The smoothie counter was tucked into the corner, half-hidden behind a column wrapped in sponsor decals. Reese stepped into line, eyes already scanning her mental checklist.
Strawberry. Always strawberry on race mornings. Predictable. Familiar. One thing she didn’t have to think about.
“Hey,” a voice said softly.
Everything in her body stilled.
It was ridiculous how quickly she knew. Not just the sound of it, but the way it landed—like it belonged to her.
Reese turned.
Sloane stood there, hair pulled back, academy jacket unzipped, a smoothie cup already in her hand. Strawberry pink, unmistakable even through the clear lid. She was smiling, not carefully or cautiously, but the way she did when she’d been counting the minutes to see Reese again.
For a second, Reese forgot where she was. Forgot sixteenth. Forgot Barcelona. Forgot the careful walls she’d built around her heart for three weeks.
She didn’t think. She just moved.
Reese stepped forward and reached for Sloane, one hand sliding around her waist, the other coming up to her shoulder, pulling her in. It was instinct. Muscle memory laced with relief.
Sloane came easily, like she’d been waiting for permission and now had it. The smoothie was set down on the counter without a second thought as Sloane wrapped her arms around Reese’s back, holding her close. Reese caught the faint scent of Sloane’s citrus shampoo and the last of the tension in her chest finally loosened. If there was ever a metaphor for home, Reese had found it in this moment.
“There you are,” Sloane murmured, lips brushing Reese’s temple.
“Hi,” Reese said, her voice smiling into the word.
They stayed like that longer than was strictly professional, but neither of them rushed it. The paddock would get over it. Sloane’s hand slid up and down Reese’s back once, grounding her and reminding her she wasn’t alone.
When they finally pulled back, Reese kept her hands where they were, thumbs brushing lightly against Sloane’s sides like she needed the contact to stay upright.
Sloane picked up the smoothie and pressed the cup into Reese’s hands. “Strawberry. Race morning. I know the rules.”
Reese laughed, bright and surprised by how freely it came. Her chest felt lighter, like something tight had finally unclenched.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Sloane’s expression softened. “Same. A lot.”
Reese took a sip, the cold sweetness hitting her tongue, familiar and comforting. She closed her eyes for half a second, then opened them again, feeling for the first time in a while that she was on solid ground.
“I qualified sixteenth,” she said, matter-of-fact.
“I know,” Sloane said. “That doesn’t change anything.” They stepped out of the way of people entering the smoothie line and found their own spot along the wall.
Reese searched her face. “Doesn’t it?”
“No,” Sloane said firmly. “It means you have an uphill battle and you’ll have to work if you want to get into the points and P10. Which you’re very good at.” She brushed her thumb along Reese’s jaw, quick and subtle but intimate all the same. “And it means I get to watch you fight forward.”
Reese’s heart lifted, buoyant, soaring in her chest. This—this—was what she’d been missing.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Reese said.
“I’m not,” Sloane promised. “I’ll be right here. When you get back.”
Reese nodded, gripping the smoothie like a talisman, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Sloane’s lips. It was soft, sure, and full of all the things they didn’t need to say out loud.
When she stepped away, she felt different, like she was ready to take on twenty-one other drivers, knowing that at the end of the day, something even more important was waiting for her. They hadn’t had a conversation yet, but Sloane’s presence alone, her entirely open demeanor, communicated a lot.
Sixteenth no longer felt like a sentence, but a problem to solve.
