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“I was already half in love with Holt when you told me that, but yeah, you did.” He pressed a kiss to my head. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered into my ear.
Epilogue
Watson
Two years later
“I’m going to pass out or throw up. Maybe both.” I warned Holt as we watched Mason cross the finish line in first place, the checkered flag waving. Carson was right behind him in second, and honestly, if you had told me this was how this would go on our first race, I would have called you a big fat liar.
Holt wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. “No, you’re not, because if you do, you’re going to miss the massive burnouts our driver, and one of your best friends, is about to do because he just won the Daytona 500. We finished one, two, baby. Can you believe it?”
He was right about that. But my husband was right about everything. That’s right, I said husband. Holt and I got hitched on New Year’s Eve in our parent’s backyard with a handful of our friends. Our mom and dad, by the way, managed to patch up their relationship with a lot of help from their therapist and seem to be happier than ever.
Mason was my best man and Matthias was Holt’s, while Mulligan Downtown was our wedding band. The entire thing sounds crazy to me even now when I think about it, but it was the happiest day of my life. Nothing compared to it. My face hurt from smiling so much, and I don’t think I sat down once. I was too busy kissing, dancing, and touching Holt the entire night. Sometimes I had to remind myself that all of this was real because sometimes it didn’t feel like it.
Brooklyn, Shepard’s wife, had taken the pictures, and they’d come out damn good. So good, in fact, that I made one my background on my phone, replacing the hammock photo I was so obsessed with. Maybe it was the look on Holt’s face as we danced together, or maybe it was the fact that I would take a bullet for him if it came down to it.
Sometimes I got really upset with myself for not realizing my feelings for him earlier. Maybe we would have gotten together sooner. Then I only have to remember that what we have now? Not everyone is lucky enough to find their soulmate. I was a lucky bastard, and I made sure Holt knew that every single day.
We both watched as Mason did a massive burnout along the front stretch of the track, the same one that had nearly ended my life and took my memories of Holt that day, before he came to a stop. Then he climbed from the car to remove his helmet and walked over to the flagman, who was waiting for him.
Mason grabbed the checkered flag, walked up the steep embankment so that he could hand it to a little boy wearing one of his shirts. No, not his, one of my shirts, and then I lost it. Sobs burst from my chest, and I buried my face in Holt’s neck, hoping the cameras weren’t on us right now. I knew he did that for me. We had become extremely close since he joined our team.
“You did this,” Holt whispered into my ear. “You helped Mason Pelletier win his first Daytona 500, baby,” he reminded me. “I know you wish it was you out there right now.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not it.” I pulled back. “That little boy was wearing my shirt. Mason gave him the checkered flag. I just got emotional.” Something I was more now than ever thanks to the TBI.
“Fuck yes!” Mason came sprinting toward me and engulfed both of us in a hug before he took a step back. “Dude, are you... Are you crying?”
I shook my head as I wiped my face with the palms of my hands. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine... Hey!” Mason planted himself in front of the camera when the interviewer came toward him. “I just won the Daytona 500 because of Brooks Racing!” he exclaimed.
I snorted and reached for Holt’s hand, which instantly calmed me, like his touch always did. I appreciated Mason and what he was trying to do for me, but a lot had changed because of my accident. Things for the worse and for the better.
I released Holt’s hand so I could wrap my arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of his head just as Carson came toward us with a big smile on his face. I had warmed up to him, too, after I met his boyfriend and finally realized he wasn’t after Holt anymore. Although that relationship started off rocky, but that was Carson’s story to tell, not mine.
