“Rumor reached me,” she managed. “Congratulations.”
He stepped inside; set the trophy on the dresser with a satisfied clunk. The paper bag landed beside it. Before she could say anything else, he was in front of her, big hands settling at her waist.
“Bree,” he said.
“Hank,” she answered.
He kissed her.
Everything that had been wound tight inside her poured into that contact. She went up on her toes as his mouth claimed hers, arms flying around his neck. He tasted like mint and a faint hint of champagne; his lips firm and sure; his body radiating heat through the thin cotton of his shirt.
He lifted her without effort, hands sliding under her thighs; her legs wrapped around his hips on reflex. She gasped against his mouth; laughed when her shoulders hit the wall; the sound swallowed by another kiss that went deeper, slower.
“God, you feel good,” he murmured against her lip. “Kept thinking about this every time I hit that straight. Probably not ideal race prep.”
“Whatever you did worked,” she said, slightly breathless. “Maybe we should add it to your routine.”
“Pre-race visualization, huh,” he said. “Might have to keep that one between us.”
He eased her back to her feet, though his hands did not leave her for long. He cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones; eyes searching hers.
“You okay, honey?” he asked. “You look like you have about six extra thoughts bouncing around in there.”
She swallowed.
Here it was.
“I’m okay,” she said. “And I owe you the truth.”
His fingers stilled.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Hit me.”
She didn't back away; she didn't look at the floor. She met his gaze and lifted her chin a fraction.
“I watched the race from the north grandstand,” she said. “Not on TV.”
His jaw flexed. “Start at the beginning.”
“I stayed in the room for tech and the whole Red Dragons mess,” she said. “I swear I did. I watched the inspection, the fight, and Stoke getting hauled out. I texted you from this bed. But when they put the bikes on the grid for the race, I… I panicked.”
“Because of Bryn,” he said quietly.
“Because of Bryn,” she agreed. “I kept thinking about that hospital room. Sitting there while someone you love is dying. The interminable waiting, holding my breath, trying to be strong, all the while sitting bedside and not moving because the fear of stepping from the room and the unthinkable happening while I was gone was stronger than anything. I couldn’t do that again, not exactly like that.”
She took a breath.
“So I put on the hat and sunglasses. I went down the service stairs and out the side door I found yesterday. I bought a general ticket, sat in the public stands, stayed away from the pits, and away from the Dragons. The cops and security were all over them, Hank. They were not looking at the crowd. I watched you race, and when you crossed the line, I left before you even hit the podium. Came straight back here.”
Silence settled between them, thick and heavy.
He closed his eyes for a second; opened them again. The way he looked at her made her feel like he was looking through skin and bone, directly at the place she tried hardest to keep hidden.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said at last.
“You’re not yelling,” she said.
“Thinking about it,” he replied. “Trying not to.”
