Inside lay a set of keys. “Move in with me,” he whispered. “I want to see your face when I wake up. Go to bed with you every night. Know you’re here, safe, while I’m away. You can do anything you want to this place. Change it, paint it—”
I kissed him, arms circling his neck, my chest pressed to his. Another milestone, but I wanted to share a home with him.
“Is that a yes?” He licked along the seam of my lips, pulling me flush against him.
“Yes. Once Alba leaves.”
He leaned his forehead to mine. “See? The luckiest.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Asher
The track in Aragón stretched ahead of me. At barely seven a.m., it was just me and the tarmac. I filled my lungs with the cool morning air, bracing for one of the biggest challenges of the season.
The first time here, I’d been heartbroken. The second—last year—rattled and desperate just to finish. It was a miracle I’d taken second when every mile felt like a stab to the heart.
“Morning.”
I turned at Roy’s voice. He strode over with two takeout coffees, eyes hidden behind black shades.
“Trying to poison the competition?” I nodded at the cups. “Fair warning: I’m tough. Might take double the dose of whatever you put in there.”
Roy slid off his shades. “You can drink it. I figured you needed something. It’s never easy to face the past.”
He knew about Dad. Everyone did. His wins were only overshadowed by his absurd death on this track.
“I met your father,” Roy said. “Still have his autograph framed at home. We raced together his last season, though I ended up at the bottom of the table. When I saw you wildcard in Jerez, it was like watching him again.”
I sipped. The coffee was just how I liked it—scorching and bitter. “A journalist once told me the same. That I copied his technique.”
Roy took a hearty gulp of his. “You’re his son. Like him—but better.”
“Fuck.” I twirled the cup. “Definitely poisoned. Next you’ll say it’s a shame I won’t beat you, and I’ll drop dead right here.”
He smirked. “I’d hope not. You make racing more fun.”
“Isn’t being undefeated for the last four seasons enough fun?”
“Nobody’s undefeated,” Roy said. “I won last season, but this one might be yours. Careful at turn eight. Visibility’s shit there, and that’s what slowed you down last time.”
Images of Dad’s accident flashed, but Roy was right about that section. Strange Dad hadn’t highsided there with how brutal it was.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll try to focus better this time.”
I fucking hoped a year of therapy was enough for that.
Roy nodded. “Good. Wanna know what advice your father gave me?”
My heart twitched. Even years later, I would’ve given anything to hear Dad’s guidance. “Sure.”
“He told me to embrace who I was and stop dwelling on what I wasn’t. Might apply to you, too. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna call my wife.”
He waved his phone and headed toward the hotel.
I finished my coffee, thoughts spinning.
I’d always wanted to be like Dad. Race like him. Look like him. Only a man like him would give his rival advice. He believed there was space for everyone.
