F1 Champion's Perfect Crash: When Love Takes The Final Turn novel Chapter 2

I turned in early that night, curled up on my side of our California king bed - the same bed where Rain used to hold me like I was precious. The bedroom still held echoes of those memories, though the warmth had long since faded.

Adrian didn't stumble in until past midnight, bringing with him the sharp scent of expensive whiskey and victory.

Another successful practice run, no doubt. The mattress shifted under his weight, and his muscular arms snaked around me with practiced possessiveness.

"In bed before midnight? That's new," he murmured, his voice carrying that familiar post-race huskiness.

He nuzzled my neck, his breath hot against my skin, reeking of aged scotch and hollow triumph.

I used to live for these late-night moments, staying awake just to catch a glimpse of him walking through the door.

My heart would race at his footsteps on the stairs.

Now, I instinctively recoiled from his touch, my body betraying what my mind tried to deny.

The expensive Chanel Gabrielle lingered on his collar - Sophia's signature scent.

The same perfume I'd seen on his credit card statements, a Christmas gift for his "teammate."

Of course they'd been together.

They always were these days.

His jaw clenched at my withdrawal, fingers digging into my hip as he tightened his grip.

"Some things don't wash away that easily," I said, voice hollow as winter wind. Three years of being his caretaker had left their mark - no amount of luxury skincare could erase that.

The contrast was crushing.

When he was Rain - the lost man with no memory - he'd kiss these same callused hands, whispering they were beautiful because they told our story of healing together. He'd trace each line like reading a love letter, thanking them for saving him.

Now?

He looked at them like they were an embarrassing reminder of a past he wanted to forget.

Just like me - a scar he couldn't quite erase, but could at least hide from the cameras.