Racing was discipline at speed. But still, Saylor stayed with me through every lap.
My anchor. She was in the weight of my wedding ring under my glove. The piece of me that no longer raced just to feel alive, because I had something waiting at the finish line that made it feel like too small a word.
By the final lap, I knew I had it. The man behind me was good, fast enough to deserve the position, but not enough to take mine. I opened the throttle through the last straight and crossed first under the lights, the Speedway exploding around me. The crowd came up off the stands, the crew shouted, the timing board flashed my number, and engines snarled behind me as the rest of the pack finished. Victory still hit me, but not quite the way it used to.
I slowed through the cooldown, circled back toward pit lane, and saw Saylor before anyone else. She stood near the front with both hands on her stomach, smiling so wide it damn near cracked my chest open.
I parked, killed the engine, and pulled off my helmet before anyone could reach me and walked straight to my wife, still breathing hard and sweat damp along my hairline. Her eyes went soft as I reached her, and before she could say a word, I dropped to my knees in front of her.
Saylor’s hands landed in my hair, while I pressed both palms to her belly. Our baby kicked almost immediately, a strong little thump against my hand, and every bit of leftover race heat in my body shifted into something so much bigger I had no idea where to put it. I’d chased speed my whole life, built machines that broke records, tuned engines that made grown men grin like fools, and ridden hard enough to make death look up from whatever corner it waited in. None of it touched this. It didn’t even come fucking close.
“Levi,” Saylor whispered, her voice thick.
I looked up at her, my hands spread over the life we’d made, and felt my throat go tight. “Fastest thing I ever built doesn’t mean shit compared to this.”
Her eyes filled instantly. “You can’t say things like that unless you want me crying in front of everyone.”
I stood and pulled her into my arms. Then I brushed my lips over hers, slow enough to taste the salt of her tears and the sweetness of her smile. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I’ve spent my whole life chasing speed, baby,” I murmured against her mouth, my hand spread over the life we’d made together. “Turns out this is what finally made me want to slow the fuck down.”
There wasn’t a finish line in the world that could touch the one I’d already crossed with her.
EPILOGUE
SAYLOR
The bell rang, signaling the end of another lively school day. I smiled as my eleventh-grade history class began packing up their things, the usual chaos of chairs scraping and laughter filling the room.
“Remember, your projects on the civil rights movement are due next Friday,” I called out over the noise. “And please actually read the rubric this time!”
A familiar voice piped up from the third row. “Mom, you say that every time.”
I turned to see my oldest, Levi Jr., grinning at me with his father’s mischievous brown eyes and my stubborn chin. At sixteen years old and in my class this year, he was equal parts proud and embarrassed to have his mom as his teacher.
The rest of the class snickered. I gave my son a pointed look, fighting a smile. “Exactly, LJ. Yet some people still forget. Now go on, all of you. Dismissed.”
As the kids filed out, LJ lingered by my desk. “Dad’s picking us up today, right? He said he finished the custom bike early, and I was hoping we could go over to The Pit so I could see it”
“Yes, he did.” I wagged my finger at him. “And you’re not fooling me at all.”
He widened his eyes innocently. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom.”
“You may not ride the new bike yet, mister. Not until he’s had a chance to take it for several test runs. Just in case.”
He groaned dramatically but hugged me quickly before dashing out with his friends, calling over his shoulder, “See you out front.”
I watched him go with a full heart.
Seventeen years. Sometimes it still felt surreal.
Levi and I had gotten married the weekend after he proposed. LJ came eight months later. Quickly followed by four more, which meant lots of maternity leave instead of time in the classroom. I’d finally just cut back to part-time after Sara was born. But now she was in first grade, so I was back to a full course load. Much to LJ’s dismay since it was just in time to be the only option for him to take American History this year.
The classroom door opened again. Levi stepped in, looking ridiculously handsome in his cut, jeans, and boots. Even after all these years, he was still the sexiest man alive as far as I was concerned. And he was all mine.
“Hey, baby.” He crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, kissing me like we’d been apart for weeks instead of hours. “Missed you.”
