“How gay do you think motorsports are?”

Tyler had been prepared to answer what’s it like being the first gay driver, not this question. He stopped, then laughed.

His interviewer, Mac, mirrored the grin and waited, pencil poised on paper. The recorder between them on the hotel room desk was running, too.

He’d done a hell of a lot of interviews over the last couple months, and most of them had focused on the gay thing for a question or two before hurriedly switching focus to something else.

This was a gay magazine, though. Tyler had had no idea what to expect, but he was already glad he’d said yes. They’d warned him that if this went well, he could expect more. At this rate, he’d need a publicist of his own.

Fine by him.

“Uh, it depends how you mean,” Tyler answered, trying to figure out how he wanted to put it. “There are a lot more gay people in the racing world than are willing—or able—to admit it. Like it’s something that needs to be admitted. It should just be a fact. We ain’t there yet, though.”

Boy, had he learned that over the last few months.

Reactions had been mixed, but overall, more positive than he’d feared. Most of the guys closest to him—pretty much everyone on his team, in either the playing for or working for senses—had already known.

“You’re saying there are more drivers who haven’t come out yet?” Mac watched him intently.

Tyler hesitated. He wasn’t going to name anyone, but even saying there were could start people searching for them.

“I’d guess so. We’re a few percent of the population—there’s bound to be a few more out there. Drivers, mechanics, owners, who knows? I’ve been lucky my team supported me through all this. That comes down to the team culture, and Roger’s responsible for that. There’s other teams out there who would never hire me now.”

“Right,” Mac said. He made a note. “Speaking of support, your sponsor—Spare Tire—has just put out a diversity policy for employees. Is that your doing?”

Tyler laughed. “I wouldn’t know how to start with that. I had a hand in it, sure, but a lot smarter people figured out how to make it work.”

“But you were involved in creating it? And you decided to do that, even when Deux offered you a lot of money to bail and be their face again? Is that related?”

“Sort of. Spare Tire got in touch long before Deux, er, dropped Richie. They said they didn’t know what they were doing, but they wanted to be the kind of store where everyone felt welcome. Like my team has welcomed me with open arms. We’re out there—up to ten percent of the population, some people think. And I have a lot of female fans who know their car shit—sorry,” Tyler added, glancing at the recorder guiltily. “Can I swear?”

“Go for it,” Mac laughed.

“They know their shit, but they get treated like oh, silly dears trying to buy a spark plug. And even the ones who don’t know what they’re doing wanna be treated like any old guy walking in, you know? Spare Tire was aware of this—we all know, don’t we? But they didn’t know how to challenge it. They’re starting with a hiring diversity policy and they’re encouraging their store managers to take training on how to be more inclusive.”

“That’s a lot of activism that will make a big difference, for a guy who says he’s not very smart,” Mac pointed out, grinning.

Tyler scoffed. “That’s what my boyfriend’s always saying. I always say I just drive cars. For some reason, people pay me to look silly in my spandex outfit and say nice things. I’ve often felt invisible. I never really worried I’d get kicked off the team spectacularly, but people’s careers tend to slowly die if they break the mold.”

“Right. And yours has done far from that.”

Tyler took the compliment and nodded, grinning. “All because I feel comfortable being… totally me, now. If I can take the good experiences I’ve had and help other people feel that, too? Well, that’s worth it all.”

“Speaking of your boyfriend.” Mac leaned in, and it was clear from his expression that he was dying of curiosity. “The gays have been abuzz.”

Tyler laughed. “What do you want to know?”

“We’ve seen him supporting you at several races this season. Rumor has it he works as a physiotherapist. Is that how you met?”

“Maybe,” Tyler answered with a coy smile. “We all like a sexy guy in a white coat, don’t we?”

Mac laughed. “How does that work for you?”

“Oh, it’s hard sometimes to be apart. But he gets weekends off, and I spend the odd weekday at home with him. We moved in last month, but I’m always joking I might as well be living on Mars.”

“That sounds rough.”

“But it’s worth it,” Tyler said without a shadow of a doubt. “My brothers—all my best friends—they’ve got my back. And Alec’s at my side. It’s a long road to recovery, and I wouldn’t have made it without them.”

