Sasha satin the passenger seat, the sun setting as Darius drove them home to Scarlet Springs. She’d spent the past few weeks flying from one event, interview, public talk, and magazine cover shoot to the next. It’s not what she would have chosen to do, but she needed to fulfill her contractual obligations to her sponsors, who wanted her to stand in front of as many cameras as possible wearing their logos.
In its own way, it was as exhausting as competition, flight after flight, hotel after hotel. The hardest part about it was being away from Darius for so long. As town marshal with a small staff and limited vacation time, he hadn’t been able to join her, the two of them checking in each night by phone or video chat.
Still, Sasha had done her best to enjoy it. So many people had first heard her name after the attack last year, and they just wanted to congratulate her. Her manager’s publicist had come up with the hashtag#Undefeatedfor Sasha’s victory tour, and it had stuck. She’d lost count of the number of people who’d shouted “Undefeated!” as they passed her on streets or in airports, smiles on their faces.
She’d been inundated by book offers, modeling contracts, and even an offer to make a TV movie about her life. She’d turned them down. All she wanted was to go home with Darius and smell the mountain air again.
Darius listened to her talk about the agent who’d come to her hotel in LA and tried to sign her, shaking his head. “I don’t know if Maritza realizes this, but she did more to boost your career than anyone.”
Sasha had had the same thought. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
They hadn’t told anyone Sasha was coming home today. She needed to rest before she found herself on the receiving end of a Scarlet Springs celebration. The only people who knew were Megs and Mitch, who had invited them to a quiet dinner tonight.
“Did you read through it?” Sasha had sent Darius a statement she planned to send to the media tonight.
“I did.” He took her hand, squeezed it. “I thought it was great—short and sweet, humble and honest. In other words, very you. Just be certain you’re not doing this for my sake. Yes, I miss you when you’re gone, but I knew what I signed on for before I moved to Scarlet.”
“I’m sure.”
They stopped at their house so Sasha could take a shower, change, and drop off her luggage. Darius had moved in a few of months ago, and there were still boxes sitting unpacked here and there. With the holidays fast approaching, the boxes would probably be there through New Year’s.
When Sasha felt clean again, they took a bottle of wine from the fridge and drove the short distance to Megs and Mitch’s house, where Megs met them at the door.
“There she is—undefeated and with wet hair.”
“Hey, Megs! Mitch!”
The four of them sat in the dining room, enjoying Mitch’s chili, salad, wine, and friendship. Darius and Megs talked about town business, and then the conversation switched to the world championships and Sasha’s victory tour.
“You should have heard the roar in Knockers when you stuck that final dyno.”
Mitch chuckled. “I thought the walls were going to come down.”
They’d watched all of her TV appearances.
“I recorded them,” Mitch admitted.
Sasha knew it was time. She took out her phone, opened a document she’d saved to her files. “I’d like you two to read this before I post it.”
They both glanced at the document and then stood and went in search of their reading glasses. When they sat at the table once again, glasses perched on their noses, they bent their heads together and read.
Sasha saw Megs’ grip tighten on Mitch’s arm—the only sign of surprise from either of them. But when their heads came up, there were actual tears in Megs’ eyes.
“Oh, honey.” Megs swallowed, took Sasha’s hand. “Are you sure?”
Sasha nodded. “I told myself a long time ago that when competition was no longer fun, I would leave it and go back to climbing for the joy of it. I want to retire while I’m at the top of my game and my body is still strong. I want to enjoy my life and stop spending so much time on airplanes.”
Megs squeezed her hand. “If there’s anyone on this earth who understands, it’s the two of us. Do your sponsors know?”
“Yes. My contracts run out at the end of the year.”
“Good. You don’t want to blindside them.”
“No.”
“You’ve got money saved?”
“More than six million.”
