Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

He looks down at our hands as if he can sense our weird bond too. “My mum has Huntington’s Disease. It’s genetic and shitty as fuck, which means there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’m going to end up with the same disease. That diagnosis would ruin any chance at a normal life. No forever and always. No happy ending. Nothing except a future riddled with pain for me and whatever family I have. I refuse to drag anyone down with me, watching me fade into a person they don’t recognize.”

Tears pool in my eye ducts. “God, Jax, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s nothing I haven’t accepted.”

“But have you? You act like a fifty-fifty chance is the end. Aren’t there tests to check if you have this disease in the first place?”

“I’m not one of your damn puzzles. There’s no way to solve the problems in my life because I don’t want the test results. I can’t imagine going through life if I test positive, knowing the outcome of that kind of disease. I already met with a genetic counselor last year and decided against testing, so there’s no use trying to convince me.”

“But you’re assuming knowing you have it is worse than not knowing. It can’t be healthy either way.”

His jaw ticks. “Stop psychoanalyzing me.”

“I’m not trying to. I only want to help you see other options.”

“You need to accept my choice. Your job is to keep an eye on me and help me with my reputation. That’s it. We can be attracted to one another—hell, we can kiss and fuck and do every dirty thought I’ve played in my head over and over, but this can never turn into anything more.”

Can I deal with something like that? If my work reputation wasn’t at risk, would I want to try for more with Jax?

Jax softly tugs his hand out of my grasp. “Shit. Don’t bother thinking about that offer. You deserve more than that. You deserve more than me.” His back is the last thing I see before he enters his suite and shuts the door.

I drop onto the couch, attempting to wrap my mind around Jax’s revelation.

After an hour of thinking and researching, I come to a conclusion. Jax needs to believe in his future. He needs to want something more in life than succeeding with Formula 1. But most of all, he needs me to show him there’s more to life than the things we fear.

If we let the nightmares define us, then we lose sight of our dreams.

22

Elena

While Jax completes his qualifier for the Hungarian Grand Prix, I meet with Connor to check in on Jax’s progress. We sit in his office, mulling over the positives of Jax’s career and where he can still use improvement.

“You’ve truly done an amazing job. I didn’t think he’d keep it together for this long.”

“I have a few more things planned for him. Some extra one-on-one activities with a few hard-core fans.”

“He’d like that. He’s not one for meeting with too many people at one time.”

“Yeah, anxiety tends to do that to people.”

“Even that’s improved for him. Thank you for suggesting the therapist, by the way. That was a great idea and even some of the crew members have been benefiting from the help.”

I blush. “It’s the least I could do. I’ve read the research on athletes and I had only hoped it would work for these guys.”

“Not to change the subject, but I’ve been meaning to ask you about something I’ve noticed.”

Are people talking about Jax and me? God, please don’t ask what I thin

k you’re going to ask.

He laughs to himself. “I don’t mean to cause you any alarm, but it’s hard for me not to say something.”

I bob my head up and down, unsure if I could say anything at the moment. Dios, dame paciencia. My heart can’t catch a break this week. It beats rapidly in my chest, and my knee shakes as I bounce my leg up and down.

“I notice Jax fancies you. The other day I caught him staring at you for a long period of time at a McCoy debriefing. I wanted to ensure you don’t feel uncomfortable or think that your job is in jeopardy if you deny his advances.”

Seeing as Jax has shoved his tongue down my throat on three separate occasions, I’d definitely say it’s a little too late for this conversation.