Chapter 36
Liam’s POV
The words from our last fight looped endlessly in my mind as I paced the empty office. I hadn’t been able to focus since Aria stormed out, her cold stare etched into my memory.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her standing there, accusing me of being the same man I was six years ago. It wasn’t the words that got to me; it was the look on her face—like I’d never be anything more to her than a mistake.
I needed to talk to her. Not another argument, not more shouting across the table in a meeting.
I needed her to understand that everything wasn’t as simple as she made it seem. I wanted to bring up what she wouldn’t—our past.
I waited until the office was nearly empty, the hum of computers and soft clicks of keyboards fading as the team clocked out for the night. When I saw her light still on, I knew it was time.
I walked down the hall, rehearsing how I’d start. By the time I reached her door, I was ready.
I pushed it open without knocking, catching her off guard.
"Liam," she said, looking up from her desk. "It's late. What do you want?"
I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. "We need to talk. Properly this time."
Her eyes narrowed. "I thought we already did."
"No, not about that," I said, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "About us."
She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "What now, Liam? I thought you made yourself pretty clear."
I took a deep breath, pushing past the sharp edge in her voice. “This isn’t about the team or Jackson’s race strategy. It’s about everything else—about what happened with us.”
“Seriously?” She stood up, crossing her arms. “You’re really going to drag up ancient history right now?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice firm. “Because it’s not ancient history. You think I don’t remember? Seeing your name on those divorce papers—it killed me.”
For the first time, her expression softened, just slightly. “What do you want me to say? You think it didn’t hurt me too? I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“I’m not saying you did,” I shot back, stepping closer. “But you didn’t fight it either. You walked away like it was nothing.”
Her eyes flared with anger. “Nothing? Is that what you think? That I didn’t care?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore, Aria. That’s the problem.”
She fell silent, glancing at her desk like it was her escape route. I could see the wheels turning in her head, calculating the fastest way to get out of this conversation.
But I wasn’t letting her off the hook.
“I never stopped caring,” I admitted, the words catching in my throat. “Even now, I can’t help it.”
“Then why do you make everything so hard?” she asked, her voice lower, but still sharp. “I spent so long trying to get you to understand, back then. To listen to me. Why won’t you give it up now?”
“Maybe because I’m scared of what happens if I don’t.”
The words hung in the air between us, both of us frozen by the weight of them. I didn’t expect to say it, but it was the truth. I’d been pushing her away because I couldn’t handle the idea of losing her again.
Aria was the first to break the silence. “You think you’re the only one scared?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re not the only one, Liam,” she said quietly. “I’m scared too. But I can’t keep doing this with you—this back and forth, this constant push-pull.”
Her words stung, but they were true. I had been doing that, whether I realized it or not. And for a second, I thought maybe—just maybe—we were finally getting somewhere.
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at the screen. It was Sophia.
“Of course it’s her,” Aria muttered, catching a glimpse of the name. “Go ahead, take it. I’m sure whatever Sophia has to say is more important than this.”
I didn’t move. “I’m not picking up.”
But the moment was gone. She shook her head and grabbed her bag. “I’m leaving. I can’t deal with this right now.”
I watched as she walked out the door, frustration boiling over inside me. Why was it always like this with her? One step forward, two steps back.
The second she started to open up, something pushed her away again. And I didn’t know how to stop it.
I found Logan at the track later that night. He was standing by the pit wall, staring at Jackson’s car as it was being prepped for tomorrow’s session. When he saw me, he didn’t look surprised.
“Figured you’d come,” Logan said, barely glancing my way.
“We need to talk.”
He chuckled, turning to face me. “Let me guess. This is about Aria again.”
I crossed my arms, not bothering to deny it. “Why are you messing with her?”
“I’m not ‘messing’ with anyone,” Logan said, his tone casual but his eyes cold. “If she chooses to be with me, that’s on her.”
“Don’t give me that,” I snapped. “You’re just using her to get back at me. I know it, and so do you.”
Logan’s smirk faded. “You think everything’s about you, don’t you? Maybe she just sees me as the better option.”
“You don’t even care about her. You’re doing this because of us—because of what happened between you and me.”
“Maybe I am,” Logan said, not even flinching. “So what?”
The calmness in his voice hit me harder than I expected. He wasn’t even denying it.
“You’re playing with her feelings,” I said through gritted teeth. “She doesn’t deserve that.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Logan said, his expression finally shifting, a trace of something darker beneath his usual arrogance. “But you’ve done more damage than I ever could.”
His words stuck with me as I left the track. Logan didn’t have to remind me of my mistakes—I carried them with me every day.
But what hurt more was the idea that maybe he was right. Maybe I had done more damage than I realized.
The next morning was chaos.
The press conference was in full swing when Jackson, Aria, and I arrived. The room was buzzing with journalists, cameras, and corporate reps, all eager to hear about our upcoming race.
Jackson had been performing well, and the pressure was starting to build.
As we took our seats at the front, I could sense the tension in the air. The rival team’s manager had been throwing subtle jabs all week, and today was no different.
It was only a matter of time before things escalated.
One of the journalists directed a question at Jackson, something innocuous about his strategy for the race.
Jackson answered confidently, but before he could finish, the rival team’s manager interrupted.
“Strategy, huh? From what I’ve seen, your team’s strategy is more like survival.”
A few snickers echoed through the room, and Jackson stiffened beside me. I could see the anger flicker in his eyes.
“Care to elaborate on that?” Jackson shot back, his tone sharper than usual.
“Oh, just saying what everyone’s thinking,” the manager said with a smirk. “You’ve been lucky so far, but we all know luck runs out eventually.”
The tension snapped. Jackson stood up, fists clenched at his sides. “Luck? Is that what you call winning?”
Before I could step in, the room erupted into a heated back-and-forth between Jackson and the manager. Cameras flashed, and reporters scribbled furiously, eager to catch every word.
“Enough!” I said, stepping between them. “This isn’t the time for this.”
Jackson’s anger simmered, but he sat back down, his jaw clenched tight. The manager gave one last smug smile before sitting as well, clearly satisfied with the reaction he’d provoked.
As the press conference wrapped up, I knew we’d have to do some serious damage control.
But all I could think about was the tension still hanging between Aria and me—and how much worse it was getting with every passing day.
I wasn’t just afraid of losing her anymore. I was afraid that I already had.
