Page 80 of Handle Me

“Got everything?” Brex asked from his lookout spot at the door.

“Yep.” I threw the bag over my shoulder. “You aren’t going to try to talk me into sticking around.”

“That’s not how this works. I go where you go, and you’re leaving, so...”

I refrained from rolling my eyes. I liked Brex, but right now, I wanted to be alone. Alone in the darkest, most destructive way possible, and something told me that he would probably put a cramp in my plans. “Not going to try to talk me out of it?”

“Why?” He shrugged his broad shoulders, not a hint of his usual grin on his face. “If she couldn’t, what chance do I have?”

He made a good point, but I didn’t admit it.

“How bad is traffic this time of day?” I asked him.

“We’ll get an escort out of the city,” he said as we made our way to the private parking lot where my car waited.

“Is that necessary? I don’t want to draw any attention.”

“Well, unless you want to dig a tunnel out of London, we’re going to need a little help to get you past the paparazzi.”

There were still a few intrepid souls parked at the Kensington Palace gates, hoping for shots of me or Lola. But most of the media’s attention was on the new royal baby. “There’s only a couple of them,” I reminded him. “I can lose them.”

“I’ve seen you drive and I’m sure you can,” he said dryly. “But you might lose me. I’ll be following behind you in the Range Rover.”

At least I’d finally get a minute alone.

I threw my bag in the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel. I tried not to think that she should be sitting in that seat. But Lola had been clear. She thought I was some sort of coward, that I was running away from my title instead of embracing it.

I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to spend my summer playing Alexander’s games and having tea parties. My shit wasn’t exactly together, but no one here could help me. My brother had written the book on being fucked up. What was I supposed to do? Stick around and learn how to be miserable from the best? And wreck my life even more in the process?

I’d been in this city for a little over a week, and it was getting under my skin.

London was full of pretty buildings, but underneath it was crumbling. Just like my unwanted family. Every soul here was hoping they could hold on just a little bit longer.

But I refused.

I fired the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. When I reached the gate, several black sedans were waiting.

My phone rang over the car’s speaker, and I punched accept.

“Just follow them. They’re taking us on the most secure route.”

“Great.” I ended the call. Secure route? That sounded fun. For the first time in days, I thought about the track, about the rush I felt when I was out there alone, pushing my car to the limit. That’s where everything had gone wrong. I should never have taken a break from racing. I could see that now. Behind the wheel was the closest thing I had to a place in the world.

And now even that was being taken from me. I couldn’t even drive down the street without being surrounded by security. I’d lost my identity, my career, even Lola. But I didn’t have to.

The streets were congested, but traffic was moving. I kept my eyes on the road, waiting for my moment. I hadn’t walked away from her for this. When we reached Paddington, I saw my chance. The light was about to change, and my entourage slowed, but I swerved around the cars in front and ran through the light. I didn’t bother to look into my mirror to see if they were following. I knew they were.

Without stopping, I turned left onto a side street, narrowly avoiding a group of pedestrians crossing. It was an asshole move. One of them screamed at me, but it had done the trick. The others couldn’t risk following me until the crossing cleared. My phone began to ring again, but I reached over and turned down the volume. The street opened like a sign from the gods, and I sped toward the A40 and my escape.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

LOLA

I don’t know how long I stood in my sister’s sitting room. Long enough to start crying, stop crying, and start crying again. At the first opportunity, Anders had bolted. I leaned against the papered wall, feeling its rough texture against my flattened palms. I might have thought this was all a dream if it weren’t for that stupid wallpaper. I was wrung out. Hollow. Empty.

And I’d only spent a week with him.

I couldn’t bring myself to go back in and tell my sister the complete reversal of everything we’d just talked about. She’d had her own rocky moments with her husband, but I didn’t want to hear about having faith or how it had worked out for her after a breakup. Just the thought of my sister and brother-in-law made me feel queasy. They were so happy, even if Alexander could be a controlling jerk.