It took me a lot of time to regain this faith. It took passing through a few months of depression before realizing that acceptance of what is, what has been, and what will be is all that can bring us peace.

Although I regained faith in my life, I did not regain my faith in love. In ever being able to love like that again. A love unlike that given to friends and family—passionate, deep, consuming, erotic love, the deepest vulnerability anyone can have.

The reasons why love can bring us all incredible peace, satisfaction, fulfillment, and joy (these reasons being that love requires acceptance of oneself and another, creating harmony and balance through allowing oneself to be vulnerable) are the same reasons that make love so dangerous, and ultimately, so hurtful.

When we lose those we love, or those we love hurt us, or we hurt those we love—it is a pain deeper than any other. Because it hurts the expression of the purest, most innocent, powerful, human emotion: love.

I closed my heart up after that day. Because I needed to heal, and so did it. My trust in the universe, in life, in everything turning out okay was completely shattered. I was sure I’d never allow myself to be vulnerable again, to let myself love and be loved.

Almost.

Until I stared into the most striking blue eyes I have ever seen in my life. Until I met a man who touched me like I was made of glass. Who ran his fingers over my skin as if it were the finest silk. Who looked into my eyes without a shred of judgment, of doubt, of ANYTHING other than acceptance, joy, and love.

I didn’t think I would ever find something like this ever again, much less that it could surpass it. I feel my heart almost burst open as I lie in bed cuddled up to this man who holds me to his chest now protecting me with his body against anything and everything. He lays over me as my shield.

I feel tenderness behind every look he gives me, every smile, every touch, and every kiss.

Even as he sleeps I can feel how fiercely he adores me. How he fights for me. How he cherishes me. And I want to cry.

And so I do.

I start to sob quietly under him because I didn’t ever, ever think I would be looked at the way he looks at me.

I feel my body shake and my vision blur as I shut my eyes and continue to feel my body shake. I cry because I am so thankful. And so happy. He makes me so, so happy.

He wakes up then, his hair a mess, a beautiful rumpled mess, and his eyes a smooth warm shade of just-woke-up blue.

He looks at me and immediately cups my face in his hands and nuzzles my wet cheek with his nose.

His huge hands almost swallow my whole face, but they hold me with such tenderness it makes my heart ache even more.

“Hey, hey, I’m here baby …” he coos in my ear, wrapping his strong arms around me and bringing my face to his neck.

He rolls onto his back and holds me there, silently crying into his neck.

I don’t know what is going on with me but I can’t seem to stop crying.

I cry for my mom. For her leaving me, and my family behind.

I cry for my brothers, who have since the day I was born carried me, fed me, practically raised me alongside my father.

I cry for my father. I sob for my father. The only parent I have left. Who has loved me with everything he has, fiercely and completely. I cry for him, I cry because soon I’ll be without him. I won’t see his face, hear his voice, or let him hold me. I cry because I know I’m losing my dad. And that breaks me.

And lastly I cry for me. I cry for Lana. Because after everything that has happened to me, every experience I have gotten the pleasure to live through, I wouldn’t change a thing. Because it led me to this moment. And it led me to him.

Racer.

I hear myself say the words. “Racer, I love you.”

I raise my eyes from where I placed a kiss on his firm lips, and I find his bright, vivid blue eyes staring back at me. And for the first time I realize exactly what this man means when he says that my eyes are expressive. Because right now, his are just like that. It’s like looking through a clear, crystal blue glass shimmering with stars—and I can tell that he’s happy.

I can simply tell that I am loved … beyond my wildest dreams.

Racer

It’s crunch time. Racing Abu Dhabi today. Fighting for the championship. The stakes have never been so high for me, and I’ve never wanted to win a race so fucking badly. Hell I love to win, but this race isn’t just for me. It’s for Lana and her family.

I don’t sleep; don’t even try to.

I feel good in the car, feel good about this.

Feel great about Lana lying in bed, sound asleep after saying she loved me last night. She’s said it before—at the hospital. But somehow it counts more when she says it just because.

I dial my father once Lana wakes and steps into the shower, gazing out the window at Abu Dhabi while he answers.

“I’m fired up,” Dad says.

“You watching me race?”

“We’re having friends over, we’re all watching. Maverick and Reese, Melanie and Greyson, Pandora and Mackenna.”

I smile knowing they’ll all be cheering for me.

“Racer,” Dad says.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

“Yeah, I will.”

“And Racer?”

“Yeah?”

A pause before Dad growls, “Go kill it.”

“I learned from the best,” I say, and hang up.

We hit the race track, and the cameras keep snapping pictures of me everywhere I go. I ignore them, focused only on what’s coming ahead—and on Lana.

She’s worried about me, I know.

She’s lost love once—and though I know she knows we wouldn’t have found each other otherwise, it hurts her and it hurts me to know she fears losing me too.

She’s not gonna.

Ever.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” I tell her when I notice the look of concern in her sweet green eyes.

She opens her mouth as if to contradict me, then frowns the sweetest frown on a human being these eyes have ever seen.

I pull her closer to me by her shoulders, my voice stern. Hell, I know she can’t help being fearful, but I can’t help wanting to reassure her.

“Lana. Look at me. Do you believe in me?”

I give her a squeeze, willing her to know I’d never leave her. I’d fight death for my crasher. I’d fight my own monsters harder, every day, for her.

“I believe in you. It’s just the other things that happen that make me fear,” she says, her brow scrunching even deeper in worry.

I smile down at her, my chest soft with tenderness even as my determination doubles in steel.

I chuck her chin gently, keeping my voice low for her. “I’m doing what I love. For the person I love most. I’m the luckiest motherfucker on this planet.”

I smile and pat her gorgeous ass to remind her who she belongs to before I head to the drivers’ meeting. Silent. Focused. All those patches on their suits are sponsors; my goal is that after I win this thing, Lana will have to field them, vet them, pick the ones she likes.

Lana continues organizing everyone’s clothes and breakfast. She takes care of us all. When this is over, I want to take care of her for a change.

I meet with Adrian to discuss strategy.

“If you’ve got something to give, give it now. Don’t hold back,” Adrian says.

“I never do.”

“Good.”

“Usually teams have several drivers to help each other out, to provide support and give feedback about the track. We could never afford to do that. All the track input we have will come from you and only you—”

“I got this.”

“You qualified P2. Watch out for P4 and P3 on the start; they’ll be trying to eat up a spot.”

“P1 better watch out for me,” I say.

I grab my helmet, boots, and racing suit—knowing that for this year, it’s the last time I’ll put these on for a race. This fucking race is for my girl. This win is for her, and for the family who believed in me enough.

It’s also for me.

Because, fuck, I love this shit too much.

I change in the motorhome and search her out, sitting by her dad, when I walk down the steps.

She smiles and comes over, even more nervous than she was a few minutes ago.