The downside to having this unexpected bit of free time on my hands was that I found it difficult to put Dyson out of my thoughts for long.

Making matters worse, Marco called and messaged me multiple times a day. The team was already in New York, testing and getting the cars ready for the final race.

It was about midmorning when I left home, heading out to run a couple of errands before picking Simon up at school later that day. Exiting my apartment, I walked in the direction of my car, squinting and fumbling around in my purse looking for my sunglasses.

“Oh,” I groaned, looking down inside my bag. “Come on, where the hell are they?”

I stopped in place, searching for another second or so, until at last, I found them. I pulled them out, looked both ways and then took a single step towards my car before freezing in my tracks.

Less than twenty feet away, leaning against the side of my vehicle, stood Dyson. Even from a distance, he looked like hell. Bruises and cuts covered his arms and face.

We stood there in silence, just looking at one another. I felt torn between wanting to hug him, thrilled to see him alive, and wanting to kick him in the balls for treating me like he did the last time we were together. After another moment or so, I swallowed hard, whipped my purse strap across my shoulder and marched in his direction.

He eased himself away from the side of my car, wincing at the same time. At that point, I really wasn’t interested in hearing about his pain or injuries, only telling him what was on my mind, once and for all.

“What are you doing here, Dyson?” I began, pointing my index finger in his direction. “Do you have any idea, any, how mad I am with you? Because if you don’t, you need to. You owe me an apology, and it better be a damn good one, or otherwise you can just get the hell out of here. Do I make myself clear?”

Dyson never took his eyes off me. He slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“You’re right, Ava,” he began, shaking his head and looking down at the ground. He kicked at a piece of loose gravel on the pavement. “Everything you said, you’re right. I was a piece of shit. I didn’t mean what I said. I’ve missed you, and I was a fucking idiot. I don’t expect you to accept that from me, but it’s true.”

He paused for a moment, looking up at me once again.

“But I did mean what I said about racing. I’m done with Formula One for good.”

I’d crossed my arms at my chest while I listened to him.

“Are you finished, Dyson?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Without hesitating, I uncrossed my arms and slapped him as hard as I could, once on each cheek. Stunned, Dyson reached up and touched the side of his face.

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “I deserved that and…”

“Shut up, Dyson,” I replied, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Just shut up and listen to me.”

He raised his hands in front of his body in a gesture of mock surrender.

“I slapped you twice for a reason. The first one is for treating me like you did, and the second one is for giving up on yourself.”

He slid his hands back in his pockets once more. I continued.

“You know how I feel about you. I’ve made that clear. Do you want to be with me? Just tell me right now. I don’t have time for any more games.”

He nodded at me. “Yeah, of course I do.”

Once he’d finished, I took another step towards him, poking him in the chest.

“Okay then,” I began, licking my lips for an instant. “You need to get back on that racetrack. Because I’ll tell you right now, the last thing I’m going to do is come and pick your body up from the morgue because you pull another ridiculous stunt like that motorcycle crash the other day.”

I paused for a fraction of a second. Dyson tried to say something, but I put my hand up in front of his face.

“I’m not finished.” I began, increasing the volume of my voice. “This is how it’s going to be. You either go back to racing, or don’t bother coming back here for me because I’m not interested.”

Done with what I wanted to say, I stepped back and crossed my arms, feeling liberated. Dyson just stood there, his mouth hanging open a fraction, with a look of disbelief on his face.

“Well, don’t you have anything you want to say to me?” I asked.

“No,” he began, reaching up towards his mouth and sliding the back of his palm across his lips. The muscles in his forearm and bicep flexed.

“But there is something I want to do.”

Just then, he reached for me, thrusting his hands around the back of my head, sliding his fingers into my hair. Dyson curled his fingers under and pulled my mouth towards his, crushing our lips together. I resisted at first, caught off guard by his sudden movement. But soon, my hesitation melted away in the heat of his embrace.

Dyson inhaled, groaning as he thrust his tongue inside of my mouth. I consumed him, overcome with the need to be with him again. For what seemed like several minutes, we continued to embrace under the warmth of the late morning sun. I’d almost slipped away entirely under his spell, were it not for a familiar voice calling out from across the parking lot.

“Get a room!”

We separated from each other and I snapped my head in the direction of the voice. Jillian had just come home and was walking towards the apartment. She gave us a casual wave and a smile and then continued inside. If she was displeased, I’d hear about it later. For now though, I laughed a little and turned to look at Dyson.

His full lips, still wet from our kiss, curled upwards in a wry smile.

“Well, at least that wasn’t embarrassing,” he said, winking at me.

I shook my head and smiled in return.

“So,” he began. “Am I forgiven?”

I shrugged. “That all depends on you. Are you going to race again?”

He glanced at me for a moment before reaching up and running his hand through his hair. “I wish it was that simple, Ava. I’m still suspended, remember?”

“So you never heard from Marco or Dieter?”

Dyson shook his head. “I, um, broke my phone before I wrecked. I told my family I didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, so I haven’t been answering calls coming to the house. Is there something I need to know?”

I told him about the conversation I’d had with Gunter. It probably goes without saying that Dyson was shocked by the turn of events. If he was ready, nothing stood between him and getting back in the car. The suspension was lifted and he was free to return to the team.

“Wow,” he said, leaning against my car once more. “So they came to you to try and convince me to come back?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Hmm, well, I gotta say I’m more than a little surprised.”

“So does that mean that you’re going to race?”

Without speaking, Dyson raised his hand and motioned for me to approach with his index finger. I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment.

“Come on,” he said. “Come here.”

I stepped towards him, stopping between his feet. “I’m here.”

He reached for my hands, wrapping his fingers around mine. “I’ll go back out there on one condition.”

I leaned away from him a bit, arching an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“That you go with me. I won’t do it without you.”

DYSON

When I rejoined the team in New York, the first thing I did was sit down with Dieter, Darren and Marco. Things weren’t ever going to be perfect between us, but we still had a shot to take the championship from Gunter.

More than anything, I wanted to put aside our differences for the time being. After the season ended, there’d be plenty of time to talk. The thing about winning though, it cuts through a lot of the bullshit. And now that I was back, winning was the only thing on my mind.

I won’t lie. The first couple of runs on the track weren’t my best. Soon however, the feel started to come back and it wasn’t long before I was running about as well as I ever had. My speed didn’t go unnoticed, and between runs one day, Gunter approached me in the pits.