Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I raise an eyebrow, curious. “Do what?”
“Race those cars at insane speeds, pull the kind of g-forces that could make you black out, and not lose your mind with fear?” She picks up a package of biscuits, inspecting it before placing it in the cart. “I mean, there have been some horrible crashes in FI, right? People… have died.”
Her question isn’t unexpected, but the sincerity in her voice makes me pause. I lean against the cart, considering my response. “You have to have a certain level of fearlessness… or what some might label stupidity,” I say with a teasing tone before I give her the sobering reality. “But honestly, it’s about confidence in your abilities, in the car and in your team. I’ve built my skill set over years of hard work and that becomes second nature. You learn to trust the car, to feel every twitch and vibration through the steering wheel. But yeah… the crashes… they happen.”
Posey nods, her eyes focused on me as she listens intently. “And the money? That must help make the risk easier to accept, right? I read you have a twenty-million-dollar contract.”
I can’t help but laugh softly. “Plus bonuses for podiums and fastest lap. The money’s nice, I won’t lie, but when you’re behind the wheel, it’s not about that. You’re thinking about the win, the strategy, the competition. The money… it’s a just reward for risking my life to help make Crown Velocity lots of money. But there are times when the risk hits home. My parents, for example… they’re proud, but they worry. My mum—she tries not to show it, but I know she’s terrified every time I’m on the track.”
“Do you ever get scared?” Posey asks, her voice almost hesitant, as if she’s not sure she wants to hear the answer.
I glance away for a moment, considering a question that has never been asked of me.
Not once in my career.
“Yeah, I do. Every time I get in the car, there’s this small knot of fear. But I think that’s healthy. It keeps you sharp, makes you respect the danger. The minute you stop feeling that fear, that’s when you do something stupid.”
Posey is silent for a moment, processing my words. Then she looks up at me, her eyes soft. “I was terrified when I published my first book,” she admits quietly. “I mean… not the same thing as driving a race car, but I was putting my work out there… it felt like I was baring a piece of my soul to the world. My fear was of rejection and ridicule. I still feel it every time I release a book.”
I nod, understanding more than I expected to. “I’d call that brave. It takes guts to put yourself out there like that.”
A soft smile spreads across her lips, and for a moment, we just stand there, the noise of the supermarket fading into the background as we share a quiet understanding.
Two radically different careers, but both of us operating with fear and courage—her work as an author demands no less than what’s required of me to race cars.
We continue on to the next aisle and as we turn the corner, three young women approach us, all with wide eyes and eager smiles. It’s clear they recognize me, and I brace for the usual routine.
“Lex!” one of them squeals, holding up her phone. “Can we get a picture with you? And maybe an autograph?”
The other two chime in, their eyes raking over me with the kind of admiration that’s both flattering and exhausting. They don’t even glance at Posey.
“Of course,” I say, plastering on my media-friendly smile as I sign one of the women’s grocery receipts and pose for a few quick selfies. One of the girls, a blond with a coy smile, steps a little closer.
“I’d absolutely kill myself with regret if I didn’t ask,” she says, her voice dripping with suggestion. “What are you doing tonight? Maybe we could meet up?”
I see Posey shift uncomfortably out of the corner of my eye, and something inside me stretches taut, thrumming with irritation.
I reach over, taking Posey’s hand and pulling her close, letting the weight of her presence ground me. “Sorry, ladies,” I say smoothly, giving them a small, apologetic smile. “I’ve got plans tonight.”
The three women are clearly disappointed, their eyes narrowing slightly as they finally take in Posey standing beside me. With a few murmured goodbyes, they walk off, casting doleful glances over their shoulders.
As soon as they’re out of sight, Posey jerks her hand away, looking at me with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “What was that?”
I shrug, a bit sheepish. “Sometimes the attention gets to be too much. You’re the one who pointed out to me it’s the same thing over and over again. They’re not interested in who I am, just the idea of me. It’s… exhausting.”