Epilogue
Ican’t count how much time I used to spend ensuring my mask was completely flawless, that no one could see who I truly was.
That version of myself that I would put on and present to the world.
Which shirt looked respectable enough, or if my smile looked convincing.
All to ensure I was the perfect son, not that it ever mattered.
Plus, I was always better at covering the marks and bruises than pretending.
Now though? Now, I barely even give any of that a second thought.
I’m standing in front of the hotel mirror wearing a black lace crop top, paired with black leather shorts and an oversized racing jacket.
The name ‘Miles’ is sprayed across the back of it, and I have patches for PRI, The Academy, and even one of Wilder’s sponsors sewn onto the arms. My hair is freshly dyed blue, thanks to Wilder doing it again for me last night, and I’ve paired it with a new glitter eyeshadow and a matte lipstick.
I look good, and more importantly, I feel exactly like myself.
“You ready, Blue?” Wilder calls from the other room in our suite, as I take another appraising look of myself.
“Almost.”
I slip on my shoes, before grabbing my camera from the back of the chair and then also reaching for my phone.
The lock screen is a photo of me, Wilder and Freddie, taken in the garden of his and mom’s new house a few weeks ago.
Freddie is basically Wilder’s number one fan, and my mom treats him like another son.
They are both happier and healthier than I have ever seen them, although Freddie spends more time crashing with me and Wilder than he does at home.
All three of us are still in therapy after everything that happened, and Wilder attends his own sessions to help him deal with his loss too. Some days are still hard on both of us, but we make it work, and we know above all else, we will always have each other.
When I finally leave our bedroom, I find Wilder leaning by the door waiting for me.
He looks unfairly attractive as usual, in his black base layer, his race suit hanging low on his hips, and dark sunglasses tucked into the collar of his shirt.
When he senses my presence, his eyes drag over me, before he groans dramatically.
“What?” I ask, walking toward him, and he shrugs.
“I was hoping for something less distracting,” he muses, pulling me close by one of the belt loops on my shorts.
His fingers trail along the bare skin of my abs, leaving nothing but heat in their wake. “Rude of you to say when you’re the one I dressed up for,” I reply, pulling away from him so I can give him a slow spin.
I know the second he sees his name on the back of my jacket, because he curses. “You don’t play fair, Blue.” He spins me back and pulls me roughly against him.
“No, I’m like you, I play to win.” I lean in and give him a teasing kiss, one he instantly tries to deepen, but I pull away. “Ah ah, Miles, you’ve got media and training to get to.”
“Fucking you counts as endurance, right?” he asks, as I pull open the door and shake my head with a smile.
We’ve been back on the PRI circuit for two weeks now, and I still can’t get used to how different it feels from this time last year.
Sure, some stuff feels the same, the ever-present sound of engines, fans desperately trying to get racer signatures, and the press looking for their next big thing.
But everything else feels different. I’m not technically here as Wilder’s PR assistant, or should I say, I’m not being paid to do that, but I still follow him everywhere with a camera shoved in his face.
Still, it feels different because I’m different.
We came out as a couple officially a few months ago, not that we were hiding it, but we wanted to wait for everything else to settle down.
Plus, some things made us realize that life is too short to not be happy.
Given Wilder was already openly gay, it didn’t cause too much of a stir, but since we returned to the circuit together, we have been all anyone can talk about.
There have been photos of us arriving at the track, leaving bars and restaurants, even boarding the private jet.
We have nothing to hide, but it’s still a little weird to constantly see our picture everywhere.
Wilder has become a permanent part of my social media feeds, but I try to keep his own all about the racing.
That doesn’t mean he hasn’t managed to sneak his own couple-themed posts on there, because he has, and I try not to let my heart race too much when he captions them with things like ‘my Blue’.
We’ve been living together since the start of the year, and I still cherish every day I get to wake up by his side, like I’m living in some kind of perfect dream, just waiting to wake up.
We’re in Madrid now, but I’m already counting down the minutes until we are back in Milan in a couple of weeks, since Wilder has promised me we can go back to Sirmione.
He’s even made sure we have more days off while we’re there, something his father was happy to accommodate.
Especially since he joked about saving money on not booking two hotel rooms for us this year.
Which is irrelevant, since Wilder and I are staying in a suite, but I understood the joke.
