Chapter Twenty-Two
A cold chill had washed over Max, running ice through his veins and freezing his gaze. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears and his thumping heart was about to leap out his throat. His hands, still gripped around the steering wheel, had gone numb.
He couldn't blink.
His eyes were fixated on the crumpled girl ten feet away from him. It was a hallucination. It had to be. Some sort of oxygen-deprivation symptom he'd gotten from being inside the car too long. That could happen, he was sure of it. He'd heard of drivers losing vision or feeling faint after intense races like Singapore.
Yet, it wasn't going away.
Even when his eyes gave into instinct and blinked, the image of Dylan on the floor didn't go away. He felt like he was going to be sick. His heart had never raced like this, not even in the scariest moments of his career when he'd wondered if he was going to live or die.
What the fuck had he just watched happen?
"Max, go! You have to go!"
Go? Where was he meant to go?
The only logical place he should go right now was outside of his car and next to her. She needed help. She was on the floor and she needed to be safe, preferably with him.
But he was still frozen.
Dylan was beginning to float back into consciousness, the chaos of the garage becoming louder along with a persistent ringing in her ears. She was dazed, and a little confused about where she was and what had happened, but the one thing she knew for sure was that her body felt like it had been hit by a truck.
She couldn't put her finger on where the pain was coming from but her limbs felt heavy and her head hazy. She couldn't feel her tongue in her mouth and her fingers weren't cooperating when she tried to move them.
"It's just 18 laps! Go, now!"
GP was shouting at somebody. She'd heard his voice a million times and she could hear it now, but it sounded like it was in the far-off distance.
Was she dreaming?
Max registered the shout from his engineer and it did the job of jolting him out of his freeze but the numbness was replaced with a breathless feeling of panic. This was horrendously new and it was like he'd been sucker punched in the chest. His fingers fumbled over the steering wheel buttons as he suddenly became aware of where he was again. A sharp beep from his console told him he had definitely pressed the wrong button.
"Shit. What?" He mumbled, trying to move his head but getting blocked by the confined space of the car.
He wanted to get out. He wanted to go to her.
"Max. Go!"
"Fuck!" Max shouted as his body worked faster than his brain and slammed on the accelerator.
Dylan heard the roar of engines and felt the cool breeze of a car rushing past. Piece by piece, things seemed to come into focus but she still hadn't opened her eyes. She wasn't sure why; maybe she was scared, maybe she believed she was dreaming, or maybe she just needed a few seconds longer to figure out what the hell was happening.
What had she been doing?
"Can someone call the med team?" Another voice called out.
A series of footsteps followed, some coming towards her and some running away. She felt the thud against her head and it accentuated the pounding. She tried to open her mouth and ask for them to quiet down but she couldn't get her body to cooperate and she continued to lay motionless on the floor.
Wow, her brain was spinning.
Out on the track, Max had his foot to the floor as his brain fought between the half that wanted to push everything out and focus on the race and the half that was willing him to abandon the car and go running back to the garage. His heart hadn't slowed and he couldn't tell whether the adrenaline was from the race or from the utter panic he felt.
He needed to know what was happening. Nobody had told him anything, how could they expect him to drive like there was nothing wrong when absolutely everything was wrong?
His radio channel was public and he knew he should keep his mouth shut but he was going to crash this car if he didn't hear some kind of news. Maybe it was for the best though. Maybe something even worse was happening whilst he was driving and they were keeping it from him on purpose.
The turmoil in his head was too much and his hands slammed down on the wheel in frustration as he opened his radio channel, "Fuck! Is she okay?"
At the same time, the garage was also stood divided; half of Max's team were focused on getting him to actually complete the race and the other half were now acting in a sort of ordered panic as they raced to find the med team, keep the media away, and figure out what had just happened in the blink of an eye.
Hunter couldn't take his eyes off the crumpled body of Dylan on the floor. His mind was running overtime with thoughts, wondering what had happened, whether could he have stopped it, and what he could do now. He shouldn't have told her to get the shot, he shouldn't have told her to stand so close to the cars, and he definitely should have realised the Ferrari was coming down the pit straight.
Mike had run off to try find the med team with Jacob in tow, leaving Tom stood still with his hand over his mouth as he tried to wrap his head around what had just happened. None of them had ever heard of something like this happening in recent years and the fact that it had happened to Dylan was worse.
She went out of her way every day to speak to every person, always with a bright smile and some positive reassurance. She did her best to uplift the team, even when she was low, and now there was nothing they could do. In that moment, a team of grown men felt entirely helpless.
