Chapter 33
Aria’s POV
The next few days were a blur of cold, tense exchanges between Liam and me. I kept my distance, barely speaking to him unless it was necessary, and when we did talk, the words were clipped and sharp.
It didn’t go unnoticed—gossip buzzed around the office, the team clearly picking up on the sudden shift in our dynamic.
Liam’s mood had soured, and it was no secret that we were bickering more than usual. Every interaction felt like a powder keg waiting to explode.
I was reviewing some emails at my desk when Jackson knocked on my door, leaning in casually. “Hey, Aria, everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I snapped before I could stop myself, my tone harsher than I intended. Jackson recoiled slightly, his usual easygoing demeanor faltering.
“Uh, no reason. You’ve just seemed... tense lately,” he said carefully, studying my face as if trying to gauge my mood.
“God, can you learn to mind your business?” The words were sharp and bitter, I regretted them the moment they left my mouth.
I sighed, immediately feeling guilty for taking out my frustrations on him. Jackson wasn’t the source of my anger. He didn’t deserve this. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just... dealing with a lot.”
Jackson gave me a small nod, but I could see the hurt flicker in his eyes. He didn’t push further, just offered a quiet “It’s all good,” before retreating back to his workspace.
I watched him go, the guilt gnawing at me. I hated that Liam had this kind of power over my emotions, even now.
I’d sworn I wouldn’t let him get under my skin again, but here I was—snapping at people, letting my frustration bleed into my work.
I rubbed my temples, trying to shake off the tension. I couldn’t keep letting Liam affect me like this. I had bigger things to focus on—things that didn’t involve him.
Later that day, I met up with Logan for the first time since our confrontation.
Joe had a soccer game, and Logan had offered to come along, his usual charm in place as we sat together on the bleachers.
The air between us was lighter than it had been in weeks, but something still felt off. Logan was guarded in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
We cheered as Joe chased the ball across the field, but my mind kept drifting to the conversation we’d had before. Logan had always been good at keeping his cards close to his chest, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something from me.
I glanced over at him as he clapped for the team’s winning goal, his smile easy and relaxed, but there was something behind his eyes—something he wasn’t saying.
“Joe’s getting better,” Logan commented, breaking my train of thought.
“Yeah, he loves playing. Says he wants to be a pro someday,” I replied, my eyes still on Joe.
Logan chuckled. “He’s got the determination for it.”
There was a brief pause before I spoke again, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Logan, you’ve been... different lately. Is everything okay?”
He stiffened slightly, though his expression remained neutral. “I’m fine, Aria. Just a lot on my plate, you know?”
I nodded, though I didn’t entirely believe him. There was something more, but I knew better than to press. Logan would tell me in his own time—if he ever decided to.
The game ended, and we congratulated Joe on his performance before heading back to our respective cars.
The conversation with Logan lingered in my mind, but I pushed it aside for now. I had more pressing matters to deal with—namely, the upcoming race.
Race day arrived, and with it came an avalanche of stress. The track manager, who usually coordinated logistics and communications, had fallen ill at the last minute, leaving me to step in and handle everything.
I wasn’t new to the chaos of race days, but this was more than I’d anticipated. Suddenly, I was responsible for juggling multiple roles—managing communications between the pit crew, Jackson, and the sponsors, while also making quick decisions about tire changes and race strategy.
The pressure was on.
I stood in the garage, headset on, scanning over the track as the cars zoomed by. My phone buzzed constantly with updates, questions, and the occasional panic from the crew.
It was one thing after another—sponsors needing information, crew members asking about last-minute adjustments, and Jackson checking in with me between laps.
“Aria, we’ve got an issue with the front left tire,” one of the pit crew members said through the comms, his voice tight with urgency.
I swore under my breath. “How bad is it?”
“We’re not sure yet. We’re checking it now.”
“Make it quick,” I ordered. “We don’t have time for this.”
Jackson’s voice came through next. “Do we need to pit?”
“Not yet,” I replied, trying to keep my tone calm despite the stress mounting around me. “Let’s see what the crew says.”
There was a brief pause before Jackson responded, his voice steady. “Copy that. Just let me know.”
As I waited for an update, I felt the weight of the entire team’s expectations pressing down on me. There was no room for error today—not with the stakes as high as they were.
I glanced at the monitors, watching Jackson’s car tear around the track, my mind racing with the dozens of decisions I still needed to make.
A few minutes later, the crew came back with the update. “The tire’s holding up for now, but it’s wearing down faster than expected. We’ll need to change it soon.”
I nodded, even though they couldn’t see me. “Prepare for a pit stop, but don’t call him in yet. Let’s see if we can squeeze another lap out of it.”
“Copy that.”
I turned my attention to the strategy board, mentally recalculating how this tire issue would affect our race. Every second counted, and we couldn’t afford to lose any more time than necessary.
I relayed the plan to the crew, my mind running on autopilot as I shifted gears from one problem to the next.
Just as we were preparing for the pit stop, another problem cropped up—a piece of equipment malfunctioned in the garage, causing a brief delay.
I clenched my fists, trying to keep my cool as the crew scrambled to fix it. “Get that sorted now,” I snapped into the headset, my patience wearing thin.
“Working on it,” one of the crew members replied.
I turned my gaze back to the track, watching as Jackson’s car zoomed by once more. We were cutting it close—too close. Every second of delay put us further behind, and I could feel the pressure building in my chest. But there was no time to dwell on it.
I had to keep moving, keep making decisions, or the race would slip through our fingers.
Hours later, after the dust had settled and the race was over, I finally allowed myself to take a breath. We’d managed to pull through, but just barely.
The pit stop had been smooth despite the tire issue, and Jackson had driven like a man possessed, pushing the car to its limits.
It wasn’t a perfect victory, but it was a victory nonetheless.
I stood in the garage, watching the crew pack up as Jackson approached, his face still flushed from the adrenaline of the race.
“Not bad,” he said, offering me a tired but genuine smile.
“Not bad yourself,” I replied, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to ease for the first time all day.
Jackson nodded, then paused, his expression shifting. “Hey, about earlier—sorry if I was pushing too hard.”
I shook my head. “You weren’t. It’s been a crazy day.”
He studied me for a moment, then gave a small shrug. “Still, I know things have been... weird lately, and I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
I appreciated his honesty, but I wasn’t ready to delve into all the reasons why things were so off. “Don’t worry about it,” I said simply. “We’ve all got stuff going on.”
Jackson didn’t push further, just nodded and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
As I stood there, watching the last of the crew load up the equipment, I couldn’t help but think back to everything that had happened over the past week—the tension with Liam, Logan’s guardedness, Joe’s questions about family.
Things were changing, whether I wanted them to or not. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for what came next.
