Page 2 of Redeeming Melodies

Victory Lane erupted in chaos - cameras flashing, crew jumping the wall, champagne already flying. I was barely out of the car when Anderson stormed up, face red beneath his helmet.

"The hell was that move?" He was in my space, all coiled tension and bruised ego. "You could've taken us both out!"

"Could've." Kept my voice easy, unzipping my firesuit. "But I didn't. Maybe if you spent more time practicing and less time complaining?—"

"You son of a?—"

"Ladies, please." Martinez appeared between us, that shit-eating grin firmly in place as he threw an arm around each of our shoulders. "Save the lover's quarrel for the cameras, yeah? Some of us still need sponsorships."

I couldn't help laughing at that, feeling Anderson relax slightly under Martinez's touch. "Speaking of sponsorships, that dive-bomb you tried in turn four? Ballsy. Stupid, but ballsy."

"Learned from the best, didn't I?" Martinez winked, shameless as ever. "Though next time maybe I'll wait until the oil temps aren't trying to cook us all alive."

"You saw that, huh?"

"Half the pit lane saw it, pendejo." He squeezed my shoulder. "Good thing you're pretty enough to get away with that kind of crazy."

Anderson finally cracked a smile, shaking his head. "One of these days that luck's gonna run out, Blue."

"Not luck." Delaney's voice carried across the chaos as he approached, Tom right behind him with his trademark clipboard. "Pure skill and the best damn crew in town.”

"Pure something anyway." Anderson offered his hand, our earlier tension dissolving. "Good race, man. Even if you are a crazy bastard."

"Right back at you." The handshake turned into one of those half-hugs racing guys did. "Though maybe next time leave me more than a coat of paint to work with?"

"Where's the fun in that?" He grinned, already backing away toward his own crew. "See you at the presser. Try not to make the rest of us look too bad."

Martinez lingered, something knowing in his dark eyes. "You good, hermano? Been hearing things..."

"I'm good." The lie came automatic now. "Just focusing on the racing."

"Right." He didn't believe me - we'd known each other too long for that. "Well, when you're ready to talk about what's really going on, first round's on me."

I watched him jog off to his team, that easy grace carrying him through the crowd. My own crew swarmed around me then, the familiar chaos of victory lane taking over. Tom appeared at my elbow, already running diagnostics on his tablet while Mike started breaking down the race data.

The pit crew hoisted me onto their shoulders, champagne spraying everywhere. These guys had been with me since the beginning - through the rookie mistakes, the near misses, the championships. They weren't just a crew; they were family.

"Car held together nice," Tom said without looking up from his tablet, but his grin gave him away. "Though maybe next time warn a guy before you try to rewrite the laws of physics?"

"Where's the fun in that?" I echoed Anderson's words, grinning at Tom's eye roll.

"Children, the lot of you." But Delaney's smile took any sting out of the words as he pulled me into a bear hug. "Damn fine driving, kid. Damn fine."

The crew gathered around, each one getting their moment - handshakes, hugs, inside jokes that went back years. Mike ruffled my hair like he'd done since my rookie days, while Jerry from tire management demonstrated my winning move with increasingly dramatic hand gestures.

"Speech!" someone shouted, and suddenly they were all chanting, these men who'd helped build my dreams one pit stop at a time.

I climbed onto the pit wall, champagne bottle still in hand. "This win? This belongs to all of us. Every late night, every practice run, every time you believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself. You're not just my crew - you're my brothers."

The cheers that erupted drowned out everything else. For these precious moments, I let myself forget about the press conference waiting, about the custody battle looming, about all the decisions I still had to face.

"Now come on, champion," Delaney said softly as the celebration continued around us. "Time to face the vultures."

Right. The press conference. Where they'd ask about everything except the racing - the custody battle, the rumors about retiring, all the stuff I'd been outrunning at 200 mph.

But for now, I let myself have this moment. Let myself be just another driver celebrating with his crew, pretending the world outside Victory Lane didn't exist.

Even if just for a little while longer.

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