Epilogue One - Devon
The stadium is pure chaos.
Engines scream as monster trucks crush cars like paper, and the crowd is so loud that their cheers vibrate my ribcage. I roll my shoulders from beneath the stands, waiting for my cue.
We've had one hell of a rally week. On day one, Tay announced my addition to the team, and the support we've received from our fans has been phenomenal.
I've been joining in on their stunts over the last few days, obviously nowhere near as skilled as them, but the crowd seems to love my simple jumps and front flips all the same.
At first, I was anxious, unsure if this was something I could or even wanted to do.
Tonight, though, the nerves have settled. Not into confidence exactly, but a familiarity and trust that comes from repetition. So far, so good. One step at a time.
Taylor's voice crackles in my ear from the Bluetooth in my helmet. “Dev, you’re up after that truck clears.”
I take a breath and ease my bike forward—my new bright green one that Christian built. A monster truck lands hard, suspension screaming nearly loud enough to rival the crowd. Dirt and fire erupt, ridiculously over-the-top and perfect.
I roll out into the open when the floodlights dim.
The noise hits me full force, a wall of sound that makes my pulse kick up a notch as I line up for my first jump.
It’s not huge, but it's clean. Flying through the air, I bask in the weightlessness before my tires kiss the dirt.
The landing rattles through me, but the crowd cheers louder than I expected.
Yeah. I fucking got this.
Carving around the arena, I hit another ramp, pop a front flip that’s still a little ugly on the exit, but strong enough to count. The fans don't care, anyway. They just want passion, and I give it to them every time I roll back on the throttle.
Between passes, I catch sight of Christian at the edge of the arena, watching me with his helmet under his arm. His attention steadies me as I take my final run before slowing near the barricade. My chest heaves, sweat cooling fast under my gear. A wide grin stretches on my face.
The announcer barely lets the noise die down. “And now, keep your eyes on the center ramp, because we’ve got two riders, one bike, and absolutely no regard for common sense—”
My stomach coils once again.
Taylor rolls out first, with Christian climbing on behind him. The crowd reacts instantly, a wave of confused excitement rippling through the stands. They line up, and Taylor guns it toward the ramp. When the bike launches into the air, Christian moves.
One hand releases, then the other. He throws his legs wide midair, arms stretched out like he’s flying, trusting Taylor to keep the bike steady beneath him.
They land clean, and Christian snaps back into place behind his best friend like nothing happened.
Then they loop the arena again, faster this time.
On the next jump, Christian lets go completely.
For half a second, he’s standing upright on the pegs behind Taylor, arms out, body loose and fearless. My heart slams hard against my ribcage.
They touch down, and the crowd loses their damn minds, chanting, stomping, feeding the chaos. I’m gripping my handlebars so tight that my gloves squeak.
The Bluetooth crackles again, Christian's voice sharp with excitement. “Don’t blink, pastelito.”
My stomach drops when they line up again, awe clenching my chest. I've seen them perform this stunt a bunch of times over the last few weeks in practice, but it still gives me chills.
Their engine roars. The ramp disappears beneath them, and for a heartbeat, they’re flying. Then Christian jumps, vaulting clear over Taylor in a front flip before settling in place at the handlebars. They land together so perfectly that the stadium detonates.
I push out a laugh of disbelief, kickstarting my bike to meet them both at the center ramp.
Christian gets to me first, hauling me in for a passionate hug that makes the crowd catcall.
Salem runs over the microphone, and the boys go through their closing speech, thanking the fans as they do after each performance.
A portion of the proceeds from the show will go to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, just like every year.
Noise is still rolling through the stadium when Taylor clears his throat.
“Okay,” he says into the mic, voice echoing. “So, this next part isn't a stunt, and it's not part of the show, but I would love it if you all stayed.”
The crowd starts to die down, confused murmurs weaving through the stands.
Christian inhales sharply beside me. “Oh, shit. It's happening.”
I squint at him in confusion as Taylor begins to pace like he’s psyching himself up. The stadium lights glint off the helmet tucked beneath his arm when he turns slowly, scanning the crowd until his gaze locks onto one specific spot.
“Huck,” he calls out, “come here.”
A hushed pause follows, then a ripple of movement.
Huckslee straightens abruptly, confusion written all over his face when Logan and Owen start elbowing him forward.
The spotlight swings, landing squarely on his face.
He lifts his hands in a “what the fuck” gesture as he makes his way down the steps.
By the time he reaches the edge of the arena, the noise is deafening.
Hopping the barricade awkwardly, his eyes stay locked on his boyfriend in suspicion.
Taylor waits until he’s close enough to hear him without the mic. “You good?” he asks softly.
Huck nods. “Uh, yeah. What are you doing?”
Tay turns the mic back on. “I’ve spent most of my life doing stupid, reckless shit in front of a lot of people,” he continues. “But the best thing I’ve ever done happened way off the track.”
The stadium goes quiet. Not dead silent, but close. Like everyone instinctively knows to hold their breath.
“Huck,” Tay says, voice steady. “You’ve loved me through really bad decisions, through me thinking I had to prove something to the world instead of just letting myself be happy. You made me a better person.”
Christian’s fingers curl into my sleeve, our attention on the scene before us.
Taylor drops to one knee right there in the dirt, and the stadium erupts. “So, what do you say?” he asks into the mic, hands shaking violently as he lifts a small box. “Wanna spend forever in Delaware with me?”
Huckslee doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes,” he chokes out, obviously knowing what those words mean even if the rest of us don't. “Tay… Yes!”
Taylor grins, scrambling to his feet just in time for Huck to crash into him, arms tight around his neck. The crowd completely loses its collective mind. Monster trucks rev their engines, and the pyrotechnics staff release a plume of fire in celebration. For that, they deserve a fucking raise.
Christian lets out a breathless laugh beside me. “Holy shit. He actually did it.”
Taylor pulls back just long enough to slide the ring onto Huck’s finger, then kisses him like he’s forgotten thousands of people are watching.
I glance at Christian, noting the way his eyes shine with pride. Our gazes meet, and he smiles at me steadily, slipping his hand into mine. Something calm settles into place inside of me, standing here in the dirt, surrounded by engines and noise and love loud enough to shake the ground.
This isn’t just a group of misfit friends who stick together out of obligation, or some other misguided notion. It’s a family. And for the first time in my life, I don't feel like I'm on the outside looking in at them living their lives together.
I’ve completely become a part of it.