Chapter 29

Nix’s bike was taken out by a crash that weekend in France. He’d grumbled but gone back to the pit box and swooped upAlv’sson on the back of his bike before doing a lap.

The media had gone crazy. He’d signed his fine with a grin on his face.

Like everything was fine with him.

My contract withPrixtonwouldn’t start until the beginning of the next season. Not that it meant much. I’d still have to see him next year.

The only time we’d interacted was atAlv’sfuneral. Despite trying to avoid him, we ended up in the pew together and — under his suit jacket — he held my hand as tears filled his eyes.

But, back out in the sunshine, we’d ignored each other again. He had a new manager. I spoke to Nix through him.

So I did my job. I prepared forLuca’scharity boxing match, arranged interviews, held press releases, and coordinated questions from journalists before the races—not just forCiclatiorPrixtonbut for all ofStormSprint. I threw myself into my job to distract myself from the upcoming trial.

And I didn’t need to babysit NixonArmas. I hadn’t for some time.

Despite breaking theStormSprintrules and losing yet more points, Nix had nothing but positive articles. People were emotional for him and the loss of his friend.

It was when I was scrolling on my laptop that the text notification came through to my screen.

Nazmin: I can’t call right now but have you seen this?

The next text she sent was a link. It showed up with a photo of me andVinnyat an after party, his arm around my shoulders as we both smiled for the camera on a low velvet sofa, a drink in both our hands. But you couldn’t tell it was me; my face was blurred.

Before.

It was published 23 minutes ago.

Late Disgraced Tennis Star Vinny Garvs Accused of Rape.

My heart sprang up into my mouth, it’s beating pulsating in my throat, nearly making me throw up with every beat.

I couldn’t do this.

In my hotel room, I pushed back the chair and simply stared, knowing that when I clicked on the article, everything would change.

It was silly. I knew it as my hand hovered, reaching out. It was already out there for the world to see.

For me to see.

Nazmin’stexts were coming up underneath, but I paid them no attention.

I just looked at the picture of him. He always had an unapologetic toothy grin. He had always been relaxed about touching me. His hand cupped my shoulder. I could almost feel the warmth, the pressure of his disturbing touch through my pyjamas .

He’d been a friend. When I was in denial the weeks and months after, I’d still classed him as that.

Until I’d seen the photo that had leaked. We’d had sex. Sex had happened. That was clear.

There was proof.

But in the panic, in the refusal to accept what I knew, I’d let him sleep on my sofa when his wife kicked him out. I didn’t have the guts to recommend him a hotel.

He’d been my friend. Friends looked out for each other.

And when he made a move on me, half-drunk, I’d pushed him off and he’d let me be.

I’d locked my bedroom door.

Since I was a teenager, I’d always thought of myself as headstrong. I wouldn’t take any messing from anyone.

But, with this… a part of me had gone, knowing I’d been vulnerable to him before.

Knowing he took without permission. He’d already done it. With brutality.

But it wasn’t just my body. He’d taken my voice, my confidence, my fight.

On the outside, I’d smiled and nodded.

The inside was a different matter.

Even from beyond the grave, I couldn’t escape him.

I clicked the article almost aggressively, my heart still fluttering faster and faster.

There were very few details. The date. No name. The blurry picture he’d taken of us in bed that haunted my dreams.

But, at the bottom, it read, ‘This is a live story. New information to be released.’

Live? It was over a year ago.

Raayhadn’t published it. But her newspaper had .

I sat. I sat and stared, hands heavy at my sides. I sat and stared until I had sat and stared for so long that the screen went black and I was sitting and staring at my reflection in my dark hotel room.

The same girl who had been carefree and set on taking on the world.

My eyes felt dry as if I had cried. But I hadn’t.

I couldn’t even do that.

I reached for my phone and, though Nix’s name was on my favourites, I couldn’t cope if he didn’t pick up.

My brother was too far away.Salihawould get angry and research it to the high heavens. I just needed peace.

I calledLuca. He asked no questions other than who he could kill. I’d seen him box. He could do it.

Instead, he was gentle and let me sob without tears into his shirt until I fell asleep.