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Mom hesitated, and that hesitation terrified me more than anything else. “You broke your femur and your knee is…” she whispered finally. “There was a crush injury to your leg. They had to do surgery immediately.” I stared at her. “And your hand…” Her voice cracked. “Second and third degree burns on your palm and wrist.” Tears stung my eyes.

Drivers needed their hands.

Drivers needed their legs.

“No,” I whispered.

Mom grabbed my uninjured hand tightly. “The doctors said recovery will take time, but you’ll learn to walk again and⁠—”

“But what about racing?”

The words shattered out of me.

Silence filled the room. Machines beeped softly around us as fear settled into my chest.

“Can you get Theo?” I croaked, tears welling.

“Theo Bauer?” My mother asked, confused, before looking to the door to see my father walk in.

“Hey, pumpkin. I tried to call, but there was no answer,” he explained, ignoring the questioning looks from my mother.

“He’ll come,” I whispered out. “He’ll come.”

I was so certain he would, so certain that despite everything, despite every obstacle in his way, he would get to me. Days went by, then weeks, then months, then years. Theo Bauer never showed.

His hands reached for me instinctively before stopping just short of touching me. Giving me the choice, always giving me the choice.

“Can I touch you?” he asked softly. That nearly shattered me completely because his voice was so gentle, so careful. I nodded once, barely able to breathe, bringing me back to reality. Because Theo had come.

Theo had come.

Theo pulled me into him immediately. And the second his arms wrapped around me, I broke. A sob tore violently out of my chest as I buried my face against his neck, my entire body shaking hard enough to hurt. Theo held me tighter, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other rubbed slow circles between my shoulder blades.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered desperately into my hair. “I’ve got you, Red.”

“I’m sorry,” I cried against him automatically. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry⁠—”

“Hey.” Theo pulled back just enough to cup my face firmly between his hands. Tears were gathering in his own eyes now. “None of this is your fault.” His thumbs brushed beneath my eyes, trying to catch tears faster than they could fall. “You hear me?” he asked shakily. “None of it.” My breathing kept stuttering painfully.

“It’s too much today,” I admitted brokenly. “I can’t get my head to stop.”

Theo’s expression shattered completely. Without another word, he pressed his forehead against mine and just stayed there breathing with me.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

“I can’t take the pain away, but I can sit with you in it,” he whispered to me, just like I had said to him when we were 17 sitting beneath stars trying to survive ourselves together.

Theo stayed on the bathroom floor with me until my breathing stopped coming in sharp, painful bursts. He never rushed me, never told me to calm down, never told me it would pass.

He never treated me like I was fragile glass about to shatter beneath his hands. He just stayed, solid and warm and steady around me while I slowly found my way back to myself, piece by piece. He gently took my wrist in his hand and faced it palm up, I watched as he took two fingers and tapped on my wrist in a gentle rhythm. I focused on it until my heart rate began to even out and the tears stopped streaming down my face. The world felt less heavy on me.

“How do you know how to do that?” I asked, tears welling up in my eyes at the simplicity of it.