What The Heart Wants (Sebastian Vettel)

45. First Steps To Recovery

Jessie rolled her eyes as she heard Seb's shouts coming from in the lounge. He was laid on the sofa watching the Spanish Grand Prix, and from the sound of it he wasn't impressed by how it was going.

"Oh come on for fucks sake. He's weaving! How can the FIA let him get away with it? Oh Jesus, what a fucking idiot!"

Jessie opened the fridge and took out the jug of orange squash she'd put in there to chill earlier that day. 

After pouring herself and Seb a glass each, she headed into the lounge. Seb had fallen quiet now but he had a face like thunder.   He had his arms folded across his bare chest, his plastered leg stretched out in front of him, resting on one of the cushioned dining chairs, which Jessie had brought in for him. He unfolded his arms as Jessie handed him his drink.

"Who's winning?" she asked, without even glancing at the television to find out for herself.   She wanted Seb to talk, he'd been so moody and bad tempered since they'd returned from Monaco six days earlier. 

"Max," he grunted. "Then it's Daniel.   Charles is in third."

"And what about Gio?" she asked.  Italian Antonio Giovinazzi was standing in for Seb until he was fit to race again. 

"Bloody tenth," Seb grunted again.   "Gasly is all over the place in front of him! You'd think they'd bring him in to undercut Pierre, but nope."

Jessie sat down next to him. She couldn't even begin to imagine how hard it was for him to watch someone else in his car while he was stuck at home.

"It's supposed to be another nice day tomorrow," Jessie began.  "Maybe we could have a drive somewhere, maybe to the coast for some fish and chips?"

"Long way to go for fish and chips," Seb replied, not taking his eyes off of the television screen. 

"Obviously it wouldn't be just for fish and chips.   We could have a nice walk along the esplanade. You're getting quite good on your crutches now."

"I don't think so."

Jessie sighed.   She knew that it was difficult for Seb, and he was still in quite a bit of pain, but it was doing him no good sitting around feeling sorry for himself.  

"Well what about the Spud pub then? We could have lunch, then come home and sit out in the back garden."

"Exciting," he muttered sarcastically.

Jessie bit her tongue and kept telling herself that he'd soon snap out of his bad mood once his leg healed. 

She glanced sideways at his bare torso.  The bruises on his shoulders and chest from his belts were still quite vivid, it had only been a week after all.  Her eyes moved down to his leg.   He was wearing a pair of light grey joggers despite it being extremely warm. Jessie had suggested he wore shorts but he'd declined. His reason was that he was going to to sit outside with a beer after the race and he didn't want to tan on just one leg.

Jessie's mouth twitched as she tried to stop herself laughing. The thought of Seb having his cast taken off to reveal a very pale leg while his other one was tanned was highly amusing

"Oh now you bring him in! What are they playing at? They should have boxed him at least four laps ago! If that was me..."

His voice trailed off. Jessie reached out and took his hand but he didn't even seem to notice. He began muttering under his breath in his mother tongue.

"What was that?" Jessie asked.

"Nothing," he snapped. Jessie let go of his hand. He was a right mardy bum. She got up and headed out of the room, deciding to leave him to his own devices while she went out to the back garden to check if the laundry was dry.