Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

I sniffle as more tears fall. It’s stupid yet cathartic to get these words off my chest. I sob silently while staring up at the sky, thinking of my parents watching me from above.

Time escapes me. The sun slowly rises, basking the Monaco racetrack in a golden glow.

The sliding door to Jax’s room squeaks opens. I rush to return back to my suite, but Jax’s voice stops me.

“You don’t have to go inside because of me. If you want, you can pretend I’m not even here.”

I wipe my cheeks with my sweater, willing away any impending tears. “That’s impossible. Trust me, I’ve tried.” I keep my back toward him as I stare at my sliding door, wondering what to do.

“Are you openly flirting with me? Now I’m concerned you’re sick.”

The weakest smile known to humankind graces my lips. I turn around and take up a spot leaning against the handrail, facing the rising sun. “I’m fine.”

“Mum taught me whenever a woman says that she is fine, then she is definitely, under no circumstances, fine.”

I let out a soft laugh. “Your mom sounds great.” My chest burns at the idea of not having mine.

We stand in silence for minutes. I gather control of my raging emotions while Jax stares ahead. The sun continues its slow climb.

Jax remains facing forward. “Yesterday an interviewer asked me what makes me feel alive.”

I turn my head toward him. “What happened to you keeping silent so I can pretend you’re not here?”

“I thought you hated how much I kept to myself. Here I am being nice and offering you a few breadcrumbs.” His lip twitches.

“I was raised on rice being an essential part of my food pyramid. Breadcrumbs are for women on terrible diets.” I hide my smile behind the sleeve of my sweater.

His laugh fills me with a surge of warmth, replacing the cold dread I’ve felt for the past twenty-four hours. “Well, be happy with what I’m willing to offer you. So...anyway... The reporter asked me what makes me feel alive, and I answered racing.”

“Okay, I don’t know if I’m struggling to follow you because I haven’t had coffee yet or because that’s not surprising.”

“Maybe a little of both. Well, I lied. Kind of—about the racing at least. Sunrises make me feel alive.”

Does Jax sound nervous or is it me overanalyzing things? “Why?”

Jax stays silent for a solid minute. He has me hooked, waiting for his response. “Because it reminds me of how I get to live another day.”

“That’s shockingly deep of you.”

“Your turn. You tell me, Elena Gonzalez, what makes you feel alive?”

I pause. “My job?”

He imitates a buzzer sound, and a rush of laughter escapes me. It feels good to laugh carelessly, to ease the ache in my chest. “Try again. No way that’s what makes you feel alive. If so, we need to find you some hobbies.”

“Fine. Okay.” I chew on my lip as I think up my response. “It’s going to sound so stupid.”

“You’re speaking to the man who makes more stupid decisions in one week than you could during your entire existence. Try me.”

“Rain,” I blurt out.

“Rain?” His voice matches the disbelief on his face.

“I knew it sounded stupid,” I mumble under my breath.

He closes the distance between us. His hand softly grasps my chin as he forces me to look at him. “I didn’t say that. You’re doing a shitty job explaining yourself, no offense. And that says something, coming from me.”

My body becomes attuned to his presence. It feels like touching an electric socket, with a spark causing a jolt to my heart. “The rain makes me feel alive because it reminds me that life’s a cycle. Water falls from above to be sucked back up again by the clouds eventually—round and round. I love the storm clouds before the first drops fall. Love how the rain feels against my skin, and I love the way it smells. It’s so weird, but my favorite days are the gloomiest. And it teaches us how even the ugliest storms can lead to a rainbow at the end.”