33
CARLOS
Four Months Later
I’d skipped breakfast and lunch due to my tossing and turning stomach, and shook my head at what I was about to say over dinner, “No more distractions. This is what you were born to do. I can no more clip your wings than squash a butterfly under foot—you’ve got to race.“
Gabriela plopped a mountain sized serving of pasta on my plate and said, “I don’t mean to be overly skeptical, but this announcement of yours reeks of an ulterior motive.”
“How do you figure?” I asked, tilting my head to the side and leaned towards her.
“I figure it’s make up s*x. My body is barely healed to the point where physical exertion is even allowed, and you’re already talking about me racing again. I think you’re twitterpated beyond all recognition.”
“I’m not talking about being