Dylan was stirring again, becoming increasingly aware of the sounds and movements around her. The numbness was gradually abating and the ground felt hard underneath her, with bits of rock and pebble digging into her hands and cheeks. Her head was still spinning and she didn't want to face the light; the darkness wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.
"Dylan?" Cool hands pressed against her forehead, moving her hair out of the way before coming to rest on her shoulders, "Dylan, can you hear me, darling?"
It was a familiar voice speaking to her and she groaned as she rushed back into full consciousness, the feeling like lurching forward on a rollercoaster.
Against her will, her eyes fluttered open and she winced at the bright lights of the garage and the headache that rapidly grew in intensity. The world came slightly more into focus as she blinked, and she recognised Brad crouching over her, a deeply concerned look on his face. In the distance, she could hear the whizz of racing cars and the cheers of the crowd.
"Brad?" She mumbled, confused.
He smiled kindly but it looked forced, "Hello, darling. Glad you're awake."
She'd never seen him look so concerned before and slowly, the horrifying realisation of where she was began to set in. As memories flashed back to the front of her mind, Dylan felt her heart rate pick up. Her stomach jumped into her throat, her chest tightened, and she rushed to sit up and understand the situation.
"Hey, hey, easy now." Brad held her shoulders firmly, keeping her from wriggling, "Med team's coming so just stay still for me."
Was she really hurt?
Everything was still so numb and confusing that she couldn't make sense of anything.
The look on Brad's face said she was in a potentially very dangerous situation and with the way he was holding her steady, she couldn't sit up and regulate her breathing. Each breath felt increasingly shallow and that band around her chest grew tighter as her fear increased.
"Please-" She coughed, her head swimming as she panicked, "Can you- I need..." Her voice trailed off as she gasped for a clearer breath.
An agonising pain was slowly spreading through her body, unlike anything she had ever felt before. Even in the thick humidity of Miami, she felt ice-cold and her body began to shake as she persisted in the panic.
"Dylan, take a deep breath for me now."
Black dots were flashing in her vision now and she desperately tried to regain control of herself but to no avail. Desperate for respite, she gasped out for the one thing she needed.
"Oh my- please...Brad, please I just n- can you...get Max?"
Before he could answer her, Dylan gave into the temptation to slip back into the comfortable darkness and everything went quiet for her once more.
"She's with Brad. 6 more laps - mode push."
Max heard the radio message and felt the panic in him slightly subside. It was a good that Brad was with her as he knew his trainer would do everything in his power to look after her but he hated that GP hadn't mentioned whether she was awake or not. The idea of her still laying there unconscious had him feeling an unusual sick sensation.
GP's voice broke through his in-ears again, "Repeat, mode push. We are 2 seconds behind Leclerc."
He grunted, anger clouding his judgement. The smell of burning tyres filled the air as Max gained speed, fuelled by the replaying image of Leclerc hitting Dylan with his car and driving away. If he couldn't abandon his race, he was at least going to make sure Leclerc didn't stand a chance of winning.
His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.
Back in the garage, Dylan had come to once more and was relieved to find that her breathing had settled and her pain had lessened. She couldn't really remember what had happened; all she could recall was a terrifying feeling of fear. While she'd been out, the medical team had arrived and administered some liquid ibuprofen, a fairly low-level pain relief but enough to take the edge off.
Brad had never felt relief like seeing her open her eyes again. He'd turned away to hide the single tear that had fallen from his eye and instead just smiled reassuringly at her. Since the start of the season, Dylan had truly become like a daughter to him and that feeling of helplessness that he'd felt while watching her hyperventilate and pass out in his arms would stay with him for a while.
Nevertheless, she was awake again and he stayed with her as the doctors asked endless questions and poked and prodded her.
To Dylan's surprise, they ascertained that she didn't have any major injuries, which felt unbelievable considering the amount of pain she was in. It seemed that the tyres she had crashed into had actually been a blessing as they'd stopped her flying straight into a concrete wall and effectively absorbed some of the impact. That, and the fact that Charles had been driving at a reduced speed in the pit lane, had saved her from life-altering damage.
She had a mild concussion but outside of that, they informed her that she had just significantly strained and bruised her body. She might have some nasty bruising around her hips where she'd taken the hit but with rest, the initial pain would subside over a couple days and she would be completely alright. It was the closest thing to a miracle that she'd ever experienced.
The decision was made to put Dylan on a stretcher and carry her to the Red Bull medical room so she could be more comfortable while they decided whether her concussion required a hospital visit.
Unfortunately for Dylan, her requests to be jabbed with some morphine and left to sleep were largely ignored. Brad was her only relief; he stayed with her the whole time, holding her hand and squeezing it tight every time she moved and another tear fell from her eyes.
