Page 72 of Coming Second

“And we should head up to my suite.” Thomas cranes his neck, looking around at the room they’re in. “This one is too small and depressing. Red Boar should treat you better than this.”

“Your room it is.” Sam will never say no to Ferraro footing his dinner tab.

Thomas turns to the door and grabs the handle. “Well?What are you waiting for? You are a racing driver, hurry up.”

Sam laughs as he’s dragged away from his own hotel room.

Thomas is still Thomas.

It’s the only person Sam has ever wanted him to be.

In Brazil, Sam finishes second. It’s a hard race right up until the very end, so he’ll concede the win this one time.

For the first time in months, he throws himself against his team. They aren’t expecting it, so he laughs as everyone crashes into each other and tries not to drop him.

Sam pats backs, rubs hair, and smiles big for the cameras, turning so his whole team can get in the frame.

“I’m glad you’re back.” Adam gazes up at him with a proud smile. It doesn’t even falter when his eyes flick over Sam’s shoulder to where Thomas stands on his car.

“Happy to be back.”

The race organizers try to corral him into the interview area, but Sam hangs back, waiting for Thomas to finish celebrating with his team before congratulating him.

“I’ll win the next one.”

Thomas’s face lights up when he sees him. That’ll never get old. “Do not count on it.”

Sam ends the season how he starts it—on the middle step.

He stands between his two favorite people as the speakers pump his favorite song out to the crowd. He accepts the biggest trophy, raising it high for the audience, then exchanges it for a bottle of sparkling wine.

Thomas has the same idea, and both of them jump the start, ganging up and spraying Lucas down before the sound engineer has the chance to play “Carmen”.

After they’re all drenched and sticky, Sam pulls Lucas in for a tight hug. He’s avoided thinking too hard about it, but this is it—their last ever podium together.

“Don’t cry,” Lucas scolds when they pull back.

Sam dabs at his eyes with his wrist. “It’s the sparkling wine.”

“Samuel is crying.”

“Nobody asked you,Big Toe!”

Thomas sticks out his tongue, but he still holds his arm out so Sam can slide into the middle for the top step photo.

Sam squeezes in, pulling both Lucas and Thomas closer to his sides, leaving Gary to lean in by himself. When Sam smiles for the photo, a drop of sparkling wine leaks out of his eye.

Whatever, he’s allowed to be emotional.

They gather their trophies, and all three drivers hesitate before they leave the stage.

“My last ever Formation 1 trophy, huh?” Lucas turns it over in his hands, studying it. “It could be bigger.”

“Should’ve thought of that before losing.” Sam makes a point to show off how heavy his first-place trophy is.

“It is not the last,” Thomas corrects, softly. “Do not forget the Drivers Championship.”

Lucas’s face lights up. “The biggest one! How did I forget? You two should not have been the losers.”

Sam doesn’t think for one moment that the Drivers Championship slipped Lucas’s mind. “Don’t worry, I’ll get one of those myself next year.”

Thomas scoffs. “Not if I am to say anything about it.”

Racing will always come first. Their teams will always come first.

Still, coming second is not too bad.