Epilogue
GREEN FLAG: RACING CONDITIONS RESUMED.
Location: Yas Island
Five Months Later
The roar of the crowd feels different tonight.
Maybe because, for the first time all season, I’m not standing in a garage with my heart lodged somewhere in my throat, praying a strategy call doesn’t destroy weeks of work.
Maybe because, after everything—Silverstone, Leo’s brother’s death, and the title drama—I learned that as long as I’m with Leo, we’re victors whether we win or lose.
Fireworks explode over Yas Island, streaking gold and white over the dark waters surrounding the circuit. Beyond the track, the skyline glows against the December night while music and cheers rise from every direction.
It’s the final race of the season, and for the first time in a long time, I’m simply happy to be where I am, which is in Leo’s arms. On the podium in front of us, champagne sprays into the air while cameras swing toward the drivers lifting trophies.
Leo isn’t one of them.
Months ago, he would still be standing next to me, but he’d be filled with tension and pretending he wasn’t disappointed at missing the podium.
Tonight? He’s leaning against the railing beside me with one arm draped over my shoulders and a smile on his face.
A real one.
The kind I spent the rest of the season ensuring. The kind he fought for.
“You’re staring.” His voice interrupts my thoughts.
“I’m noticing important things,” I counter.
“Dangerous,” he murmurs.
“It’s literally my job.”
His arm tightens even as the crowd erupts again.
The F1 World Champion—Copse—has just been crowned. Leo puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles his approval before applauding like the rest of the crowd.
It wasn’t his time this year, but we’re already working on plans for next year and beyond.
I think back to where we were a year ago—barely speaking because of a past that wouldn’t loosen its hold on Leo. The Leo from then would’ve believed a trophy would have earned him love.
Since his brother’s death, I know for a fact he doesn’t care about the standings the way he used to. He cares about me and driving cleanly. I question whether he even knows he missed the podium by fifty-three points.
What I do know is that after the race tonight, he sought me out, then Dario, then my father. In that order. That, more than anything, shows what Leo now considers a win.
A burst of laughter sounds behind us. I glance around Leo to find my father approaching with Dario right next to him. The two of them, thick as thieves.
And I’m so grateful my father decided to “consult” for Apex Orion. “Just like my girl,” he declared when he said he needed to order more of the team’s wine-colored polos.
Somewhere between late-night flights, postrace dinners, strategy meetings, and random appearances at race weekends where he absolutely did not have to be on the circuit, my father became one of the most stabilizing influences in Leo’s life.
My eyes well with tears when I realize Leo would rather have my father in his camp than win any damn cup. Leo shakes both their hands before joking with Dario that he saw tears in his eyes during the season recap video.
Dario retorts, “Like you didn’t?”
Leo presses a kiss to the crown of my head before blatantly lying to his best friend. “Never happened.”
My father shakes his head. “Do I need to get the girls on the line to shake the truth out of you, Leo?”
Leo stills before squeaking out a fervent “No!”
I grin at my father’s mischievousness before my thoughts trail back to the week before the Vegas Grand Prix.
The weekend my father foolishly opened his home to my girls—Maya, Amy, Emery, and Aio. They stormed in, claiming they were there to watch me work and absolutely were not there to interrogate my boyfriend.
Leo came up from the track expecting a quiet night before the race. Instead, he found himself under interrogation. Aio started by staring at him across the kitchen island for nearly fifteen minutes. Then she proclaimed, “So, if you hurt her again, where exactly would you like us to bury your body?”
Leo blinked. Looked at me, then my father, who was no help, since he finds my friends to be quality entertainment. Then Aio smiled, which somehow horrified him. Leo, the man who has spent years driving cars at over two hundred miles per hour, survived a year of media storms and public scandal.
But my overprotective friends?
He was terrified. After they left, he admitted qualifying had been less stressful.
Beside me now under the illuminated sky, Leo drags a hand down his face. “Fine. I admit it. I teared up.”
Dario says smugly, “Called it.”
That’s when he tries to shift the blame by accusing me, “This is your fault.”
“How?” I demand.
“You know how. Your friends are scary.”
I laugh before the sound trickles away because of the way Leo is looking at me.
He’s not annoyed or embarrassed. He’s just looking at me like no one else exists.
For a second, the noise from the crowd and music fade.
The only sound penetrating my brain is the fireworks, and that’s because they’re a reflection of what’s happening in my heart.
My father clears his throat. Loudly. “We’re leaving.”
“What? Why?” Leo blinks.
He points between us. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that says you’re about to start kissing in the middle of a crowd.” My father pauses before remarking, “Not that it would be the first time.”
Dario claps Leo’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”
And as quickly as they found us, they disappear into the crowd. Leo stares after their retreating figures before remarking, “I spent my whole life trying to earn a family. I didn’t realize it would feel like this.”
I rest my head against his shoulder.
Around us the celebration of the season ending continues. Then Leo murmurs, “Christin?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you happy?”
The question is simple, but it isn’t small. He isn’t asking about tonight or the season. He doesn’t mean the excitement from yesterday, when McLaren sent Castor a contract big enough for Leanne to scream from three thousand miles away.
This has nothing to do with racing or wins.
He’s asking if I’m happy with us.
I turn toward him. Toward the man who handed me every fractured piece of his once-broken heart and trusted me enough to stay while he learned how to heal. My smile comes easily. “I’ve never been happier.”
His gaze searches mine. “I love you.”
Emotion swells so suddenly my chest aches. “I love you too.”
His eyes close briefly, and when they open again, something in his gaze looks lighter.
Leo spent years believing life was about earning love before he tried to outrace the ghosts of his past. But standing beside him beneath a sky full of fireworks and endings, I realize something.
For the first time this season, neither of us is chasing a finish line.
The season might be over, but this is our beginning.