As she was being uncomfortably transferred to the Red Bull room, grimacing at every bump and turn, she heard loud cheers and screams erupt from the garage. That could only mean Max must have finished in P1 and the thought of that made her smile. At least it was good news for the team.
Hopefully, Hunter grabbed some great footage at the podium. She didn't even know where her camera was or what state it was in. For all she knew, the Ferrari car had driven over it.
The examination bed in the medical room was not any more comfortable than the stretcher and, to be honest, not even that much more comfortable than the ground. The medical staff left the lights on and the TV playing so she wouldn't fall asleep with her concussion and die - okay, that wasn't their exact terminology - but all it was doing was amplifying Dylan's headache tenfold.
She was glad to have Brad with her. He'd pulled up a chair and sat next to her, his hand still firmly holding onto hers.
"You gave us a bit of a scare there, darling."
"I'm so sorry, I can't believe what a stupid thing that was. I shouldn't have been anywhere near the cars."
He smiled kindly, "It's okay, accidents happen. Nobody can say you're not dedicated to your job, at least!"
"God, this has been a disastrous weekend." Dylan laughed, wanting to shake her head at how many things had gone wrong.
"I'm not sure if you were aware..." Brad said, "but when you woke up before and you couldn't breathe properly, the one person you asked for was-"
"Carlos, I know." She interrupted him, "It was a dumb thing to ask, I know he's in a race. I wasn't thinking properly, I guess. I rely on him too much with that kind of thing."
"No, darling." He corrected her gently, "The person you asked for was Max."
Dylan paused, her eyebrows raised in surprise. The memory of the panic attack was blurry; she knew she'd been desperately trying to talk but she didn't recall what she said. It had always been Carlos who was her first port of call for help in those scenarios. Yet, in the scariest of moments, when her worst thoughts spun around her head, taunting her with fears of life-threatening injuries, and she was barely conscious and cognizant of what she was saying...she'd asked for Max.
As Dylan was pondering this, a deep frown on her face, Brad's phone buzzed.
"I've got to go." He stood up, reaching down to kiss the top of her head, "You just stay here, okay? Call me if you need anything and I'll try find Carlos for you."
After he reluctantly left her alone in the room, the time passed by slowly, and she remained in a state of boredom and pain. It was hard not to know what was happening outside or exactly how the race had ended. She knew all her team would be preoccupied for a while with Max's race win so she resigned herself to what would probably be a long wait.
It gave her time to reflect on her absolutely idiotic actions from today. She'd been so dumb stepping anywhere near the pit lane, even in an area she expected to be safe. The smart decision would have been to film a practice pit stop but hindsight was always 20/20. She only hoped she hadn't damaged the Ferrari rear wing in some way - that would be an expensive fix and slightly out of her budget.
About half an hour later, just as Dylan was about to throw something at the lightbulb to turn it off, the door opened and in came her cousin, a frantic look on his face.
"Ay chiquita, I'm so glad you're okay. I can't believe it." He rushed over to her before coming to a stop, clearly hesitant to cause Dylan any pain.
She'd not seen him since their argument on Thursday and she realised suddenly how much she'd missed him.
"Come on, give me a hug." Dylan smiled, "A gentle one though!"
Carlos carefully wrapped his arms around his cousin before placing a small kiss on her forehead. His heart had been pounding ever since Charles had grabbed him at the end of the race and it only slowed now he could see with his own eyes that she was okay.
Something cold dripped onto her face and the smell of sweat and champagne hit her. Even with a head injury, she could work out what that meant.
"You were on the podium!"
Carlos nodded, "Yes, P3. Probably because they didn't tell me what had happened with you. They made us do the podium ceremony still. You know I would've been here straightaway otherwise."
What Carlos didn't tell her was that it had been the weirdest post-race event he'd ever experienced. When Charles had pulled him into a quiet corridor outside of the cool-down room, he hadn't known what to expect but his friend was crying and sporting a black eye from God know's where. As soon as Charles told him what had happened, he'd seen red and wasted no time in adding his own bruise to his teammate's collection.
On the podium, the weirdness had continued. All three drivers had stood solemnly in their places. Charles had been trying not to look like he'd been crying, Carlos had been fervently checking his watch, and Max had kept his eyes straight ahead, numb to the cheers below him. They'd all followed through on the mandatory champagne spraying but anyone looking closely at the drivers would have seen that they weren't even smiling.
Luckily, Carlos' Team Principal, Mattia, knew about his familial relationship with Dylan and allowed him a short time to see her before he was required for media duties.
