Page 85 of Dream Chaser

I shook my head, nerves seizing my insides. “The first company I worked for paid for English classes. I spoke it already, but those lessons made the biggest difference in becoming fluent.”

“The fast-food place?”

My pulse ratcheted up. It was an innocent question born out of genuine curiosity. She had no way to know what a sensitive subject it was.

“Another sports agency.” The biggest in Spain. Or it used to be before I opened mine.

“And you left it to set up yours.”

“I did.”

“Was speaking English the reason you opened an agency in the States?”

“Not really, although it helped.” So did spite—and the determination to achieve more than what Ignacio Espinosa ever did.

“Sorry.” Nova straightened in her seat with a deep sigh. “I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

She must’ve mistaken my clipped answers for a reluctance to talk. Far from the truth. I just wasn’t in the mood to revisit my past, not when I might be facing it over the next few weeks. Ignacio wouldn’t miss the chance to represent his agency at the last race and the award ceremony.

One of his clients was competing. The guy didn’t stand a chance against Asher and Roy, but Ignacio had always been involved in his athletes’ careers, no matter their record.

Motivating them. Building them up. I learned how to do that from him. It would’ve been much easier to hate him if the years he’d been my mentor had held nothing but the shitty stuff he’d done.

“You never are,” I said. “You can ask me anything. I’m glad we’re talking.”

Nova pushed a strand behind her ear. “So am I. I prefer this to emails.”

Our gazes locked and held, heavy with the weight of unsaid things. It’d been almost a month without meaningful conversations. A month during which I kept every text and email professional.

Instead of helping, it made me miserable.

“Nova.” I cleared my throat. “I—”

The plane shook, like it had driven over a pothole in the sky. The seatbelt sign chimed as the pilot announced turbulence and asked us to fasten our seatbelts. Before we could, the aircraft dropped. Gasps erupted throughout the cabin. Plastic cups rattled across tray tables. A child started crying somewhere behind us. Fear flashed in Nova’s eyes. She gripped the armrest—her face blanching.

I lowered the divider between our seats, thankful for no console between us, then quickly did Nova’s belt and mine as jolts kept rattling the plane. On instinct, I brought her to my chest and encased her in my arms. I’d flown often enough not to be afraid, but Nova clutched my forearm, trembling. “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered in her ear.

Another violent shudder tore through the aircraft. An overhead bin creaked open, and a carry-on bag slammed against the floor.

“Oh my God,” a woman shrieked.

Nova’s shaky exhale blew across my neck.

“Shh.” I smoothed a hand down her hair. “We must’ve hit a strong wind current.”

“I know,” she said, her voice unsteady. “It happened last time too, just not so bad.”

“Lean your head on my shoulder and close your eyes.”

She obliged, and I hugged her tighter, burying my nose in her hair as I waited for the jolts to lessen.

“Better?” I asked when the rough shuddering became less frequent.

She nodded, her forehead bumping against my jaw.

I rubbed circles on her back until she calmed.

Eventually, the jolts ceased. Relieved exhales came from the passengers around me. Everything went back to normal, but I didn’t move.