Crash

Regrets

By the end of the race, Penelope's nerves were shot.

Sitting in the paddock, surrounded by mechanics and team bosses as they cheered and gasped at each corner, Penelope had never felt so out of place. As Charles battled with Verstappen for first, it dawned on her just how much things between them had changed recently. Last race, she'd relished in the thrill of the danger, but now she just wanted him to come back to her in one piece. It was scary, to be so attached to a person and have to watch them put their life on the line every time they let go of your hand.

There was one corner in particular, somewhere towards the end of the race, where she shut her eyes completely. She'd heard what had happened yesterday during qualifying, the big crash that had scared even the other drivers, and truthfully she wasn't sure what she'd do if it was Charles in that car, buried in the wall. She wasn't a religious person, but there wasn't a minute during that hour and a half where Penelope didn't pray. She remembered the ritual her grandmother did to this day before Penelope went out on the ice for a competition or showcase. A prayer, a kiss on her forehead, a blessing. For years, Penelope had given her a coy smile, telling her that everything would work out just fine. After all, she'd never been afraid of the ice. It had never felt dangerous to her, despite the training and the warnings and the injuries of the past. Skating had always just been her job, something she loved, as natural to her as walking down the street. How she wished she could go back to how things were before.

That's the thing though, isn't it. Things don't feel scary until you have something to lose.

"Ay, no!" Mattia complained, spitting out a curse she couldn't understand. "Redbull over took us."

"There's still time!" one of the advisors insisted, but Mattia didn't look convinced. Penelope tried to pay attention to all the technical words he spewed next, but she was so nervous that even simple Spanish wouldn't have made sense to her. Her eyes were trained on the track, watching as the cars flew past one by one. 

When they finally crossed the finish line and saw the chequered flag, the paddock was full of mixed emotions. Charles had come in second, which meant podium and a good set of points to help him in the Championship, and Carlos had come in third. It was good news, of course it was, but she couldn't help but get the sense that they were disappointed. They had the ability to be winning races, but this week it just wasn't meant to be.

As for Penelope, she finally felt like she could breathe again. Her intern from earlier helped her to the front of the red crowd, waving as Charles pulled himself out of the car. He hugged his mechanics as they patted him on the back, congratulating him on a good effort and, of course, an all important podium. Carlos gave him a big bear hug, the two of them able to share the moment as friends as well as teammates.

Penelope clapped and smiled as Charles looked up, his eyes scanning the crowd. Finally, they settled on her and his expression brightened, his hug tight as he made his way to the barrier to embrace her. They kissed as soon as removed his helmet, his cheeks flushed and his skin warm.

"Sorry I didn't win," he said, squinting in the sunlight. "I was so close!"

"Don't be stupid," she scolded, pushing back a few strands of his hair as he smiled at her like she was the only person on the entire track. "You're always a winner to me."

Charles kissed her again as people called his name, organisers trying to get the drivers to their next conference. A woman armed with a clipboard and an earpiece was waving him over, pointing in the direction of the pits. Penelope gave his chest a soft nudge, indicating for him to go.

"I'll find you," he promised, letting his fingers slip from hers.

Penelope nodded as she waved him off, watching him fondly as he jogged to catch up with the others. All this still felt so new to her, like she was a toddler just getting to grips with how to walk. Ultimately, all she wanted was for Charles to be happy. She knew how badly he wanted this win, and how he'd beat himself up about not getting it. They were similar in that regard, too critical of themselves even at the height of their success. She didn't want that to cast a shadow over this moment for him. This year was going to be big for Ferrari, and he deserved to enjoy the highs without getting caught up in the lows.