Page 56 of Homecoming

Epilogue

Lola

A year and a half later

"Ian Williams," the announcer yelled Ian's name into the microphone.

He’d just won the U. S. Grand Prix.

A race that was so traumatic for both of us.

A race that was now a place of healing.

It was pushed as the last race of the season this year.

And I waited with bated breath for what was to come next.

As the last notes of the national anthem faded away, Ian's team management, including Kevin, trickled onto the stage.

This was it.

This was what Ian had been working towards for the last two years.

He’d finally won his third championship.

Last year, after Japan, we were both on a high after getting back together, thinking nothing could touch us.

We were so wrong. The news reports were brutal.

First, covering the accident, some going as far as saying that Ian was drunk that night. They tried to paint the picture of an out-of-control teenager and it wasn’t until Tim and, to our grateful surprise, Jeremy Harrison, went on Good Morning America to tell the world what had happened that they stopped.

After that, Ian was back to being a golden boy of Formula One. He was praised for clawing his way up from the bottom and getting right to the top.

But, the damage was done.

He lost two of his biggest sponsors.

Also, the team got its new owner.

Things got better after that.

Max was firmly out into the place of a second driver, but Ian never trusted him again.

Near the end of the season, he came with the news he was switching teams. Opting to drive for a middle-of-the-chart quality one.

He thought he would be king there. He thought wrong.

He finished the season second to last on the chart.

I wanted to be indifferent, but I could help to feel gleeful. In my mind, he got off easy.

He should have been thrown out on his ass, but it was not up to me.

Then the media focused on me.

How I looked. What I was wearing. If I smiled. If I frowned.

At one point it felt like no matter what I did, I did it wrong.