Risk: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Harlow Layne

“Good, now tell me what you’re feeling. What’s going through your mind?”

  “I feel like an idiot, and I don’t think this is going to get me back to racing. Now or ever again.” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel until they were white.

  “Callum,” I said in my best calming voice, “This may seem like an inconsequential step, but believe me, you’re doing better than you think. Do you know how long it takes some people to seek help? Some never do, so for you to contact my office right after—”

  “Don’t make me out to be something I’m not. I didn’t call you. It was the team. They said you were the best in the city, and if I wanted any chance in racing in the next race, I had to at least attempt therapy.”

  “Well, you came, and that’s all that matters,” I countered.

  “No, what matters is me getting back out on the track.”

  “And we’ll get you there. I’m not sure if it will be by your next race, but don’t give up hope.”

  “Hope. It’s such a funny thing. One second you’re flying high, and the next, it’s snatched from you, and you’ll do almost anything to get it back.”

  “How do you feel about starting the car and driving a couple of blocks?”

  “Like I don’t want to freak out while I’m driving.”

  “Okay, that’s normal, but do you want to try? I promise that at any second if you start to feel like you might panic, you can pull over, and I’ll take over from there.”

  “God, I feel like a pussy.” He placed the keys in the ignition but didn’t start the car. “I shouldn’t need you to save me.”

  I turned to face him fully. “It’s okay to need help every once in a while. There’s nothing weak about that.”

  “Maybe not for you, but for me…” He stared straight ahead without finishing his sentence.

  “It’s a big deal for you. I understand, and it is for a lot of people. Do you think I like asking my colleagues if they could take my clients this week while I work with you?”

  His eyes cut to me before he turned the key and started the car. “I’m guessing not.”

  “No, because they’re my patients, and I worry about their wellbeing. I have a few who don’t open up to anyone else but me.”

  “Will you worry about me once I leave Spain?” he asked, pulling away from the curb.

  I had a feeling it helped if we talked to keep his mind off what was really happening.

  “I will until I see you’ve successfully raced,” I admitted.

  A car swerved in front of us and then took a sharp right turn. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but I did notice more sweat on his forehead immediately after.

  “Are you okay?”

  “To tell you the truth, no. I know that I have better reflexes than most, and we wouldn’t have hit that car, but for a split second, I was brought back to the wreck and smoke.”

  “But you’re not there, Callum. Take a deep breath and look at what’s around you. Look at the blue sky and the buildings we’re passing. You’re safe. You’re here in the car with me.”

  When I saw what I was saying was working, I kept talking. He drove around for thirty minutes before he pulled over on the side of the road by a hotel and turned off the engine.

  Turning in his seat, he looked to me with a stunned look on his handsome face. “How did that work?”

  “Because you let it work.”

  “When you started talking, I tuned into you. I took in my surroundings, and almost all of my symptoms faded away. They were still there, but manageable with your brand of distraction.”

  “So, you knew I was rambling and asking silly questions to keep your head in the here and now?” I giggled like a schoolgirl and wanted to roll my eyes at myself. Most of the time, Callum hadn’t answered my questions as he kept his focus on the road; a few times he’d glanced over at me, probably thinking I was crazy, and only a couple of times did he answer me. The point wasn’t to learn his deepest, darkest secrets—or anything really, for that matter—but to keep his mind off the fact that he was driving, might have a panic attack, and crash I noticed what worked best and kept my line of questioning to that.

  And it had worked.

  “Does this mean I’m cured? I can race, and I’ll be fine?” His face lit up, and I hated to burst his bubble, but I had no other choice.

  “I don’t think you’re quite ready yet. Tomorrow we’ll try the highway, and if that works, then we’ll go from there.”

  I didn’t want to mention at one point he’d be driving—or attempting to drive—a Formula One car here first. His team had arranged it, and I was glad they had, since, so far, he’d blown my expectations out of the water.

  His face fell just as I knew it would. “You’ve done a remarkable job, though. I didn’t think you’d be able to drive as long as you did today. Tomorrow we’ll start off with a little meditation and another exercise before you drive, and I think it will help a great deal. I want to build on the exercises you can do, so when you start to feel out of control, you can use them and calm yourself down.”

  “Whatever you say, Doc. This is my hotel.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the Gran Hotel La Florida. It had to be one of the nicest hotels in all of Barcelona. “Do you want to take the car back to your place and then meet me here tomorrow?”

  I was surprised by his gesture. It’s not that he didn’t seem like a gentleman, but they were rare in this day and age. Plus, if I drove it back to my apartment, I could breathe in his scent the whole way home without looking like a crazy person. I looked around at the spacious grounds that surrounded the hotel and thought of no better place to meditate in the morning.

  Slipping the headphones on, I placed the microphone part in front of my mouth. “Can you hear me?” I asked Callum from the stands.

  “Loud and clear,” his deep voice with that slight twang came over the airwaves, making me smile.

