“I volunteer as tribute,” Delaney said to a laugh from Reese, who hadn’t felt this relaxed in weeks. Thank God for the friends who knew the realher.
“I think I could actually get used to this. F2 was cutthroat, but they didn’t throw us too many fancy parties. Make that zero.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been stuck in the Indy world and trying to find a way back to civilization.”
“All it takes is the right sponsor.” Reese wouldn’t be anywhere near the cost-prohibitive sport without people willing to back her financially. She didn’t come from money the way so many of her competitors had and wouldn’t have had a shot without convincing rich people to take a chance on her.
“Easy for you to say.” Delaney popped her in the arm. “People love you wherever you go. They want a conversation, a photo, or to join your latest live stream.” Delaney tossed her hair back as if to imitate Reese and underline the allure.
Reese laughed. “Well, I happen to like you, so you can come on my live stream anytime you want. And sponsors? You just have to get out there and hustle. Turns out, I can hustle my goddamn ass off.”
Delaney gave Reese’s chin a shake. “It helps when you look like this cover girl right here. Looks good on an energy drink poster. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that you on the cardboard cutout in the lobby?” It had been. One of her sponsors had it flown in.
“No comment.” Reese grinned because Delaney didn’t mean any harm, but her spirits took a dip, nonetheless. Reese didn’t aspire to be a spokesperson for any product. She didn’t want to be known for the cardboard cutout. It was a necessary part of herjob to keep the funds flowing. At the very least, she hoped the racing world saw more in her driving than an opportunity to sell a drink. Sometimes she wasn’t so sure.
“Hey. You know I’m just messing with you, right?” Delaney asked quietly with her signature arched brow. She must have sensed Reese’s energy shift, having always been good at that kind of thing. On the outside, Delaney Rhodes came off like a badass, but underneath, she was a thoughtful, sensitive soul.
“Yes, and you can fuck right off,” Reese said back with a shoulder bump, attempting to let her off the hook.
“There’s the Reese I know.” The two of them shared a smile hung on years of shared experience.
They’d always vibed in the midst of friendly competition that simmered underneath. That was just part of racing. Everyone wanted to win, and that meant taking down the driver in front of you, even if you liked them. Yep, it would be fun to race Delaney again. She was quick and feisty behind the wheel, and the two of them had been known to mix it up. One of their more notorious scuffles ended with Delaney tossing her helmet across the driver’s lounge and calling Reese a reckless and selfish dick. They’d made up two hours later over a beer and girl-watching on the Las Vegas strip.
Delaney lifted her chin, which meant they were shifting into shop talk. “Ready for this weekend?”
“Hell, yeah. It’s been a minute since I drove under a checkered flag. Feeling a bit of withdrawal from high-adrenaline curves and fighting with assholes like you on the straights.”
“As long as you get out of my way.”
Reese tilted her head. “Or you could get out of mine. Just an idea.”
“Careful, Reese. If you’re seeing my front wing, it means you’re already in trouble.”
“Good. I like starting the weekend in trouble.”
Delaney laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained, drawing a glance from a man in a thousand-dollar suit. Reese felt herself relax, reminded that even though the league was new, the heart of it all was still racing. This was her element—and she was among her friends. They were built the same, and there was something comforting in that.
“It’s more than good to see you, Delaney.”
“Right? Can we hang out later? I can introduce you to some of the others.”
“I’d love that.”
At that point, the room seemed to quiet, which prompted them both to turn. “If I could have everyone’s attention, I’d like to say a few words.” Veronica Vance, in a gorgeous, dignified blue cocktail dress, stood before a podium and a microphone.
“First of all, thank you for being here on such a special occasion. Tonight, we celebrate more than just the start of Formula Next’s first-ever season—we celebrate the village it takes to be here. Each of you, drivers and team members alike, represents the future of this sport. You’ve pushed through late nights in the garage, early mornings on the track, and countless moments where most people would’ve quit. But you didn’t.”
Reese swallowed, nodding along with Veronica’s words because they rang true.
“This league is about more than racing. It’s about proving what happens when talent, discipline, and opportunity collide. It’s about showing the world that speed, skill, and determination aren’t limited by where you come from, what you look like, or who you are.” She was a powerful speaker, making eye contact with each person in the audience one at a time rather than addressing the group. “And yes, it’s about proving that women belong here—not as exceptions, not as novelties, but as drivers, engineers, and leaders who raise the standard for everyone. When you put on that helmet, when you step out on that track,you are carrying not just your own dreams, but the dreams of every young person who watches you and thinks,maybe that could be me one day.That’s powerful. Every lap you take sends a message that the next generation of girls doesn’t have to ask if there’s a place for them in motorsport—they’ll know there is.”
Reese stood taller, already feeling inspired by the message, and realizing that maybe there was a larger calling here she hadn’t fully examined. Veronica’s words resonated.
“So, race hard. Race fair. Race with everything you have. Make this season unforgettable—for yourselves, for your teams, and for the future of motorsport. Now let’s raise a glass to a season that will test us, transform us, and remind us why we fell in love with racing in the first place.”
The servers were quickly handing out glasses for the toast, and Reese raised hers along with the rest of the room. She and Delaney touched their glasses and locked eyes, the importance of the message having changed the temperature in the room. This wasn’t just about them. It wasn’t just about the wins, the podiums, or even the thrill of speed. It was about every girl who dreamed of the track and might be watching them now, imagining themselves behind the wheel. The responsibility hit her fully for the first time: their season, their choices, could shape what came next. Racing had always been a passion, but tonight, it felt like purpose. And all the more reason to earn her way to the top, and that meant Formula 1. At any cost.
“She has a way of convincing me of literally anything,” Delaney said, turning to Reese. “She could probably get me to sign away my life’s savings.”