“Are these guys the ones from high school?”

Mac had been doing his homework. Tyler was impressed. He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Yeah, they are. Plus their boyfriends.”

That made Mac nearly fall over. “Their boyfriends? So your friends have known for a while.”

“Oh, God, yeah. It’s been an open secret for years. Nobody wanted to know until now. I still don’t know why they wanna know,” Tyler laughed. “But if someone sees me and realizes they can race fast cars and fall for a guy, or fuck guys, or both? Maybe someone feels less alone? That’s good. Being alone is hell, whether you’re gay or straight or neither. Friends and family and significant broth—significant others,” he caught himself just in time. “That’s what makes life worth it.”

“Before we go, I heard something else today. Apparently, Richie’s been spotted down in New Orleans, holding the hand of another guy.”

Tyler blinked a few times. He didn’t hear that name much anymore. Not since the investigation had wrapped up and confirmed that it had been a coordinated, deliberate attempt at sabotage from all four drivers.

They’d all lost their sponsors and points, and the team was banned for the season.

It was cold comfort when Tyler still struggled with rib twinges through his pushups. He’d been doing well at building up the muscle that seemed to have evaporated during the endless recovery.

“Huh. Who knew?”

“Was there anything—you know, between you guys?” Mac raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly.

Tyler laughed. “Come on. Just because a guy was rumored to be holding hands with another guy, you’re gonna say he’s gay? Twenty-first century. Even if he is, that’d be pretty fucked up. Lover’s quarrel gone wrong? Nah. It all comes down to money.”

It was up to Richie whether or not he decided to out himself.

After the interviewer left, Tyler stayed at the desk, weighing his phone up in his hand.

Fuck it, he finally decided. He could dig up that number with a few texts and not many questions asked.

It was the strangest text he’d ever composed, but pressing Send made his heart lighten.

A reporter cornered me today. Rumors of PDA with you & a guy. Told them it wasn’t a lovers quarrel btwn us but gossip blogs never care about the truth. I don’t either, so don’t bother answering. If you try to tell them we ever dated or fucked I’ll find a NOLA leather daddy to rip your balls off. I have better taste than you. Stay safe.

He sent Richie the text and shook his head. No matter what he’d done, nobody deserved to get dragged through the press without at least a heads-up.

What a weird damn life he had.

His phone went off a minute later.

Shame. The hate sex would have been great. Glad you’re happy now. Stay safe too.

That was the closest to a thank you he was likely to get, but it was the most contact they’d had since the investigation wrapped up and the media firestorm subsided. Besides, it wasn’t like he was ever gonna forgive Richie for what he’d done.

Sure, Richie was a young, idiot kid who had gotten caught up in the idea of buying his way to fame, but at the end of the day, he’d known the bumper was shaved. Anyone who knew anything knew how that could have ended.

Tyler shivered and pushed himself to his feet. Any time now, he had to leave for the meet-and-greet.

There was a knock on the door, and Tyler lit up. Only one person that could be. He opened the door and grabbed Alec in a hug. “Finally!”

“Yeah,” Alec breathed into his shoulder, squirming closer to him. “Do I look ready to meet them? I don’t feel ready.”

“You look perfect,” Tyler murmured. God, he’d missed this man. For good measure, he scooped Alec into his arms, beaming at the shocked expression on his face. “Missed you.”

When Alec could speak again, he gasped, “Oh, my God. You are healed!” He fanned himself with one hand and looped his arm around Tyler’s neck. “Got enough time to fuck me before we leave?”

It had been a long fucking ten days and two races since their last rendezvous, but there was no way they could risk it. Tyler laughed and cradled Alec against his chest, kissing him until he couldn’t breathe. “’Fraid not.”

“Damn,” Alec breathed. “But you can do that again to tide me over. And the sex better be coming soon.”

“Coming as soon as we can, baby.”

Tyler kissed Alec as slowly and gently and passionately as he deserved for being by his side, both near and from afar, through these long weeks.

The only thing better than those weeks was bound to be the weeks—months—years ahead.