“Holy shit, man. You made it!”

Tyler raised his hand in a careful wave as he strode up to the all-too-familiar car. His baby looked like she was ready to go this weekend, and not a moment too soon.

“Hey, Chess,” he greeted his teammate with a manly hug, ignoring the wave of pain that nearly buckled his knees when Chess slapped his back.

“Shit, you should sit down. How are you doing?” He found himself ushered to the edge of the tent as the other guys waved to him and elbowed each other. Roger would be here any minute now, as word came on the grapevine that Ty had shown up to race.

“I’m all right,” Tyler told Chess with a trademark grin. “They can’t keep me down for long.”

“Thought you’d be out for a lot longer, the way you got smashed up.”

“Nah, man.” Tyler shook his head. “I’ll crawl out of my skin if they make me sit around doing nothing any longer.”

Chess eyed him. “Are you seriously good for today? You know Roger’s gonna grill you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m good. I know what I can do. I drove here,” Tyler shrugged with his better shoulder.

“At seventy, maybe. How’s one-fifty gonna treat you?”

Tyler knew he was in for a hell of a ride. He couldn’t take the good drugs, either, so it was gonna be an endurance test. But he’d be damned if he was gonna sit around and let people coddle him when he was capable of doing the job. That just wasn’t the kind of guy he was.

“I can sit, I can push pedals, and I can move my arms. That’s all I gotta do.”

Roger greeted him with, “Dead man walking! Jesus, it’s good to see you again.”

Tyler stood and turned to the tent entrance, squinting as Roger strode in. “Hey, Roger. Yeah, it’s so good to be back.” Once more, his ribs had to endure a crushing manly hug, and he hid his grimace in a grin when they pulled apart. “I’m ready to go.”

“The doc check you out?”

“Transferred me to Doc Gordon out in Nashville. Gordon said he wouldn’t stop me,” Tyler grinned. Technically, he was bending the truth a little, but luck was on his side and Roger didn’t question him about it.

“That’s one thing,” Roger said, squinting at him. “You sure you’re up for it? Just ’cause Gordon says it…”

“I’m ready. Dude, missing one week killed me.”

“As long as not missing one more won’t really kill you this time,” Roger told him.

That reminded Tyler—he had to talk to Roger about his suspicions. Richie had behaved himself during the last race, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t try the same stunt again this time.

“Can I have a word?”

As if summoned by his very thoughts, Richie passed by the tent and stopped short. His jaw dropped before he managed a grunted, “Hey. You’re back.”

Tyler jerked his chin in acknowledgment. “Can’t keep me down.”

He noticed the subtle downturn of Richie’s lips. “Right. Cool. Good luck today.”

Roger snorted with laughter. “He was glad not to see you last week. You gonna give him hell today?”

“Hell, yeah. That’s what I wanted to mention, actually.”

Movement by the fence caught his eye, and he spotted Richie. He’d gone straight over to talk to reporters.

That made Tyler uneasy.

Roger followed his gaze. “You think he sabotaged you, don’t you?”

“I… I think so. I can’t prove it. The investigation didn’t turn up anything, did it?”

“Looked like a clean bump. No reason it should have ended…” Roger shivered. “Man, you had a close call.”

Tyler glanced back at the car. Yeah, she was still his, but there were a hell of a lot of new parts on her. “I know.”

“Sure you’re ready for it? If he does have it out for you, he won’t try the same stunt. But there’s plenty of ways to skin a cat, or flip a car.”

Tyler’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t gonna let one asshole ruin everything for him. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“Heads up,” Roger answered, nodding toward the tent entrance.

Shit. There was a team of reporters—a guy with a camera and someone carrying a microphone.

No doubt Richie had tipped them off to Ty’s return to glory. Or…

I still haven’t confirmed the rumors. “You think they’re gonna…”

“Turn the conversation the way you want it to go. If you’d rather wait for Sarah to get involved…”

“No.” Tyler was firm on that. He could handle this himself. It was the moment he’d been waiting for his entire career.

Just as Tyler expected, they didn’t make it past thirty seconds of interview time—asking about his injuries, whether he was ready to get back in the car, what had happened on the track last time—before the question came up.

“While you were away, there were some rumors circulating about your, uh, relationship status.”

Tyler smiled. “Yes.”

“Is that confirming there’s a—a man in the picture?”

“Yep.” Tyler waited. Normally, the question would be about how they’d met, how the girlfriend in question felt about him racing, if she was a motorsports fan.

Instead, the question he got was, “How does it feel to be the first out gay man at your level in the league?”

Tyler raised his eyebrows. “Same as it feels to be the first out straight man, I imagine. I mean, none of us are thinking about wedding bells while we’re behind the wheel.”

Seemingly relieved at the answer, the reporter laughed, then moved on to ask him about his individual points record for the season, and whether he figured he’d be able to make up the absence.

That was it? Tyler fought back the confusion and even disappointment. He’d expected to be probed and questioned and maybe even given That Look. But they seemed happy to say as little as possible about it.

“What do you think your chances of winning today are?”

Tyler gave a broad grin. “I’m facing the winner’s podium no matter what. You can flip me over but you can’t keep me down.”

The look on the reporter’s face was priceless—he started to grin, froze, stared, then fumbled for words as he turned to the camera and finished the interview on autopilot.

