Page 189 of Green Flag
But those three things hadn’t been cooperating for some time.
With Everly’s hand in mine, it was time to face it all head-on.
Standing outside of my Nonna’s house, Everly leaned against me, her arm against mine, her head resting on my bicep. “I’m scared.”
“Me too,” I said and bent to kiss her. “But we can get back on the bike and go whenever we need to.”
The whole ride over, I’d felt sick. Somehow, even when she hardly knew me, Everly was capable of taking away all my worries. She covered my visor at the lights, taunted me by putting her hands a little too close to my cock, and pretended to tickle me. Driving fast on the straight, she spread her arms wide, enjoying the breeze.
I adored her.
I stood by her side; it didn’t matter what my family thought.
What mattered was that we were still standing. Still riding. Still loving.
And no one—no one—could take that from us now.
Epilogue
Everly
Five years later
Valencia was one of Luca’s favourite places in the world. Along our travels, we always came back. Whether it was for a few days between races, on our way back from a long-haul flight, or between visiting our families. We’d gone through cities on every continent, looking for home. It was always here.
It had nothing to do with the heat or the track being half an hour away. It was a city of light and freedom, and the memory of the first time we truly becameus.
Last night we’d dragged the mattress out onto the balcony off our bedroom, piled it with a hundred blankets, and lay there with wine and nothing else but the twinkling stars.
And it was allours.
He had bought his house close to his Nonna’s years ago, but it was all in his name. This place we found together.
And after only getting the keys two days ago, I was sad to leave it.
The cliffside villa had three bedrooms and a view that made my heart ache. It was everything we’d whispered about at hotels and pit stops. I had a music room stuffed with instruments. Luca’s gaming den was all he’d ever wanted — and I’d grab a guitar and join him on a comfy swivel chair.
But the best bit? A bar.
We could shoot tequila, pinky fingers interlocked forever.
Well, when we weren’t at StormSprint.
Another thing we had, though… boxes. Mountains of boxes.
Luca found me in the walk-in wardrobe amongst a tsunami of clothes, trying to sort them into piles that kept on crashing into each other. I slumped against the drawer island with a sigh. I was running out of time. He leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms and grinned. “You’ve made a bit of a mess.”
“I’ve made a gigantic mess.” I groaned and gestured to the covered floor. “I don’t even know how I own so many clothes.”
He grimaced. “Well, you have more time to unpack now. Our plane is going to be delayed by three hours.”
I hurled a bra at a box. “Shit. We’re going to be so late.”
He shrugged and pulled out his phone. “Good thing we’re besties with the head of PR who has arranged the whole shoot.”
“She’s four months pregnant,” I said, shaking my head as I hauled myself up. “She doesn’t need any more work. Her feet have started to swell.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side. “Wait—she’s sending you feet pics now?”