  At every turn, Callum was surprising me. Two days in a row, we hit the highway, and yesterday, he drove for two hours without having to pull over. I had to coach him through a few panic attacks as they started, but he was incredibly in tune with his body and knew when they started. As long as I spoke to him, he was fine. Today was the true test to see if he could get in a car and speed around the track without having a panic attack. Since no one was here but a small crew, he didn’t have cars or spectators to worry about.

  We decided he would first take off whenever he was ready, and if that was successful, we would then have a countdown that felt truer to race day, in case something about that was a trigger.

  Through the headphones, I could hear him take a few deep breaths. Before we headed to the track, I ran him through several exercises to help clear his mind. Each day I worked with him, I was surprised at how well he took instruction. It showed his dedication and how much he loved his job.

  I wished all my patients were as motivated.

  “I’m ready,” he announced.

  Before today, I had no idea the driver didn’t start the car himself. I watched as a man behind the car twisted or pulled something—it was hard to tell from where I sat—before the engine roared to life.

  I kept quiet and listened to Callum breathe. I didn’t want to ask him how he was feeling on the off chance that it would make him question himself and cause anxiety to start to build.

  “This feels good, Doc. Thanks for setting this up.” His voice was a little higher than normal, showing his excitement.

  My own insides were also bubbling with excitement. Was it possible to treat someone in a week and have them cured of their phobia? Until Callum, I didn’t believe it to be true.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Show me what you can do,” I ordered but kept my tone light.

  He let out a deep chuckle, and in a matter of seconds, he was going at speeds no man should ever travel. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how dangerous it would be if Callum started to panic out there.

  After about ten minutes, he pulled
into the pit and was out of the car in a few seconds. I started to walk down the steps toward him as he pulled off his helmet. His entire face beamed as he looked up at me.

  “That felt fucking great!” he shouted up to me.

  “Why’d you stop?”

  He moved closer and angled his head to look up at me. “I want to do the countdown.” He kicked the toe of his shoe to the ground.

  “I’m sensing a but…” I trailed off, waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “I wish we could get another driver out there.”

  Having another car on the track with him could have been helpful or detrimental, depending on how he responded. It was something we couldn’t risk.

  “I’m sorry, Callum.”

  He fidgeted in his spot. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry. I’m lucky to get this opportunity.” That same bright smile broke out onto his face again. He went from serious to happy about as fast as his driving. “I feel fucking fantastic. Wait until you see me out there this time.”

  “You were holding back?” I asked, amused. Seeing Callum happy brought out a whole other side of him–a side that was dangerously attractive.

  “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he smirked.

  I’d always heard athletes were cocky, but up until then, I hadn’t thought Callum had it in him. Surprisingly, instead of turning me off, it did the opposite. I had an inkling it didn’t matter what Callum did or didn’t do, I’d find it hot.

  This time Callum started on what they were calling ‘the grid.’ Above the track, the lights turned red, and then someone started a countdown. Excitement coursed through me. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like with the stands full and nineteen other cars out on the track or the hum of life that would vibrate through the air. When the Grand Prix made its way to Spain again, I would make sure to be there with all the excitement.

  “Three.”

  “Two.”

  “One.”

  The lights turned green, and Callum was off.

  I jumped to my feet and stood against the railing, watching every turn. Even with what little I knew of Formula One racing, I knew they didn’t repeatedly go around in circles. They also traveled through city streets, through the countryside, and sometimes—as I was informed—at night.

  Callum had barely finished the first lap when I heard his breathing pick up. I waited to see if he could work through it without my help.

  “Doc,” he panted out.

  “I’m here, Callum. Remember what I taught you. Breathe. Focus on taking deep breaths.”

  “I’m trying. Keep talking to me,” he pleaded.

  “You’re safe, Callum. Feel the air move through your body. Let it calm your body and your mind. Focus only on my voice, what’s right in front of you, and the life force moving in your body.”

  “I need more. What’s your first name, Doc? Tell me about yourself. The sound of your voice soothes something in me,” he huffed.

  “My name is Aspen Belle, and I’m thirty-two years old.” As I kept repeating my mantra for him, I could hear his deep breathing become quieter by the minute. “Are you able to continue driving?”

  “I will because I must. If I hadn’t heard your voice, I’m not sure I could have continued on. Thank you.”

  “It’s my job, Mr. Crew.” I’m not sure why I felt the need to remind him, but I did. The company he raced for was paying me three months’ worth of wages for one week of intense therapy.

  “I know it is, but there’s something about your voice. I feel it deep inside of me when you speak.”

  A flicker of something I shouldn’t have felt started deep in my belly.

  For the next hour, we continued on with me talking over the radio. If I stopped for longer than a few minutes, Callum’s breathing would race, so I’d start reading from a book. It felt wrong to delve too deep into personal information. If I was to stay distanced from my client, we needed to keep it strictly professional. By the end of Callum’s driving, he was able to keep calm and only ask that I read to him.

  I waited up in the stands as he excitedly jumped out of his car and spoke to the crew. While today had been a success, I wasn’t sure what would happen when he was in an actual race. Could the man in his ear calm his racing heart and breath?