The pair left without a word, and Tyler waited until they were just out of earshot before he cracked up.

The track was getting busier now. Every team had at least a dozen guys around, plus all the league employees, track employees, photographers, super-fans, and hangers-on.

With half an hour to go before his practice lap, he could afford to sit down for a minute. No sense in exhausting himself before the green flag.

As he sank into a camping chair to watch the guys arguing over his engine, Tyler stared at the front bumper, which was sitting next to the car right now in a pile of bolts and pieces.

What if…?

No way. The investigators would have checked, right?

Unless the bumper was so smashed up the evidence was gone.

A familiar voice reached Tyler’s ears, and he drew a sharp breath.

“You look good in spandex.”

It was Alec.

For a moment, Tyler couldn’t make sense of it: what was he doing here of all places?

Then, the expression on Alec’s face made Tyler pause. Oh, shit. He’d never seen Alec look pissed off before, but he was pretty sure this was what it looked like.

He was in trouble.

“Uh. Thanks.”

Alec gave him a look that said Really?

“I mean, it’d be rude to turn down the compliment.”

Sarah was at Alec’s arm. She glanced between them, then raised her eyebrows. “This guy showed up, and he was on your comp list. I guess we’re good?”

“Yeah,” Alec answered for Tyler. “We’re good.”

Tyler opened his mouth, then closed it again and nodded once.

Sarah looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Good luck.” She strode out of the tent.

Tyler could hear the sudden silence from the other guys. “C’mon. Let’s take a walk.”

“You’re not walking an inch further than you have to. Sit down,” Alec told him, his voice strangely friendly as he pulled up another camp chair. “We’ll talk more after the race. You don’t need any more pressure.”

I’m fucked. Tyler nodded once. Alec was so gonna break up with him.

He had it coming anyway. He’d spent a few days moping after the appointment with Doc Gordon, and then he’d made his decision.

No more being babysat by Josh. No more being coddled by Alec. Tyler just wanted to race, and goddamn it, to prove he was still able to.

If Alec disagreed with the decision… well, Tyler could cry about it later. Right now, he had to do what had to be done.

“How’s your range of motion?”

“Getting there. If I’m careful, I’ll be okay.”

“No sudden movements,” Alec warned, his voice quiet. His hand rested on Tyler’s, on the arm of his camp chair. “No sudden inhalation, either. You’re not on anything, are you?”

Tyler shook his head.

“Good. If you’re able to move around this much without medication, I’m impressed.” Alec eyed him and added in an undertone, “And pissed off.”

Tyler nodded. “Sorry…” he started, but Alec was shaking his head.

“Don’t get into that yet. Now that I’m here, what can I do besides sit in the stands and watch you this evening?”

A smile crept across Tyler’s face. Alec didn’t hate him. He wasn’t here to blow up and storm off. He was here to… to help?

It seemed too good to be true.

Tyler kept his voice so quiet that even Alec had to lean in. “Just tell me I can do this.”

Alec’s expression shifted from briskly professional to sympathetic. He squeezed Tyler’s hand gently and murmured, “You better fucking do this. If you’re willing to take this risk, you’re gonna do it right.”

“Yes, sir,” Tyler murmured, offering a slight smile. “No fancy stunts today. Better to finish a little slow than not at all.”

Alec nodded. “That’s right. I’ve looked up videos of you, by the way. You’ve got talent.”

Tyler tried not to blush, but it was futile. He could feel the guys sneaking glances at them. Well, there’s coming out, and then there’s coming out. “We still… uh, boyfriends?”

Alec’s eyes crinkled in a slight smile, and then he puffed out a quick breath, shaking his head. Not in a no way, but in a what an idiot way. “Duh.”

“Oh.” Tyler’s heart leapt, and he was suddenly smiling. “Cool.”

“I’m not gonna break up with you the moment we start dating, as hard as you try.”

A chuckle burst free as Tyler closed his eyes. His whole body was suddenly more relaxed, now that his mind was at ease. “Yeah. I did try pretty hard there, didn’t I?”

“I’ll still yell at you later if you like,” Alec offered, grinning. “But I figured it might fray your concentration before your practice lap. Is that what they call it?”

Tyler’s chest felt warm. “Yeah. That’s what it’s called, baby.” It was so damn good to see Alec, and now that they were holding hands, he found himself unwilling to be the first one to let go.

“You’ll have to head up to the stands soon—sorry.”

Alec nodded. “I’ll think very stable thoughts for you. Four on the floor, man.”

Tyler burst out laughing, and then he leaned in to kiss Alec.

He didn’t care who knew about them. He didn’t even care who saw. Hell, he wanted them to see. He’d met just about everyone’s girlfriends or wives before.

Finally—finally!—it was his turn.

For the first time in his life, winning on the track seemed less important than going home afterward. Although a win to impress Alec would be pretty damn sweet, too.

“Thank you,” Tyler murmured, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Alec squeezed his hand gently. “You’re welcome, you big damn idiot. Now, go kick that lap’s ass.”

Tyler beamed back at Alec and rose to his feet, slowly but steadily. “You know it, baby.”

For the first time since the accident, Tyler’s confidence was back to a hundred percent. He could do this—and he could do it well. And with Alec by his side, he was gonna figure out Richie’s game and beat him at it, too.

God, it was good to be back.