23. Unfinished Business

UNFINISHED BUSINESS

F our hours of driving, watching tree-lined roads give way to concrete and steel, and my heart kept trying to pull me back. Back to Jake's steady presence. Back to a town that had somehow become home when I wasn't looking.

Old Mrs. Henderson had caught me loading the car, pressed a tupperware of cookies into my hands like I was some kid heading off to war. "For the road," she'd said, patting my arm. "And don't you worry about those vultures in New York. We've got your back here."

The Plaza's familiar facade loomed ahead, all gold and pretension and everything I used to think meant success. Henry spotted me the moment I walked in, his smile genuine under that professional polish.

"Mr. Blue." He moved from behind the desk, already reaching for my bag. "Welcome back. Though I hear Oakwood Grove's treating you well these days."

News really did travel everywhere. "Better than I deserve, Henry."

"Nonsense." He pressed a keycard into my hand. "Upgraded you to the park view suite. Figured you could use the extra space, given everything."

Everything. Such a small word for the shitstorm about to hit. "Thanks. Really."

The suite felt bigger than I remembered, or maybe I'd just gotten used to simpler spaces. Jake would hate it - all that gilded excess, those perfect corners meant to impress rather than comfort. The thought made me smile. My small-town sheriff with his practical ways had ruined me for fancy hotels.

Shit. Missed him already.

Sarah's office hadn't changed - organized chaos of papers and screens, coffee cups breeding in corners. She looked up as I walked in, that sharp intelligence assessing every detail.

"You look like shit."

"Missed you too, Sarah."

"Sit." Not a request. "And explain to me why the fuck you don't have an agent handling this mess."

The familiar argument settled between us like an old friend. "Because I'm done having people manage my life."

"No, you're done having people protect you from exactly this kind of situation." Her fingers flew over her keyboard, probably pulling up more disasters I hadn't considered. "An agent would've spotted Vanessa's spy, would've had protocols in place."

"An agent would've told me to stay away from Jake." The words came out harder than intended. "Would've tried to package everything into neat little press releases and photo ops."

That stopped her typing. "Ah."

"What?"

"You really love him." Not a question. "This isn't just some midlife crisis or rebellion against Vanessa. You actually found something real in that town."

My throat went tight. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Good." She spun her screen around, showing me what looked like war plans. "Then let's make sure you get to keep it. Riley's ready whenever we give the green light. Cassidy's got the legal angles covered. But Elliot?"

"Yeah?"

"This is going to get ugly before it gets better. Vanessa's team is already positioning you as the villain, using the racing retirement and the move as evidence. We need to flip that narrative fast."

The rage burned familiar in my gut. "She's the one using our kid as a weapon."

"I know." Sarah's voice went gentle. "And we'll show that. But first, we need to establish you as the stable one. The one building a real life while she plays society games."

"How?"

"By telling your story. The whole truth - falling for Jake, finding a community that accepts you, creating a proper home for Tommy. Make it about family and belonging, not scandal and sexuality."

My phone lit up - speak of the devil. Jake's morning check-in, probably between patrols. Just seeing his name steadied something in my chest.

"That's it." Sarah pointed at my face. "That look right there? That's what we're selling. Not some tabloid drama about a racing star's gay awakening. The story of a father choosing love and authenticity over fame and false images."

"And Tommy's custody?"

"Cassidy thinks that it couldn’t hurt and that it was not illegal to do.” She leaned forward, eyes intense. "But Elliot? We have to move fast. Vanessa's planning something big."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know Vanessa. Worked with her PR team back in your racing days, remember? She doesn't make threats she's not ready to back up."

Fuck. The memory of those days hit hard - Vanessa orchestrating our public image, turning every moment into carefully crafted performance.

"So what's the play?"

"We give Riley his exclusive as soon as you’re ready. Full access, no holds barred. Let him tell the real story before Vanessa can poison it." Sarah's smile turned sharp.

"What?"

"Show don't tell, darling. Let the world see the life you're building and show that Jake was meant for you. Make it real."

The idea sent electricity through my veins. Taking control of our story, showing the world what we'd found in that small town. But Jake

"Need to run it by him first." The words came automatic. "This affects his life too."

"See?" Sarah's approval felt weird but good. "Already thinking like part of a couple. Speaking of which, you tell Tommy yet? About you and the sheriff?"

My heart stumbled. "Not directly. But kid's smart. Pretty sure he figured it out before we did."

"Kids usually do." She started gathering papers, all business again.

Standing to leave, something caught my eye. A racing magazine on her desk, my face on the cover from better days. Or what I thought were better days.

"You know what's funny?" The words slipped out without permission. "Used to think this was it. The fame, the wins, the perfect image. Now all I want is to be with my kid and have quiet nights with a small-town sheriff who sees right through my bullshit."

"That's not funny." Sarah's voice went soft. "That's growing up. Finding what actually matters."

Stepped out into Manhattan's chaos feeling lighter somehow. Because yeah, a storm was coming. Yeah, Vanessa was about to throw everything she had at us.

