The Price Of His Mistake Chapter 15
*Bang—*
The starting gun fired.
The red car shot forward like a bolt of lightning. Perfect line into the first turn. Every other driver left in the dust.
Andrew watched the car fly across the track. Turn after turn. Accelerating. Overtaking.
Something I’d said to him years ago flashed through his mind again.
“The most important thing in racing is the brakes. Mashing the gas won’t make you win. You have to know when to slow down. When to stop. Love’s the same way.”
He hadn’t understood it then. He understood it now. Too late.
Final lap. Straightaway sprint.
I crossed the black-and-white checkered line in a position no one could challenge.
The crowd erupted. Thunderous cheers.
And Andrew. He stood in the corner of the bleachers. Tears streaming down his face. Watching.
He didn’t call my name. He just looked. One last, greedy look at the woman who used to belong to him. Shining under the sun.
Then he lowered his head. Turned around. Walked into the crowd. Alone.
Trackside, the car rolled to a smooth stop.
I pushed the door open. My long legs swung out of the cockpit.
All around me, the crowd roared. Champagne sprayed through the air.
I pulled off my helmet. Sweat and champagne splashed onto the hot asphalt.
The sun was blinding. I could barely see the cheering crowd at the finish line.
But I knew. This time, there was no one standing behind me. No one holding sunflowers. No one keeping me from pouring every ounce of speed into the throttle.
The wind was free. And so was I.
My brother, Edward, was in the front row of the stands. Waving a flag. Grinning like an idiot.
My mother clapped beside him. My father stood at the back. His smile was faint. But it was there.
I raised a hand to them.
It was another perfect, sun-drenched day in the Hamptons.
[The End]