Free Pace Laps (Racing on the Edge Book 10) by Shey Stahl

not. I would never want someone to let me win. I wanted to know I earned every race.
    With some determination, Axel managed to grab the lead from me with four to go. I wasn’t giving him more than a taste of it and snatched the lead back, giving myself a good two-second cushion to work with in those remaining laps.
    On the final restart, Axel ran side-by-side with me but couldn’t make the pass stick as we crossed the line.
    Wanting to give Sway a sight she would appreciate, I did what they told me not to in the drivers meeting and did a couple of 360 turns before bringing the car down to the front stretch.
    I had to take my time getting out of the car. Mostly because once again, the emotions, the unstableness clawing at me took over and I was left hanging on by a thread, ready to crumble at her feet and beg her to take this pain away. The thing was, it wasn’t her pain to take away. She couldn’t and shouldn’t have to offer me anything. She was the one with cancer. I should be the strong one, the one she should be able to lean on.
    Now look at me. A fucking mess .
    Taking off the steering wheel, I set it on the dash and then pulled my belts loose. I was slow getting out, Sway watching my every move, but I gave her the sight she wanted.
    I wasn’t looking at her, at first, but I knew with how badly her body was shaking; she was struggling just as much as I was. Standing on the back of the car, I pounded my hands on the top wing of my car.
    Slumping forward, my head rested on the wing as I prayed to my dad. Please, Dad. If you have any control over the outcome of what she’s going through, please don’t let anyone take her from me, I silently prayed. Please, I’m fucking begging you here.
    Standing straight, I lifted my hand to the sky, holding my hand to him. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me, including how to love her.
    When I jumped down, my stare found Sway as I removed my helmet. I didn’t talk to the media; I didn’t look at anyone but her. She knew what I was going to do before I even approached her, her smile so wide, tears running helplessly down reddened cheeks.
    Stepping toward me, her arms wrapped around my shoulders as I pressed my lips to her. That kiss was significant, poignant in the bright lights around us as I held her against my body.
    Normally, I wouldn’t have kissed my wife like that in front of everyone, but right then, it didn’t matter. My tongue swept over her lips, and she gladly opened hers wider, letting me kiss her the way I wanted. Groaning into her mouth, I tangled one gloved hand into her hair, securing her face to mine as I deepened the kiss.
    It sent my stomach in a whirl, wanting more than a kiss, but not there. For the time being, she’d know where I intended this to go later.
    Her posture weakened into me, her body giving in as I demanded a response. “Jameson,” she gasped against my lips, surprised by my display in front of hundreds and hundreds of people watching us.
    “I love you,” I whispered, drawing back, brushing a gentle kiss across her forehead. “Don’t you ever forget that.” Unsure if she noticed, but a tired look of sadness passed over me when her glowing youthful happiness I usually saw had faded. It was clear she was sick. There was no denying it.
    Kissing me once more, she stared at me. “I never could.”
    The announcer for the World of Outlaws sprint car tour approached me and smiled. “Jameson Riley, you won the dash and dominated that main. There seemed to be no question you would pull it off.”
    Laughing, I took the towel Sway handed me and wiped my face. “There’s always a question when you got guys like Axel and Rager behind you. They’re gassers. You earn it when you beat them.”
    The announcer's voice shook. He didn’t want to ask, especially to someone who knocked him out once for taking a jab about my kid being handed his way in the sport. That was years ago; I was more mature, but I imagined he still thought twice before