Delaney answered on the second ring, like he'd been waiting for my call. Maybe he had been. Man always could read the wind before a storm hit.

"About fucking time." His gruff voice hit like home, reminding me of late nights in the pit, planning race strategy over cold coffee. "Heard you've been busy building houses or some shit."

"Something like that." My laugh came out shaky. "Need the crew, Delaney. Tonight. Murphy's?"

A pause, heavy with everything unsaid. "Must be serious if you're calling the old gang together."

"More than you know."

"Done." No questions, no demands. Just that solid reliability that had kept me alive through a hundred races. "Give me an hour to round them up."

Ended the call feeling that familiar pre-race tension coil in my gut. But this wasn't about racing anymore. This was about Tommy. About Jake. About finally facing the mess I'd let build for too long.

I knew these streets, remembered how to weave through Manhattan traffic like it was just another qualification lap. Each turn brought me closer to the building I used to call home, where my son spent his days surrounded by Vanessa's perfect fucking facade.

The doorman's eyes went wide when he saw me. "Mr. Blue"

"Save it, Carlos." Pushed past him, heart hammering against my ribs. "She up there?"

"Sir, I should call up"

"Don't bother."

The elevator ride felt endless. Twenty floors of memories - bringing Tommy home from the hospital, carrying Vanessa across the threshold after our wedding, all those moments when we thought we were building something real instead of just prettier lies.

Her door looked exactly the same. Polished brass numbers mocking me with their permanence. Knocked harder than necessary, adrenaline making my hands shake.

When she opened the door, everything stopped. Because there was Tommy on the floor with his trucks - the ones we used to play with together before racing took over my life. And there was Anderson, sprawled on my couch like he belonged there, like he hadn't been fucking my wife behind my back.

"Dad!" Tommy's voice cut through the red haze filling my vision. His body slammed into mine, small arms wrapping tight around my waist. "I knew you'd come! Did you bring Sheriff Jake? Can we"

"Tommy." Vanessa's voice cracked like a whip. "Jessica, take him for his walk now."

The nanny appeared from nowhere, gathering Tommy with practiced efficiency. His protests broke my heart, but this wasn't a conversation for kid's ears.

The door clicked shut behind them. The sound echoed like a starting gun.

"Well." Anderson stood, all fake casual confidence. "This is unexpected."

"Really?" Let ice fill my voice. "Didn't think I'd find out you've been playing daddy with my family? How long, Jason? Since before the divorce, or did you wait till the ink was dry?"

His face twisted. "You've got some nerve"

"No, you've got nerve." Stepped closer, letting rage fuel me. "Sitting in my house, on my couch, trying to replace me in my son's life."

"Your son?" Vanessa's laugh cut sharp. "The one you abandoned for racing? For your small-town fantasy?"

"Don't." The word came out dangerous. "Don't you dare twist this. Not when you're the one who turned our marriage into a fucking performance."

Anderson moved fast but I moved faster. His fist caught my lip but the counter came natural - years of gym training paying off as I sent him stumbling back.

"Get out." Kept my voice low, steady. Deadly. "Get the fuck out before I forget we're civilized people."

He went, dignity in tatters. Good. Let him feel a fraction of what I felt finding him here.

"That was assault." Vanessa's hands shook as she poured herself wine. Always with the fucking wine. "I could have you arrested."

"For what? Defending myself when your boy toy took a swing?" Wiped blood from my lip, the sting grounding me. "Try it. See how that plays in court."

"Why are you really here, Elliot?" Her mask cracked slightly, showing something that might have been pain. "To stake your claim? Show off your new life?"

"I'm here because our son deserves better than your games." The truth burned coming out. "Better than being a prop in your society act or a weapon in your revenge plot."

"Revenge?" She whirled on me, wine sloshing. "You think this is about revenge? You left us, Elliot. Left me to handle everything while you chased checkered flags and sponsor deals."

"And you loved every minute of it." The words hit home, made her flinch. "The fame, the money, the perfect racing wife image. Until it wasn't enough anymore."

"Nothing was ever enough for you." Her voice cracked. "Not the wins, not the acclaim, not me."

"That's not" Stopped, really looked at her. At the woman I'd once loved enough to promise forever to. "What happened to us, Van? We used to be good together."

"Fame happened. Money happened." She sank onto the couch, suddenly looking tired. "We happened, Elliot. Both of us so caught up in the performance we forgot how to be real."

Fuck. Because she wasn't entirely wrong. We'd both played our parts - the champion driver, the devoted wife. Both lost ourselves somewhere between Victory Lane and reality.

"I'm not giving up Tommy." Had to make that clear. "Not for your image, not for anything."

"And your new image?" Her smile turned bitter. "The gay awakening in small-town America? That's more real?"

"Yeah." The certainty in my voice surprised us both. "Yeah, it is. Because for the first time, I'm not performing. I'm just living. Being a dad. Being with someone who sees me, not my trophy value."

