“Morning.” Sloane took it, fingers brushing Reese’s in a small, familiar touch that made Reese smile. “I can make this deal.” She snuggled further into the shirt as if it was her favorite.
For a while, they stood there without saying much, watching the city slowly wake up. The street below was still quiet, except for a singular delivery truck rumbling on its way somewhere. Nearby, the smell of bacon and eggs from the café on the corner wafted over.
Reese exhaled, stretching her shoulders. “Hard to believe yesterday was real.”
“You mean the part where you carved through the field like it was a Sunday drive?” Sloane asked lightly.
Reese laughed. “That’s not how it felt in the car.”
Sloane glanced at her. “It looked exactly how it was supposed to.”
Reese leaned her hip against the railing beside her. The quiet between them had always felt so easy, like they’d been together their whole lives. Reese adored that part of them. They just fit.
“You heading back to California after this?” Reese asked.
Sloane nodded slowly. “Yeah. A few remote meetings. Some work to catch up on.” She took a sip of coffee, then looked out toward the water again. “Venice Beach is going to feel very quiet after this weekend.”
“Because I’m so chatty?” Reese tilted her head in a playfully exaggerated display.
“Well, you are that. But I happen to love it.”
Reese huffed a small laugh, reflecting. “Quiet sounds pretty good right now, if we’re being honest.”
“Baby. You need to unwind on your days off. Really take advantage so you can come back renewed and refocused.”
“I need to do a better job of that.”
Sloane was quiet for a moment.
“You know,” she said eventually, “drivers always need a solid home base.”
“Yeah,” Reese said. “Somewhere to leave your stuff for three days before the next airport.”
“Somewhere warm and comfortable that feels like a true home.” Sloane glanced at her. “You’ve basically been living out of a suitcase for years.”
“Yeah. Part of the job.”
“Maybe,” Sloane said. “But it doesn’t have to be the only way.”
“Okay.” Reese tilted her head. “What are you getting at?”
Sloane shifted so she was facing her fully now, one elbow resting on the railing.
“You could use Venice Beach as your base,” she said. “Between races.”
Reese blinked.
“Come back with me when you’re not on the road,” Sloane continued, voice steady but warm. “Leave your gear there. Your clothes. Whatever you want.”
Reese studied her for a second, the meaning settling slowly. Wonderfully.
“You realize,” Reese said, carefully, “that sounds a lot like you’re asking me to move in.”
Sloane’s mouth curved. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I guess it does.”
Reese let out a soft breath, glancing out toward the distant line of the sea. For so long, her life had been airports, hotel rooms, and temporary addresses that never really belonged to her.
But the thought of Venice, of sunlight on the Pacific, of Sloane waiting there, felt different. It felt like something solid.
