Page 208 of Finding Delaware

Fuck. That’s right, I forgot. It’s a country-wide competition. They wouldn’t let people fall from five-and-a-half stories high without ensuring they were as safe as possible.

My eyes fly to the screen, a shaky breath shotgunning from my lungs as I see him walk toward his bike, picking it up to try again. Each rider gets two attempts, luckily, and as he shakes his head before getting back on, I slump back into my seat, legs feeling like jello and visions of a broken, bloody Taylor in my brain.

He lines up again, flying down the strip, and this time, when he flips back into the trick, it goes just as it’s supposed to, his hands on his hips while he lifts a foot onto the bars. Both wheels stick the landing, roars and shouts erupting from the crowd, and I blink away the moisture that had formed as Taylor lifts his hands in triumph.

“Let’s fucking goooo!” Christian shouts, the camera bouncing as he jumps around, throwing his arms over both girls.

My phone drops to my lap as my head hits the back of the couch, my heart thumping so hard I can feel it in my fingers. Jesus Christ. I know dirt biking is dangerous, especially combined with freestyle motocross, but goddamn. I don’t know if I can ever watch another one of these again. My nervous system can’t take that shit, especially knowing where every scar on his body comes from. He’s such a daredevil that it’s only a matter of time before it happens again.

“Baby, are you there?”

Taylor’s voice echoes from the speaker, and I quickly pick up my phone to gaze at his grinning face. Dark, sweaty strands stick to his forehead, the tips now an electric blue. His smile slowly fades when he sees the look on my face.

“Scared you, huh?”

“Terrified. I was almost halfway across the country when I realized you were fine.”

A smug smirk pulls at his pouty lips. “A few bruises won’t keep me down. I’m a badass, remember?”

“Bruises?! Show me,” I demand, sitting up straight. Taylor chokes out a laugh.

“Considering they’re on my ass, I’ll show you later. Unless flashing the judges would help me win?”

“Well, itisa magnificent ass...”

Heat sparks in the green of his eyes, but Salem steps into view before he can respond, her bright red hair piled high.

“If you two are done flirting,” she snickers, throwing me a wink, “they’re about to announce his score.”

We all hold our breaths, waiting for what feels like ten minutes, but it’s probably only two. Finally, the judges score his performance, technique, and originality.

Eighty-four.

Eight points less than his qualifying score, and two points less than the lead, putting him in second place.

His shoulders visibly slump on screen, his smile growing tight, and a spark of anger ignites in my gut.

“That’s fucking bullshit,” I shout, jumping to my feet. “You should have been first! No one else has even been able to do that move other than you!”

“Huck, it’s okay,” he chuckles, running a hand through his hair while Christian and Arya sandwich him into a hug. “Second place is fine. It’s good. There are still a few more competitors to go, but even if I make the top five, I’ll be happy.”

My brows raise at that. “You will?”

“Are you kidding? Some of these riders have been doing tricks since before I was born. Of course, I’ll be happy.” A grin spreads across his cheeks, beautiful and genuine, lighting up my entire world. “Honestly, as a rookie rider, just getting the chance to be here is enough. More than I ever thought possible.”

For a moment, I’m breathless, seeing the joy on his face while he laughs at something Arya says. My throat tightens as I think about the boy from high school who lost the scholarship race, the boy he used to be, and more tears threaten to spill. Fuck, he’s so different now. In all the best ways. And though I can’t take credit for being the reason, I’m incredibly thankful to Salem and the guys for sticking by his side through all the shit he went through, for pushing him and believing in him to be better. They saw his worth when no one else did. Not even his own parents.

Not even me.

And I’ll never make that mistake again.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” I whisper, though he can’t hear me over the chatter coming from his friends. And it’s okay because I could sit here and look at him all night if he let me. Which he would. He’d probably like it, too.

Smiling broadly, I settle back into the couch and watch the love of my life shine.

Epilogue Two

Taylor - One Year Later

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