The sun is nearly sitting on the horizon when I realize that I should probably return Pippa to Hanover Palace. She may be mine, but Ferdinand’s been keeping her and it feels like I should bring her home.

I haven’t gotten much thinking done during my drive. Rather, I’ve focused on keeping my hands on the steering wheel and being man enough to stay in the car while I just want to pull over to the side of the road and get out.

It’s been good seeing Dubreva on my drive. I’ve only been going from the palace to the hospital during my two months here, and before that I’d been so busy with the Dubrevian Grand Prix, I hadn’t gotten the chance to reconnect with my beautiful country.

It’s completely different to the ruggedness of Australia. There’s a quaintness to Dubreva, that no matter where you go, it feels homey. Old houses are speckled across the countryside outside of the main city, and driving past them, I wonder how different my life would have been if I’d been born into one of those houses instead of the royal family. A simpler life, that’s for sure.

And maybe I would have been okay with that.

After spending most of the last ten years abroad, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be home. Even when I was in Australia, I felt this pull here. And no matter how hard I fight it, I always come back.

Maybe Cat’s the same way.

I look at my hands on the steering wheel. They’ve long since stopped sweating and I’m no longer squeezing the blood out of my hands holding the wheel. I’m not cured—I haven’t gotten my speeds up—but, I’m taking it a step at a time.

I’ve lost that sense of pure panic, which I consider a huge plus.

The setting sun casts orange and pink hues across the island as I head back to Hanover Palace. Knowing that Ferdinand is there no longer makes me feel that sense of dread. He and I have come to somewhat of a mutual understanding. It’s the most civil we’ve been to each other in a long time.

I hope to keep onto it.

The lights are on inside the palace as I near it. He must still be home, meaning that I should at least go in and say hi.

I pull up to the garage and park the car inside, turning off the roaring engine with reluctance. I pat the steering wheel. “I promise,” I tell Pippa, “it won’t be that long until I drive you again.”

I grunt as I get myself out of the seat. My leg is stiff from holding it at the same position for hours, and it doesn’t want to bend or have weight put on it.

I sigh as I retrieve my cane out of the backseat. I had to condense it as much as possible to fit inside the sports car, but it does fit. I just have to telescope it again to be able to use it properly.

Now to figure out what to do with Cat. If she’ll still have me after what I did earlier today.

The thought of her going back to New York hurts me even worse than my leg. I gave her the choice of whether she wanted to stay or go. I just wish I had given her more of a reason to stay.

Why would she want to stay here with a crippled brawler?

“Coming back to Hanover Palace twice in a day,” Ferdinand says, drawing my attention to the mouth of the garage with the door open. He clicks his tongue as he walks in. “What’s the occasion?”

“Long day,” I say. “And I had to return Pippa.”

He shrugs. “She’s yours to keep.”

I give a short laugh. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have her if you hadn’t kept her,” I murmur, running my hand along one of the curves of the car. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” Ferdinand looks innocent as he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or if he really wants me to come out and say it.

I smirk, playing along. “For keeping my car for me. For making me drive again.” For making me feel like my old self. Except I am different. This whole experience has shaped me in ways I’m only just beginning to understand.

I’m scarred now, but I’m also wiser. And I’m learning how to live with that. I’m learning what I want out of life. It’s not just about racing, to keep running from my demons.

It’s to live my life to the fullest.

“You’re welcome,” Ferdinand says genuinely. He looks down at the car and nods appreciatively. “She is a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I hate that I left her behind all these years.”

He looks at me intensely, a knowing smile on his face. “I know someone else you left behind, too,” he says. “She’s been here all day waiting for you.”

I’m about to ask him what he means, when movement by the door catches my eye. I look at the newcomer, breathless, unable to believe she’s here. It’s a lot like when I saw her at the café on my drive over to the hospital.

She’s like an angel, and she watches me expectantly.

“Cat.”