"Well, I'm glad they didn't tell you then, I would've been so mad if you ruined your race." Dylan said, "Congratulations though! That's a huge achievement and I'm really proud of you."
"Thank you. And you're definitely okay? Nothing's broken? The doctors give you medicine? I can go find-"
"Carlos! I'm fine, I promise. You don't need to worry."
Dylan watched as her cousin's face changed from concerned to annoyed. He blew out a harsh breath, clearly trying to hold his thoughts back but then- "What were you thinking, Dylan?! How could you not watch where you were going? Díos, you could have been seriously hurt! You don't know how lucky you are! I just..."
He trailed off and Dylan's heart ached as she watched her cousin so beside himself with worry. She hadn't meant to cause him so much stress, and this was the last thing he should be doing after earning a podium.
"I'm sorry Carlos, it was truly an accident. I was trying to stay out of the way of Red Bull and I didn't realise I had backed up towards Ferrari. And there was no radio call to say Ferrari were going to pit at the same time as us. We thought you were waiting until the last few laps."
Carlos sighed, "Yes, it was a plan we were trying. We had code-words rather than announcing our stops. Clearly something I will not let us do again."
"I'm really sorry."
"I know you are, chiquita, it's not your fault." He placed another kiss on her head, "I'm sorry I haven't really spoken to you this weekend. I know you did nothing wrong at the dinner, I just see him talking to you and after everything he's done, I just..."
"I know, I know." She reassured him, "But I promise it was nothing bad. In fact, we really need to talk abo-"
"It's fine, we can talk later. I don't have much time. I have to go switch media duties with Charles." Carlos shook his head, "He's feeling very guilty, by the way."
"I'll speak to him later, I don't want him to feel guilty. It was my fault and it was an accident."
"He still should've realised. We can see out the cars." Her cousin grumbled.
"Don't you dare say that to him!"
Carlos' face flushed red with the guilty look she'd seen so often in their childhood. He averted his gaze and mumbled an unconvincing sound of agreement but she was onto him, "Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro, what did you do?"
Her cousin groaned at the use of his full name, "You're my baby cousin, chiquita. I'm always going to defend you."
"That's not an answer."
Carlos jumped up, casually walking backwards towards the door, "You know, I've got to go do press but I'll be back in a bit to take you to the hotel. Adiós!"
Dylan rolled her eyes at her cousin's antics as he raced out the door. God only knows what empty threats he yelled at poor Charles. With a podium finish, Carlos would have additional media duties and it would probably be a while until he could take her back to the hotel so she settled back in for a long wait.
She switched her eyes back to the TV and squinted at the flashing colours. The local news channel was playing and she tried to find an interest in weather reports and pharmaceutical adverts. The way that Americans advertised on TV was so strange to her.
A while later, a knock at the door came and it almost made her jump. Dylan called for the person to come in and was surprised to see Charles, race suit tied around his hips and two alarming new bruises on his face.
"Charles!" She cried out in shock at the state of him, but before she could get any questions out, he was in front of her, clasping her hands and spewing apologies.
"Dylan, I am so so sorry. God, there aren't enough words to describe how sorry I am. I can't believe I've done this to you, I will never ever forgive myself for such a horribl-
"Charles Leclerc, you stop talking right now!"
He stopped, his mouth partially hanging open as he stood ready to continue his apologies at any given moment.
"This was entirely my fault, I was stood too close to your pit entry. I didn't realise I was in your line. You have nothing to apologise for."
Charles shook his head, "I still should've seen you. I could've swerved. And you didn't know we were pitting! That's all my fault, they were trying to trick Mercedes and I just-"
"You did nothing wrong, Charles. I'm the one who's truly sorry for being in your way and causing a mess. You really have nothing to apologise for, yes?"
He hesitated, "I think I would still like to apologise for a bit, if that's okay with you."
"You can submit it to me in writing, I don't want to hear any more apologies today." She laughed.
Charles joined her laughter and the pair relaxed as they absolved the blame of the incident. Dylan was already feeling guilty for the drama she'd caused her garage, the distress she'd caused Carlos, and the PR storm she'd likely brought down on Ferrari's door so to make things okay with Charles was one thing she could at least fix for now.
"Now let's talk about your face." She started, "Was that my cousin's doing?"
"You can't get mad at him, it was completely deserved. I promise I didn't fight back." Charles frowned.
"God- I'm not worried about that, I just can't believe he would hit you, let alone twice! I mean, you did nothing wrong and I told him that."
Charles looked a little sheepish, "Uh- Carlos didn't hit me twice."
