Page 54 of You, Me, and Lucky Number 13

“This isn’t over, Lawson!” he shouts as they drag him away. “You hear me? I’ll bury you!”

I watch him go, my heart pounding, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. When I turn back to Lola, her eyes are searching mine.

“You okay?” she asks softly.

I nod, pulling her close again. “Are you?”

She looks up at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “I would have been better if you had let me punch him.”

And just like that, the tension drains away, replaced by a wave of relief so potent it leaves me weak. I laugh, a real laugh, probably the first one in weeks, the sound echoing in the cavernous space of the winner’s circle.

“You know,” I say, resting my forehead against hers before I kiss her, a soft, lingering kiss that speaks of gratitude, admiration, and love. “I probably should have.” I take her hand, intertwining our fingers, the familiar comfort of her touch grounding me.

The announcer's voice booms over the loudspeaker. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it today’s winner, Cole Lawson!"

The crowd erupts, a deafening roar of applause and cheers that washes over me, but it feels distant, muted compared to the quiet joy that fills me as I look at Lola.

The win feels insignificant compared to the weight of Lola’s hand in mine. I raise it over my head, acknowledging the crowd, the flash of cameras capturing the moment of triumph. But my gaze is fixed on Lola, her smile brighter than any flashbulb, her presence a victory more profound than any win.

A wave of warmth washes over me, a feeling of contentment so deep it chases away the shadows of the past, the doubts, the fears. For the first time in a long time, I feel truly free.

We stand there, hand in hand, as the crowd cheers and the press swarm. The world fades away, leaving only the two of us, bathed in the golden glow of victory, a victory that transcends the racetrack, a victory of love, of trust, of finding your home in the heart of another.

When we’re finally finished with all the press and pictures, we head out to the garage where my car is parked.

“Cole Lawson!” A voice calls out. I turn to see a reporter, camera in hand, jogging towards us. “Can we get a statement about the race? About Chad Tane’s accusations?”

I feel my jaw clench, the peace of the moment shattered. But before I can respond, Lola’s there, her hand on my chest.

“Not now,” she says to the reporter, her voice firm but not unkind. “Mr. Lawson will be issuing a statement through official channels later.”

The reporter looks like he wants to argue, but something in Lola’s stance makes him think better of it. He nods, stepping back.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Thanks,” I murmur to Lola as we slide into the car.

She gives me a small smile. “That’s what partners are for.”

As we pull out of the parking lot, the weight of everything starts to settle on me. The win, Chad’s threats, the storm that’s surely coming our way. My hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“Where to?” Lola asks softly, breaking into my thoughts.

I glance at her, then back at the road. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I just… I need to clear my head.”

She nods, understanding in her eyes. “I know a place,” she says. “Take the next right.”

I follow her directions without question, letting the familiar rhythm of driving calm my nerves. We wind through the city, then out onto country roads, the landscape opening up around us.

Finally, Lola points to a turnoff. “There.”

I pull onto a dirt road that leads to the top of a hill. As we crest it, the view is fucking incredible. The city sprawls below us, a sea of twinkling lights in the gathering dusk.

We get out of the car, and Lola leads me to the edge of the hill. We stand there in silence for a moment, taking it all in.

“I come here sometimes,” Lola says softly. “When it all gets to be too much. It helps put things in perspective.”

I nod, understanding exactly what she means. Up here, our problems seem smaller, more manageable.

“Lola,” I start, turning to face her, the weight of the unspoken words, the years of guilt and regret, a heavy burden on my chest. "What Chad said… about me, about my past…”

---