From the corner of his eye, he caught Carmen at the bar talking with Lena, hands moving as she described something, probably the blowback from the Dragons’ hearing. He had a feeling that story was far from over. Somewhere out there, a man named Vic was watching his market contract and taking notes.
But here, in this moment, his world had narrowed to the woman in his arms and the way she relaxed a little more with each turn.
When the song ended, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Walk back with me.”
She nodded.
Outside, the night air was cooler, carrying the salt tang of the sea and the last faint sounds of the day’s festivities. The boardwalk had thinned; most families had taken kids home to bed. A few couples lingered on benches. A street musician picked out a tune on a guitar near the fountain.
Hank and Bree walked side by side, hands clasped. Their steps fell into sync without trying.
“So,” he said. “A warehouse?"
She chuckled. "Yeah."
He said. “We still have to look at the warehouse in daylight. Talk to the mayor. Find a decent electrician. Convince my family I haven’t lost my mind.”
“Meet my parents,” she added quietly. “Tell them I’m not running from my grief anymore, I’m carrying it somewhere new.”
He squeezed her hand. “When you’re ready, I’ll be there.”
She stopped walking and looked up at him, eyes reflecting boardwalk lights.
“You know you just promised to meet my entire complicated life, right?” she said. “Not just the painter who likes your bike.”
“I’ve seen enough pieces to know I want the whole picture,” he said. “Bryn and all.”
Her throat worked. “You say her name like it doesn’t scare you.”
“It doesn’t,” he said. “Seems like disrespect not to.”
She stepped closer, free hand coming up to rest on his chest. “You’re not an easy man, Hank James,” she said. “You’re stubborn and bossy, and you make terrible puns when you’re tired.”
“I feel like there should be a compliment coming,” he said.
“There is,” she said. “You make me feel like the future’s not a cliff I’m going to fall off. It feels like a road I can walk, even if I’m not sure where all the turns are yet.”
He cupped her face, thumb tracing her cheek. “Good,” he said softly. “Because I’m planning on being on that road with you. Warehouse. Studio. Whatever comes after.”
She smiled, slow and genuine. “Then I guess we should start packing.”
“For the warehouse or for your old place,” he asked.
“Both,” she said. “Eventually. Not tomorrow. But soon.”
He kissed her under the glow of the Copper Moon Cup banner that still fluttered over the boardwalk, the taste of salt and possibility on her lips.
When they finally headed back to the hotel, fingers intertwined, Copper Moon felt less like a stop on his racing calendar and more like the place his life could actually unfold.
The race win had been one line of the story.
This, walking into the future with Bree at his side and trouble brewing quietly at the edges of town, felt like the beginning of everything else.
Chapter 15
Bree woke to the sound of waves and the feel of steady heat at her back.
For a few seconds, she lay still with her eyes closed, breathing in the mix of hotel soap and motor oil that clung to Hank. The curtains were cracked just enough to let in a sliver of pale light. The Copper Moon Cup banner out on the boardwalk snapped faintly in the breeze; she could hear it if she listened.
