One Last Fling - Chapter 3
Lily
Lily spent the rest of the afternoon telling herself she didn’t care. Didn’t care that Cam didn’t have a contract, or that it was late enough in the season for that to be a disaster. Didn’t care that the knowledge sat heavy on her shoulders, unhelpful and unwanted. She cared about her lap times. She cared about tire wear. She cared about her own survival in the sport that meant everything to her.
And she absolutely did not care that Cam had looked at her like he trusted her with something fragile.
By the time the paddock thinned out, the sky had shifted into that soft, late-summer gold that made everything feel quieter than it really was. Lily lingered by her car, reviewing data on
her tablet.
Cam appeared in her peripheral vision. “Still here?”
She didn’t jump. She refused to give him that satisfaction. “Just working for a living.”
He leaned against the garage doorway, arms crossed, expression surprisingly easy. Like his head wasn’t on the chopping block. Like he hadn’t just upended their dynamic. Like he hadn’t given her a glimmer of hope, wrapped up in his own bad news.
“Can I walk you out?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
He smiled anyway. “I’ll walk behind you. For safety.”
“How do you know I won’t hurt you?”
“Promises, promises.” Despite her protest, they fell into step together, the silence stretching—not awkward, exactly. Loaded.
“You shouldn’t have told me,” Lily said finally. “About the contract.”
“Why?”
“Because now I have to think about it.” She stopped walking and turned to face him. “You know how bad it looks though, right?”
“Of course I do.” There was no joke. No deflection. “It’s my reality.”
Cam had an easy life in many ways, but this was any driver’s worst nightmare. Seats in Formula One were a scarcity of epic proportions. Sometimes, talent and money were not enough. Cam had both. Lily had one. They stood there, close enough that she could see the crease between his brows—the one that deepened when he was stressed. Close enough to remember what his mouth felt like, warm and certain.
“It’s one more reason we can’t do this,” she said, softer now. “You and me.”
“I know,” he said.
“Good.”
Neither of them moved. The space between them was charged, like the seconds before lights-out. Lily’s heart pounded hard and stupid in her chest. She told herself it was adrenaline. Leftover nerves. Anything but what it was. Cam lifted his hand, hesitated—hovering near her wrist, not touching. Lily drifted closer before she could stop herself. Before sense or fear or ambition could get its say. His breath hitched—just slightly—and then—
Someone laughed behind them.
They sprang apart like they’d been caught doing something against the sporting regulations, or at the very least, their team’s HR policy, which they absolutely had. Lily took another step back, pulse racing, and folded her arms like she could hold herself together by sheer will.
“That can’t happen,” she blurted.
Cam’s jaw tightened. “Lily—”
“I mean it. I can’t. We can’t.”
She turned and walked away double-time before he could say her name again. Then got to her hotel as fast as her feet would carry her.
She showered like she could rinse the feeling of Cam off her skin. Like hot water could drown out the echo of his voice, the warmth of his almost-touch. She crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling, counting breaths, counting laps, counting anything that wasn’t him.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She didn’t move. It buzzed again. With a sigh that felt like surrender, Lily picked it up.
Still thinking about you.
Her thumb hovered over the screen. But she didn’t text him back. Not yet.