THE DEEP END
There was something profoundly grounding about stepping off a plane and into the orbit of people who knew you before the headlines did. Florida greeted Reese with thick heat and salt air, but it was the familiarity waiting beyond baggage claim that steadied her pulse.
She saw Cassidy’s blond hair first. Marissa was standing beside her holding a sign that said, “F1 Babes Only.” Delaney was pointing to it like a bouncer at a nightclub.
“You did not,” Reese said, swallowing back a laugh.
“Oh, we did,” Cassidy said, opening her arms for Reese, who gave her the biggest, but also the gentlest, hug she could manifest. “The Grid’s all here!”
“How are the hands?”
“So much better. No more bandages. Full recovery on the way. I’m told as long as I stick with my OT, I should be back next season.”
“Seriously? I will be screaming my face off for you, Cass.”
Marissa was next in line for a hug. Reese wrapped her arms around her friend, and they rocked back and forth to exaggerated extremes. “Do F1 drivers fly first class?”
“Not when it’s on their own dime,” Reese said, releasing her. “I saw that overtake on Turn 7 last week. That was sick.”
“Thank you. My academy mentor helped me with a few new tricks.”
“The really hot one?” Reese asked with a wink.
Marissa frowned. “Yeah, but I hear she’s all girlfriended up.”
“Damn right she is.”
Delaney waited for her turn patiently, but didn’t hold back on her hug when it came. “There’s my teammate.”
“Hey, buddy. Have you scouted all the best spots in Fort Lauderdale?”
“No, because I’m not sure I want to be far from the couch or the pool.”
“That’s actually logic I can get behind.” The few days they were stealing between races were much-needed rest and decompression time, and if all they did was sit in Cassidy’s parents’ guesthouse and watch movies, mainline all varieties of Pop-Tarts, and catch up on each other’s little details, it would be a welcome getaway.
They’d chosen Cassidy’s neck of the woods since she was still in recovery, but happily accepted the bonus of sun-bleached docks, slow afternoons, and nice, easy weather. They hadn’t all been in the same place since the hospital in Europe, when everything had been heavy and uncertain. Seeing Cassidy in person, upright and healing, felt like closing a loop on something Reese would rather not remember. With Formula 1 looming, contracts signed, expectations towering, this pocket of time felt less like a vacation and more like a salve. True friends had a way of stripping the noise away, of reminding her who she was beneath the fire suit and the scrutiny. And for the first time in weeks, Reese let herself exhale.
“Let’s get out of here,” Cassidy said. “We’ve spent enough time in airports this year.”
Later that afternoon, when the sun shone down, the pool became the center of gravity. Mai tais sweated on the edge, their citrus bite much needed and perfect, while Cassidy drifted lazily on a ridiculous dinosaur floaty, sunglasses tipped just so, issuing commentary like a benevolent queen in recovery. Marissa owned her va-va-voom bikini with zero apology, all confidence and laughter, while Reese’s bikini cut a clean, sleek line in black. She leaned her head back, hair touching the water, feeling lighter than she had in months. Delaney lounged nearby in ultracool shades, feet in the water, offering dry observations that landed expertly every time. They caught each other up on life, talked about everything important and not, letting the day stretch long and loose, just friends, warmth, and the quiet luxury of nowhere else to be.
“Did I hear you correctly that Sloane was with you when you got the offer?” Marissa asked.
Reese nodded. “Yeah, that part was really cool.” A pause. “At least, for me.”
“Her, too, I’m sure,” Cassidy said.
Instinctually, Reese checked her phone to see if Sloane had responded to her last check-in text. She had not. She’d tried not to let that bother her. Sloane was probably juggling client calls and a busy afternoon. That’s what she told herself anyway. She’d been quieter since their meeting with Shanelle. There was no denying that, and Reese knew why. She just wasn’t sure how to reconcile her new job with what Sloane needed to feel secure.
“I think she wants F1 for me, but not her.”
Delaney frowned. “What do you mean?”
Reese went on to explain how Sloane’s accident had shaped the way she handled risk in her life. She talked about the fear that never fully loosened its grip once it got its hands on you. How Sloane never saiddon’t go, but it was there all the same.
The pool had gone quieter, the soft lap of water against tile suddenly louder.
Cassidy let her dinosaur drift closer, resting her forearms on the edge. “That kind of fear sticks,” she said. “Once you’ve been on the wrong side of luck, it’s hard not to see it everywhere.” Reese understood that Cassidy was speaking from experience.
