Page 236 of Bend

He came to this race too, and not just because Talon and Sayshen are here.

But for me.

That still does something weird to my chest.

I nod toward the bench without really thinking about it. “Dad, toss me my other glove?”

The word leaves my mouth so naturally that it takes half a second for me to realize what I said.

His hand pauses, and then he smiles, small and warm, as he picks up the glove and tosses it to me. “Catch.”

I do, and that’s it. No speech or tears.

Thank fuck.

But when I turn away, I’m smiling like an idiot.

Talon notices immediately from across the garage. His eyebrow lifts, and I point at him before he can say a single word.

“Don’t.”

His expression softens anyway.

Asshole.

Andre catches me on the shoulder as he passes. “You ready?”

I pull on my glove and look toward the track.

“Yeah.”

And I am.

The track still scares me sometimes, and I think it probably always will. After the TT, it took weeks before I could watch one of them disappear around a corner without my chest tightening until they came back into view. Every yellow flag made my stomach drop. Every engine note that changed unexpectedly pulled my attention away from whatever I was doing. For a while, I hated that something I’d loved for so long had become tangled up with fear.

But Wolfe’s crash didn’t make racing any more dangerous than it already was. It just made it impossible to pretend otherwise.

That’s one of the things grief changed permanently.

I don’t think healing means forgetting what happened or reaching some magical point where I’m not afraid anymore. I think it means learning to carry the fear without letting it control every decision. It means accepting that loving people who do dangerous things comes with knowing something could happen, and deciding they’re still worth loving anyway.

Maybe loving anyone is like that.

Nothing is guaranteed.

That used to terrify me enough that I kept one foot pointed toward the exit everywhere I went. If I never settled in, never needed anybody too much and never let somewhere become home, then there was less to lose when it disappeared.

Except never letting yourself have something because you might lose it eventually is still losing it.

You just do it early.

The marshal waves me forward, and I roll out of the garage toward pit lane. The bike hums beneath me, familiar now in a way I never expected, every vibration and tiny shift something my body understands before I have to think about it.

The number three sits on the front.

My number.

I glance toward the wall as I pass the team, and they’re all there.