“Because this time I freaked out, too. Part of me still worries that this thing between us is happening at the wrong time. So, instead of saying I want to go to your races and worrying about the details later, I tried to be logical. Can you forgive me?” He looks up at me from under thick lashes.
“Can I forgive you for doing the same thing I’ve been doing to you over and over again?” I fight the smile that wants to break free. “Yeah, I think that’s fair. Is that really what you want, though? Clearly, I have a habit of getting lost in my head.”
“Seems like maybe we can both improve on that. Maybe we can work on it together?” He bites her lip nervously.
My smile falters.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes grow big.
“I’d have to stay here to do that, and I don’t—I was hoping this race would help me decide, and everything was good until that reporter…” I prop my chin on the gloved hand resting atop my board, using it to keep me upright.
“We both know he’s probably not the only guy that will ask about Chase. Hopefully other people will be a little nicer about it but…” He looks at me with watery eyes. “Would Chase want you to stop riding to avoid those questions?”
“No,” I sigh. “He wouldn’t want his death to end my career.”
“Then you should keep riding.”
“That’s the thing.” I nudge my board with the toe of my boot. “At first, his death did end it, or at least make me not want to ride. But now, if I don’t go back, it won’t be because of him. It’ll be because I’m not sure my heart is in it anymore.”
“What is in your heart? Forget about the reporter and the crowd and everything else, tell me about the race.”
My body relaxes as I recount what I felt on the slope, the way it made me feel alive.
“That right there.” He smiles at me when I finish. “That’s your answer. You light up when you talk about racing. If it still gives you that feeling, you can’t give it up.”
I’d sort of been leaning in that direction, but standing in front of the man who helped me get to this point makes the decision even harder. Could I really give him up for something that—in the end—I could only do for a few more years, anyway?
“Don’t get mad, but I’d be lying if I said you aren’t a factor. I know you aren’t supposed to be but… you are. This place is. I just figured out what it means to me. What you mean... I don’t want to keep racing only to lose it again. To lose you.” I hold my breath, waiting for him to tell me all the reasons I’m wrong.
“What if there’s a way to have both?” He bites that lip again, and I damn near fall over. If it weren’t for the board propping me up, I probably would.
“How?”
“Carter’s willing to let me develop and market the programs while someone else manages the day-to-day operations. It won’t free me up for all your races, but hopefully I’ll make half of them. And we’ll get you back here between as many races as we can, so you aren’t gone an entire season. Think we can start with that?”
I can tell he’s holding his breath since there’s no white cloud in front of his face, and more than anything else that signals how he really feels. “You would do that for me?”
“I’d do it forus, if you want that.”
“I want that,” I rush to tell him. “No, Ineedit. It probably makes me selfish, but I don’t see how I can live without the two things I love most.”
His full lips part as his jaw drops, trying to form words that don’t come.
“I think this is the first time I’ve made you speechless, Frosty.” I lick my lips, feeling both proud and nervous that I’ve robbed him of his words.
“You love me?” he squeaks.
“You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. How could I not? The question is…can you love me back?” I think I know the answer—why would he put up with my shit if he didn’t—but I’ve never heard those words from anyone outside my family, and I really want to.
“Yes.” His face breaks into a brilliant smile. “I love you, too.”
He squeals when I wrap my gloved hand around his neck and pull him to me, pressing my lips softly against his. The crowd I’d forgotten about cheers around us, and for the first time in months I feel like I really am gonna be okay.
Epilogue
Life on the circuit is both easier and harder than I remember.
The fact Chase is missing never goes away. I feel his absence as I’m putting my gear on, after I’ve crossed the finish line, and sitting in my hotel room–which he’d either share with me if he was around, or where I’d call him from at the end of the day.