She stared at me for a long moment, wine forgotten. "You really love him, don't you? This sheriff of yours?"

"I do." The admission came easy now. "And Tommy? He's happy there, Van. Really happy. No pressure, no perfect image to maintain. Just a kid being a kid."

Something shifted in her eyes - grief maybe, or recognition. "I do love him, you know. In my way."

"I know." Because I did know. She loved Tommy like she loved everything - perfectly, possessively, with strings attached. "But love isn't enough if it comes with conditions."

Stood to leave, the fight draining out of me. We'd both lost here, both failed in different ways. But maybe that's what had to happen for something real to grow from the ashes.

Murphy's hit me with that familiar mix of stale beer and loyalty the moment I walked in. Found my crew exactly where I knew they'd be - back corner, same table we'd claimed after every race, win or lose.

Delaney spotted me first, his grin splitting that weathered face. "Look what the fucking wind blew in!"

The bear hug knocked the breath out of me, but fuck if it didn't feel like coming home. Different home than Jake's quiet strength, but home all the same.

"Boss man!" Tom shouted over the noise. "Tell me you're back to save us from Martinez's ego. Fucker's been unbearable since you left."

Found myself surrounded by grease-stained hands and genuine smiles. These guys had seen me through a hundred races, patched up more than just cars when things went sideways.

"First round's on me." Called to the bartender, knowing she'd remember our usual. Some things never changed, even when everything else did.

"So." Delaney settled beside me, that knowing look in his eyes. "Small town life treating you good?"

"Better than I deserve." The truth came easy here. These men had seen me at my worst, my best, everything between.

The beers arrived, familiar rhythm of team celebration taking over. Stories flew fast and loose - who'd crashed what, who'd made rookie mistakes, all the gossip I'd missed while building my quiet life.

"Martinez tried your inside move at Bristol." Tom laughed, beer sloshing. "Ended up eating wall instead."

"Serves him right." But the racing talk felt distant now, like watching a movie of someone else's life.

Delaney caught it first. Always did. "Something's eating at you, kid. Spill."

Fuck. Here we go. Though Delaney already knew bits of it, I still wanted to come clean.

"Need to tell you something." My voice came out steadier than expected.

The table went quiet, that focused silence they used to give me before big races. Waiting. Listening.

"Met someone." The words stuck briefly. Pushed through. "In Oakwood Grove. Someone who makes everything make sense."

"About fucking time." Mike's approval made my chest tight. "After Vanessa, thought maybe you'd sworn off relationships entirely."

"Not exactly." Deep breath. No going back now. "His name's Jake. He's the town sheriff."

The silence stretched. Not hostile, just processing. Beer bottles frozen halfway to mouths, eyes widening as it sank in.

Tom broke first, spitting beer across the table. "Hold up. You're telling me that you moved to a small town just to shack up with a small-town cop? A male cop?"

"Got a problem with that?" Steel entered my voice, ready to defend what Jake and I had built.

"Fuck no." His grin came wide and real. "Just pissed I lost the bet. Mike, you called this years ago."

Wait. What?

Delaney’s laugh filled the space. "Please. Remember that charity gala? The way he couldn't take his eyes off that Swedish driver?"

"You knew?" The words came out small, shocked.

"Kid." Mike's hand landed warm on my shoulder. "Known you since you were a rookie trying too hard to be what everyone expected. Maybe you're just finally figuring out who you actually are."

The acceptance hit like a tidal wave. These men, who'd seen me through everything, just nodding like this was the most natural thing in the world.

"Tell us about him." Tom leaned forward, genuinely curious. "This sheriff who stole our champion."

So I did. Told them about Jake's quiet strength, his dedication to his town. About pancake mornings and starlit conversations. About a man who saw through my walls and stayed anyway.

"Sounds real." Mike's voice went soft. "More real than anything you had with Vanessa, if I'm being honest."

"It is." The certainty felt good. Right. "He's worth everything. The media shit, the custody battle, all of it."

"Custody battle?" Tom's face darkened. "Vanessa giving you trouble?"

Filled them in on that too. The threats, the press conference, everything. By the end, I had a crew of pissed-off racing veterans ready to drive to Oakwood Grove and stand guard.

"She's not winning this one." Delaney’s tone brooked no argument. "We've got your back, kid. Whatever you need."

"Damn straight." Tommy raised his bottle. "To the boss man and his sheriff. May they give Vanessa the biggest fuck you in racing history."

The toast went around, each man adding their support in their own way. Simple, solid, real.

"You know what's funny?" Found myself saying as the night wound down. "Spent years thinking this was my only family. The crew, the circuit, all of it. Now I've got Jake, and Tommy, and this whole town that just took us in without question."

Left Murphy's feeling lighter than I had in weeks. Because yeah, tomorrow would bring more battles. More press, more custody shit, more challenges.

But I wasn't facing it alone anymore.

Had Jake's strength at my back.

Had my crew in my corner.

Had a whole damn town ready to fight for what we were building.

Time to show Vanessa what real family looked like.