Page 214 of Law Maker
But copying his strategy hadn’t worked. Things hadn’t worked out with his first team, and his technique fit him better than it ever fit me. Maybe Roy was right. Maybe I needed to take a leap of faith, embrace who I was, and trust Dad would still be proud.
***
I knew it even before the front wheel grazed the finish line.
First.
Fuckingfirst.
Fans roared. My crew jumped up and down. Swallowing the knot in my throat, I pressed my fingers to my lips, then pointed upward—to where Dad was watching.
I wanted to call Kaia. She’d probably left me a voice message already; she wouldn’t miss the race.
I didn’t need a win to feel lucky—I had her—but fuck, this felt incredible.
After the cooldown lap, I followed Marshall’s directions into the pit lane. None of it was new—the team’s congratulations, the quick interviews, the podium ceremony—but everything felt amplified. Brighter.
“Congratulations again,” Roy said as we walked to the media center. “Kind of regret giving you advice, not gonna lie.”
I clapped his back, laughing. “Too late. And thanks. Hope I made the race more fun for you.”
“Should’ve poisoned you yesterday,” Roy muttered. “I handed you the stick to break my own head with.”
“Exactly that.”
People swarmed the media center. I considered the staff entrance but fuck it. As Roy and I cut through the throng, my pulse skittered.
One second. A flash of a familiar face in the crowd. No way.
“Asher?” Roy called, about to step inside.
“Go ahead. I’ll be a minute.”
I pivoted, feet carrying me toward the man I hadn’t seen in years. The crowd parted; my heart pounded. Was it really him?
“Miguel,” I called.
He turned slowly, and I stopped dead. It was him. Lines bracketed his mouth, gray streaked his temples. Mid-forties, but older somehow. Worn down.
“Asher,” he said.
Questions jammed my throat.Why didn’t you call? Why ignore my emails? Why send me that gift in December?
I opened my mouth, but nothing came.
He stayed silent too, watching me the way he used to when I was a kid, and he told me I’d go far. Why was he here? For me?
The crowd funneled into the media center. Shit. I needed to go—but I couldn’t let him vanish again. I’d rather miss the press conference than this chance.
“We need to talk,” I told him. “After the conference. Can you wait?”
He nodded, weary. “I’m going there too.”
My gaze snagged on the pass around his neck. He belonged here. He must work in racing now.
As we walked toward the building, I caught his glances. They burned into me, sent my blood racing.
He slipped into a seat at the back beside the sports reporters. I joined Roy at the front table. My phone vibrated. I unlocked it instantly.
