Cam dropped his head back against the chair and exhaled sharply.
For fuck’s sake.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he typed:
Didn’t know you were coming to Vegas.
He stared at the message.It was simple.Neutral enough. His thumb hovered over the send button before finally pressing it decisively. Enough.
Cam locked the phone and shoved it face-down onto the table. Immediately he wanted to check it again.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, running a hand over his face.
One of the engineers glanced over. “Everything okay?”
Cam forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.“Fine.”
The engineer returned to his laptop.
Cam stared at the telemetry screen in front of him.Rows of numbers blurred together.
His phone remained silent.
And despite everything—the championship fight, the pressure, the millions of people watching, the career he was supposed to be protecting—all he could think about was whether Scott had seen the message yet.
Or whether he wasbusywith someone else.
***
To Cam’s growing irritation, his phone was all he could think about during Free Practice 2.
The session itself was a blur.He hit his marks, he gave feedback, he adjusted brake bias and chased balance issues and discussed tire temperatures over the radio.But his concentration felt fractured, split between the car and the device sitting inside the garage.
Every time he drove past the pit wall, he caught himself wondering whether Scott had replied.
By the final run, he was actively counting down the laps.The moment the checkered flag fell, Cam was heading to the pit lane.
The car rolled into the garage.Before it had even stopped completely, Cam was undoing his belts.He barely had the patience to pull himself out of the cockpit.His helmet came off, thenthe balaclava, thenhis gloves—hepractically ripped them off and headed straight toward his assistant.“Phone.”
She blinked before handing it over.“Cam, you’re due in the media pen in ten minutes.”
Irritation flared, but ofcourse he was due in the media pen.Everyone wanted a piece of him—sponsors,journalists,engineers, fans—everyone except the one person he actually wanted to see.
Cam gave a curt nod and unlocked his phone.A message waited at the top of the screen.
Scott: I figured it was a good idea to let everyone see there’s nothing between us and that I’m seeing someone else.
Cam went completely still.
For a second, all the noise around him seemed to disappear.
Nothing between us. Seeing someone else.
His eyes locked on those words, his pulse thudding heavily in his ears.
Nothing in the message suggested Scott’s relationship with Nico Laurent wasn’t real.Nothing suggested this was merely a cover story. No.This had to be part of the plan.A publicity stunt.Damage control.The alternative made something ugly and insane twist inside his chest.
Before he could think better of it, his thumbs were already moving.