When we get to the track, Laura spots us first, even with half her focus on her tablet.
We’ve become close friends over the last year, often going out to dinner with her, Eloise and Zara, and I’m so excited to be working with her again.
Eloise is stuck in the States for the next couple of weeks, sorting out her company, but will join Zara and us at the end of July, so I can’t wait for that.
Our friendship, though tested, is now stronger than ever.
“There you guys are,” Laura greets us, pulling me in for a hug and punching Wilder lightly in the arm. “Try not to say anything controversial today,” she warns, and I have to bite back my smirk.
“No promises, Laur,” Wilder tells her with a wink, that only makes her sigh.
“I know, that's the problem,” she mutters, focusing back on her tablet. “Media is in five minutes,” she reminds us, and Wilder instantly glances at me.
“That gives us enough time for a quickie, right Blue?” he teases, making Laura look as if steam might blow out of her ears, before she hits the back of his head.
“Behave! I’m already scarred for life after catching you two in the dressing room again.” She shivers at the memory, but Wilder’s eyes darken completely.
“Then maybe you should learn to knock,” he grunts back, biting his lip, still looking at me
“I did.” She glares at him now, and I know if I don’t get him out of here, he is only going to wind her up even further.
“Come on, before I have to stop her from killing you,” I jump in, dragging Wilder toward the media room.
I’m not surprised to find it already packed when we get there, with cameras all lined across the back wall, and microphones waiting to hear from the racers.
Flashes explode the second Wilder walks in, his hand still intertwined with mine, and he doesn’t hesitate in kissing me before pulling away to take his spot.
I take my usual seat off to the side with the communications staff, camera resting comfortably in my lap, as I watch Wilder walk past everyone else.
One reporter immediately raises a hand. "Wilder!” he shouts, making him smile as he reaches the mic.
“Damn we’re starting early,” he jokes, and laughter ripples through the room. “Go ahead, Brian,” he continues, waiting for the reporter's question.
“Your PR assistant,” the guy starts, and I freeze for a second, old habits still embedded too deep for me to not.
“My boyfriend,” Wilder corrects, making me blush, and causing a ripple of even more flashes. “Reed is my boyfriend.” He says the words so casually, yet with so much conviction, that I can’t help but smile.
“Boyfriend,” the reporter repeats with a smile, before going on to ask his question about how Wilder thinks my presence will affect his season.
“Well, I fell in love with him last season, and that worked out pretty good, didn’t it?
” he jokes, making the crowd laugh, before he turns more serious.
“I love racing, I always have, it’s been my passion since I was a child, and recently I was reminded just how lucky I am to have it.
” Tears start to gather in my eyes at his words, at the reminder of what we have been through, and how much he deserves to be here.
“I hope to have a long and successful career if I’m lucky, but there is nothing more important to me in this world than my partner.
He’s the one who will be there when all this is over, so the only thing his presence does is remind me that all this is temporary, and I have to enjoy it while I can. ”
His speech stuns all of the reporters into silence, not that I can blame them, I’m pretty speechless myself, as I consider doing something I never thought I would.
I can feel so many stares on me, but it doesn’t stop my legs from moving of their own accord, taking me right over to Wilder, all the cameras be damned.
His eyes crinkle a little in confusion as I reach him, but the second I put my lips on his, he reacts just like I knew he would.
Wilder kisses me back, right there in front of everyone, and the cameras catch every second of it.
And for the first time in my life I don't care who sees, because after years of hiding, years of fear, and everything we survived to get here, there is nothing more freeing than finally being seen exactly as you are, and exactly where you belong. Which for me, is beside the man I love.
When I pull back he offers me a smirk. “I’m a little busy here, Blue,” he teases, the mic picking up his words and making them laugh.
“We just gave them headlines for the full week, I’m sure they can forgive us,” I toss back, and he shakes his head with a laugh.
“I love you.” He kisses me again and I lean into it, before having to remind myself where we are.
“I love you too, Wild, now get back to work, I heard your PR assistant is going to be mad he didn’t get the biggest scoop today.”
Turning on my heels I walk back to my seat, with my head held high and my heart fuller than it’s ever been.
This job was just supposed to be a pit stop, but it turned into the best choice I ever made.
THE END.