  Loud footsteps came from the stands, making me turn to look over my shoulder. A tall man with a lopsided grin moved toward me.

  “Dr. Belle, I’m Colton Donavan. I’m the owner of Callum’s team. He’s down below spouting how you’re a miracle worker.”

  I stood and met him with only two rows between us. “While he’s doing amazingly well, I’m no miracle worker, I can assure you, Mr. Donavan.”

  “Yes, that’s what I’ve come to speak to you about. Callum believes that only by hearing the sound of your voice, he’ll be able to drive. I believe that if you’re not there when he drives, he’ll fail.”

  I’d had the same fear as well.

  “Do you not believe whoever speaks to him over the headset will be able to help him in any way?”

  “Kaspar would if he could, but he’s not trained in any way to guide Callum from losing control. I wasn’t there when he wrecked.” He looked off into the sun as he finished speaking. “The team left him alone, and I believe it got into his head. Now I can help him.”

  “How can you help him?”

  “I want to hire you to be a part of the team for the rest of the season. Be there for him before and during the race. You won’t have to be in the elements while he races, but he needs you there.”

  “Mr. Donavan, while I understand why you’re offering, I have clients here who need me. I can’t leave them,” I tried to make him understand.

  His lopsided grin faded and turned into a thin line. “Will one of them die if you hand them off to another therapist? I believe if you’re not there with Callum, he very well could die out there on the track. If it’s money you’re worried about, I will pay you more than you could ever make in a year.”

  I didn’t like the fact he was trying to guilt-trip me or trying to buy me. I wasn’t sure how I would ever live with myself if anyone died on my account, though.

  “I can see you contemplating my proposal. Think about it. You’ll get to travel around the world with plenty of time to see the sights. Callum doesn’t want anyone to know it, but he’s the cheesiest tourist wherever we go. I’m sure he’d love some company while he journeys out.”

  I seriously doubted Callum wanted anyone with him. While he was charming, he also seemed to be a bit of a loner.

  “It’s only until the beginning of December.”

  “Until December?” I sputtered out. “But it’s only May.”

  “It’s a long season. I can’t possibly travel the tour with my wife in California and my duties to my company. It would give me…and Callum great relief to have you with him.”

  Turning back to the track, I had no idea what to do. The thought of Callum getting hurt or worse because I wasn’t there with him was unbearable. But what of my other patients? They were just as precious as he was.

  I didn’t turn back to look at him when I asked. “Can I think about it?”

  “Of course, you have a few days before we fly out to Monaco.” I could hear the triumph in his voice even though I hadn’t agreed, making me grind my molars together. “I’ll leave your ticket with Callum. Good day.”

  I spun around, only to see his back as he walked away. Unwilling to follow, I sat back in my seat and tried to sort the jumbled thoughts in my head. I had an impossible decision to make.

  Callum

  Monaco

  Aspen waited until the day before I was set to fly from Spain to Monaco to make her final decision. Most racers dreaded the track here, but I loved it. Rumors were flying about whether I’d ever race again after what happened in Bahrain, but I planned to show them I was a better racer than before.

  With all my free time, I’d been working out more than ever. I was stronger, and I believed with one
hundred percent certainty that with Aspen talking to me, I couldn’t be beaten.

  “I can’t believe we’re stuck in this tin can during a storm,” Aspen grumbled to herself from her seat.

  “If it was bad, they would have gone around, delayed our flight, or landed. We’ve done none of those things, so we must be safe.”

  “Safe,” she scoffed.

  While Aspen had tried to keep me from knowing anything personal, I had learned she hated flying. It seemed crazy that I was fine flying across the ocean during a storm, yet I couldn’t race without the woman beside me. I knew it was all in my head and hoped now that she’d agreed to follow me through the season, I’d eventually be able to race without her.

  Even if I desperately wanted to fuck her.

  Perhaps Colton had seen me checking out her ass as she walked away, or maybe it was the desperation in which I needed her that had him demanding that we agree to keep our relationship strictly a doctor-patient one. We could be friends, but nothing more.

  Aspen shifted in her seat, making her shirt dip to show more of her cleavage. The unintentional move had my dick twitching in my pants. One peek of her creamy breasts, and I was like a teenage boy hungering for more.

  “Doesn’t the flying from country to country get old?” she asked, breaking me away from staring at her chest.

  When I looked up, she gave me a knowing look, but I saw the slight upturn to her lips. She didn’t mind too much. I knew she was just as attracted to me.

  “It’s not so bad. Maybe for the crew who fly from one location to the next, packing and setting up in city after city, but I like to stay and explore. If I was hopping on a plane the day after a race, I doubt I’d enjoy it too much.”

  The plane jostled from turbulence, causing Aspen to grasp onto the armrests on her seat and look over at me with big brown eyes that were pleading with me to somehow get her off this plane. Her face went white with the next bump as she squeezed her eyes closed.

  “I knew this was a bad idea. I should have stayed home with my patients. Now we’re going to die.” The terror in her voice twisted at my heart.