remove my sunglasses. “That’s me. And you are?”

He comes from behind the counter, eyes wide and hands animated. “Aw, man, it’s such a pleasure. An honor, really.” He gestures toward the wall of pictures.

I already know one of them is of me shaking hands with one of the owners of the track after my third consecutive win on the track. I glance over to see the me from almost a decade ago, dressed in my blue and white racing suit, smiling at the camera. A part of me is taken aback by how young and fresh-faced I look.

“That was the year you won your first championship.”

I look at Annalise, who’s staring at the picture on the wall, and squeeze her hand.

“That’s right,” the young employee agrees. “I was nine years old and watched that race with my dad. That was when I became a lifelong fan.”

I chuckle. “You’re still young.”

“But a fan for life,” he says admittedly. “Would you be willing to sign⁠—”

“I highly doubt the illustrious Maxwell Ferreira is here to sign autographs,” a deep, familiar voice says from the back hallway of the building. The hallway that leads to the track’s garage.

I release Annalise’s hand and step around the young employee to come face to face with the man who I haven’t seen in three years. The same one I used to call my best friend.

Harry looks up at me from his wheelchair, his dark brown eyes unflinching, face neutral. “Why don’t you tell us all what you’re really here for?”

“That’s a warm welcome if I’ve ever heard one,” I reply.

A dark brow lifts. He cuts his gaze over my shoulder, his eyes narrowing when he spots Annalise.

“You look familiar.”

She comes up behind me, placing her chin against my arm, her hand going around my waist. I hadn’t thought much about the secrecy of our relationship until this moment.

All I thought about was bringing her with me to meet the man who was once my best friend. The one I abandoned after his accident.

My mind never went beyond what would happen if other people saw the two of us together … people who might make trouble if they opened their mouths and news of us being together got back to her brother before she’s ready to tell him.

That includes my mother.

Though I have no intention of speaking to her myself, I need to make it clear that she keeps her mouth shut about what she walked in on this morning.

“I’m told I have a familiar face,” Annalise says.

Harry shakes his head. “A woman as beautiful as you has a one-of-a-kind face. Nothing common about it at all.” For the first time, he grins.

“I like him,” she replies, a smile in her voice.