Seven Months Later
“The kids are ready for you.” Chloe walks into my Bandini suite.
I smile up at her as I zip up my race suit. “They’re all out there?”
She nods and offers me her hand. “Ready to watch their favorite guy race in his first Grand Prix.”
I finish strapping on my iWalk before standing up from the couch. Together Chloe and I exit the Bandini motorhome where I get ready and relax before races.
We walk down the main road toward the series of stages where racers and sponsors meet fans.
Chloe swings our hands between us. “Are you ready for your first season back?”
“Yes.”
People stop and stare. Some openly gape at my iWalk while others avoid direct eye contact with me. It should make me uncomfortable, but one look at Chloe’s grinning face has me ignoring them.
Who cares about the rest of the world when mine revolves around this girl?
She leads me toward the stage. “Are you nervous?”
“Surprisingly no.”
“How do you feel about the car?”
“Are you sure you want the answer to that? You might get jealous.”
Her shoulders shake as she laughs to herself. “Me? Jealous of a car?”
“I loved her before you,” I tease.
She sticks her tongue out at me. “She might be your first love, but she won’t be your last.”
“Someone is cocky.”
“I’ve earned my place.” She winks.
A rush of laughter erupts out of me.
We stop at the entrance to the stage. I tug her into my body and place a kiss on her head. Wanting to soak in the moment, I take a few deep breaths.
Chloe fiddles with the zipper on my suit. “Just a fair warning. I might have done something extra special for today.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask you.”
“Why don’t I show you instead?” Chloe’s devious smile sets me on alert.
Hand in hand, we walk up the steps of the stage. Hundreds of kids scream at the top of their lungs as I enter the massive stage. They’re not wearing the Bandini gear I sent them as part of the charity welcome package.
No.
Every child, from little babies to teens with smug grins, wear variations of Iron Man clothing. Some wave their prosthetic arms in the air, holding up posters with my name. While everyone looks different, from their ethnicities to their ages, they all have one thing in common.
They’re all like me.
I blink at their costumes, which was definitely not part of the plan.
“Surprise?” Chloe looks at me in a way that seems like she wants to gauge my reaction.
The crowd screams as my family walks out onto the stage. Noah holds on to Marko who is decked out in his own Iron Man costume. Maya and my parents join him, smiling at me in their Bandini shirts. My mom brushes away a tear running down her cheek while my dad hugs her close to his side.
I look down at the woman I love. “You planned all this?”
“Well, you did ask me to help you set up today’s event.”
The crowd begins to chant Iron Man louder and louder. I walk up to the edge of the stage, completely mystified.
Chloe places something in my hands, and I look down at it. It’s a new custom race helmet. Iron Man’s arc reactor symbol is centered at the top, surrounded by the Spanish flag. I flip it around and check out the back. A custom sticker with Chloe’s dainty writing is located at the bottom of the helmet.
You might be the hero in my story, but you’re the legend in theirs.
This is one of the best gifts someone has given me.
With one hand, I grab Chloe and pull her into my body. I place a soft kiss against her lips. “Thank you.”
“Oh, please! You’re the one who started this charity. I only brought them all here.”
“There wouldn’t be a charity, let alone an event, without you to begin with. You and your crazy plan to trespass on private property.”
She laughs to herself. “Maybe there was a cat who needed saving.”
“Or maybe there was a man who needed saving.” I look out at the crowd of kids who all have prosthetics because of the foundation I started. All it took was one video of a kid crying as he looked at his stump to show me that I had a different purpose besides racing. Parents struggle to afford the prosthetics to begin with, but add children’s growth spurts into the mix, and they have whopping medical bills. With Chloe’s help, I created my foundation in the hopes of setting an example.
I’m not only racing for me anymore. I’m racing for them. For the people who need someone to look up to who can show them that they’re bigger than a disability. To show them that we are the new normal.
Their chants grow louder as I raise the helmet in the air and smile.
Time to race.
Engine vibrations tickle my spine. The smell of fresh rubber taints the air, blowing into the tiny gap I left open in my visor. My third-place spot on the grid is behind my Bandini teammate and Elías, the race leader.
I’m back. I make a sign of the cross and say a quick favor. With two gloved hands, I clutch onto my steering wheel. There’s a slight tremble in my hands.
Relax. You’ve practiced for months with Noah. You’ve got this.
Crew scatter away from the pavement. Five red lights turn on, one by one. My heart lurches in my chest as all five shut off simultaneously.
I tug on the throttle pad. My tires screech as my car speeds through the grid. The rush builds inside of me as I make it through the first straight unscathed. Somehow, I hold on to third place, right behind Elías and my teammate, Finn.
I smile behind my helmet as James comes onto the mic.
“Great start, Santiago. Keep a steady pace and show these bastards what a podium winner looks like.” He rattles off some statistics to watch.
I use the throttle pad and brakes interchangeably, making it through the first lap without a problem.
I love the way my heart races in my chest. Love the feel of the tires shuddering beneath me, shredding apart as I complete each lap. It’s addictive to pass by the roaring Grandstands.
I love it all. Every ragged breath escaping my lungs, every curve of the track, every time my teammate gives me a hard time about passing him.
Lap after lap, I hold my third place while fighting off other drivers behind me. None get past me, but it’s not good enough.
I want more. For the kids who came to support me and for the woman who stood by my side through it all.
I inch up to my teammate. We drive in tandem through the long road before I go around the outside of his car and speed in front of his.
“Amazing! That’s what I’m talking about!” James hoots.
Adrenaline is my drug of choice. The rush is instant, and the feeling is unparalleled.
The engine rattles as I increase my speed. The throttle paddle works like a dream, and after all my practices, it’s second nature to me.
Elías remains the race leader in his gray McCoy car. He hugs the curves at every turn and centers himself during every straight.
I pull on the throttle, and my car speeds up behind him. His rear bumper is close, to the point where I can practically touch it with the tip of my front wing.
“Take it easy,” James adds through the team radio.
Everything about this is easy, and that’s what makes it all the more fun. I don’t care about landing on a podium anymore or becoming the best. All I care about is having fun and living my life.
Winning isn’t about a Championship title anymore. It’s about making me proud, no matter the outcome. Other people’s praise is only an added bonus now. Because in the end, I spent way too many lost years focusing on the opinions of people who didn’t matter.
Elías doesn’t hold back during the last few laps. I drive by his side, only to be pushed back into second place when we reach the next turn. He’s talented and a natural at defending. I can honestly learn a thing or two from his skills.
He passes the finish line less than a second before me. I raise my fist in the air and drive up to the Grandstand housing all the kids from earlier. Their screams grow louder as my car gets closer.
I force my car to do donuts on the track in front of them. Smoke rises from the burning tires, and the crowd goes wild. My smile doesn’t drop the entire time.
I don’t need my leg to race. All I needed was a dream, the courage, and a badass girlfriend who called me out on my shit time and time again. I needed someone to teach me how to accept that I wasn’t broken but lost.
Life isn’t about chasing the rush anymore. It’s about wanting to slow time down and enjoy every single second because I don’t want to miss a thing.
It took one chance encounter with a stranger to change my life. One person to make me realize that I can’t love someone else until I love myself. One dreamer who makes me want to wish in journals or on lucky stars or on damn dandelions for all I care.
One girl. One love. One forever.