"But you..." Dylan frowned, looking at the two clear bruises on Charles' face - one on his jaw and the other blooming below his left eye.
"Max gave me the other one." Charles scratched his neck awkwardly, not making eye contact.
Dylan paused.
She didn't know what to make of that.
"Max?" She clarified.
Charles nodded, "Yeah, I-uhm had a bit of a lead on him because after what happened, you know, he stayed at the pit stop for a while and then I guess he got yelled at because the next thing I know he was overtaking me and setting the fastest course laps I've ever seen. He finished the race in a record time I think. Anyway - he was waiting for me when I got into the cool-down room and yeah. I guess he was mad that I'd messed up his pit stop, maybe?"
"Oh..." Dylan mumbled, unsure what to think, "Well, I'm sorry, Charles. Neither of them should have done that to you."
Charles stayed and talked cheerfully with Dylan for another twenty minutes until Carlos finished up his media duties. He even turned down the TV volume and brightness for her but made sure she stayed awake.
When her cousin came back, both he and Charles gripped her hands as the medical staff talked to her. She would need to check in with the team doctor over the next couple weeks but aside from that, the most effective treatment was rest. They strongly emphasised that they meant total rest, and warned her that she would be in fairly excruciating pain over the next couple days as her body recovered from the shock and healed itself. She needed to be watched overnight in case of any worsening concussion symptoms but they expected she'd be fine.
She heard both Charles and Carlos breath a sigh of relief at this.
Ignoring Dylan's protests, the doctors insisted that she travel by wheelchair for the first 48 hours whilst her body started to heal and then she was fine to start moving around again as long as she kept up with pain medication.
Once all the staff had left, Carlos kindly helped her into the wheelchair and pushed her out to the Red Bull common area. Charles disappeared to Ferrari to collect their belongings and sign off with Mattia before they left for the hotel.
"Wait here and I'll go find your bag." Carlos said, "Then we can head back."
"Don't worry, I'm not running anywhere." She mumbled, still grumpy about the wheelchair.
Once he'd left, Dylan looked around the Red Bull space. It was fairly empty except for a couple of remaining staff who sympathetically smiled at her before going on their way. She tried not to grimace at the thought of piles of sympathy coming her way. Her team cared about her and she knew it came from a good place, but she was embarrassed about what had happened.
There was a thudding sound approaching like someone was sprinting down a corridor. She turned her head as much as she could without sparking pain in her spine and was surprised to see Max running into the common area, almost out of breath as his eyes darted all over the room before settling on Dylan.
Dylan's heart jumped.
His hair was wild, his cheeks were flushed, and he looked good.
He didn't say anything for a second. His eyes scanned her, pausing at the wheelchair and the cuts and scratches along her arms. He was breathing so heavily. She didn't know why, but there was a new look of fear on his face. She'd never seen him look so out of control.
"They said...I- you weren't in the med room."
Dylan shook her head, "I just left."
"I thought you'd been taken to hospital, I didn't- nobody said...I couldn't get out of media and I just-"
His words weren't coming out properly and he looked utterly panicked as he scanned her up and down, almost like he didn't believe she was right in front of him. Her mind flashed back to Brad telling her how she'd asked for him in her panic.
"I'm okay, Max." She tried to reassure him.
"But I saw you. You were...you weren't moving."
Her heart clenched as his voice cracked and she felt the need to repeat herself, "I'm okay, Max. I promise."
Whether it was the reassurance or the way she said his name, he wasn't sure, but he found himself rushing forward to kneel down at her side and grabbing her hand. She squeezed it back and he felt part of himself come back at the realisation that she really was okay in front of him. She wasn't lying on the floor even though every time he closed his eyes, she was there back in the same position.
"You're okay." He repeated, as if saying the words would make him truly believe it.
She nodded, marvelling at the feeling of his hand around hers. He was looking at her like she might disappear if he looked away for too long. It was intense in a different way, and she felt like she was under a burning spotlight where all he saw was her. Her heart fluttered as he looked at her with such sincerity and concern in his eyes.
It was almost like he...cared about her?
She opened her mouth but another voice behind her spoke first, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Max dropped her hand and stepped away before anyone could see.
As she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Carlos with a face like thunder. He was carrying her bag and holding her camera in his other hand. She quietly sent a thank you prayer that her camera had not been an unfortunate victim of the accident.
He was glowering at Max and looking like he wanted to add another punch to his roster today.
"Hey." She called for Max's attention and smiled as his gaze softened slightly upon looking back down at her, "I'll see you tomorrow on the plane, you should go celebrate your win."
Max nodded begrudgingly, shooting one last wary glance at Carlos before turning and walking out the door.