Julie sighed and seemed to press on, when they both knew she wanted to deliver one of her voice-of-reason lectures. At 36 and about 10 years older than Reese, Julie brought big-sister vibes and had earned Reese’s respect over the years. Instead of the lecture, Julie pointed at the laminated map on the table, which had red circles at two spots along the track. “Take a look at turns three and seven. Late brake here only if the fronts are in.” She paused. “And stop flirting with the media. Flirt with your apexes.”
“Yes, boss,” she said with an apologetic grin. She also flashed the big innocent eyes for good measure. They tended to make people forgive her.
“I’m glad one of us is smiling,” Julie said with her serious brow wrinkle. How did she manage the perfect cartoon furrow? Impressive. But as stressed as Julie seemed now, Reese knew she’d be the picture of calm once the race was underway. It was Julie’s gift.
Reese laughed. “It’s just that I’m so happy to see you and feel that it’s all going to come together for us today, Jules. Something in the air says so.”
“Splendid,” Julie said as sincerely as possible. “Can we get your head back in the car now? We’re short on time.” Reese moved to the map, prepared to do whatever Julie asked. While Reese believed fully that Julie would have made a fantastic driver, Julie had been born with a disability that left her with one leg shorter than the other and a pronounced limp. Unfortunately, the condition had prevented Julie from followingher driving dreams beyond youth sport. Instead, she’d moved from karting to crew to engineering for Raven, using her encyclopedic knowledge of motorsport to Reese’s advantage. They were casual friends, but only off the track. When at work, Julie took her job and wrangling Reese very seriously.
“We can definitely get to work,” Reese said, sobering because Julie was right. She should have been more on top of her race prep and would do a better job in the future. At the same time, Reese knew unequivocally that everything would be fine. She’d get out there and win, grab top points for Ravensport, spray some champagne on the podium, and attract the attention of the scouts that would open the door to Formula 1—end of story. Sign her up for world champion. Write the happily ever after now.
“Map then reaction drills,” Julie said.
“I’m ready. Let’s do the work.” They dove into the physical, mental, and teamwide warm-up to get everyone in shape for the hugely important race.
Two hours later, it was go time. Reese was primed. She rolled her shoulders and pressed one elbow to the sky and then the other, reveling in the pull of each muscle. The sun was sneaking behind the clouds, confirming the forecast for expected showers. Didn’t matter. There was nothing like a Sunday afternoon to bring home a visit to the podium. Formula 2 races were high-stakes, wheel-to-wheel battles with frequent overtakes. Scrappy, in the best sense, and it just so happened that Reese was made for it. She’d been scrapping since she was in kindergarten, when her dad dropped her in a go-kart for the first time.
“Did you go over your map?” Luke asked, matching her step as she walked to her car. Her older brother was her best friend and constant guardian angel when it came to racing. Ravensport had agreed to bring him on as the crew chief for their cars, which meant he made sure she was not only fast in the pit, but in the safest car possible.
“I did,” Reese said, helmet hanging at her side. “Late brakes on turns three and seven, and then I should be able to hold the inside through the straights.” She studied the sky once they arrived alongside her car. The cloud cover looked even more ominous than before. Reese grinned and blew out a breath. “No big deal, right? What’s Silverstone without a little rain?”
She looked up at the stands, which were only half full. The big crowds weren’t here yet, opting to arrive in time for the Grand Prix race later in the day. Formula 1 was, after all, the big show and the main draw. It was when the likes of Sebastian Keller and Luca Hayes would battle it out for the checkered flag finish. The fans who had arrived that morning with their coffee and croissants for the F2 race were the diehards who wanted to soak up every second of race day, and many of them just so happened to be Reese Maddox fans. Her Instagram following proved as much. She’d settle for being one of the most popular drivers on the circuit, if not world champion. That is, for now.
She checked the clock and gave Luke a final nod, their tradition. As crew chief, he would oversee the pit crew and garage, ensuring both cars were in optimal condition. Reese believed fully in Luke and trusted him with her life, quite literally.
She slid on her balaclava, making sure none of her long dark hair escaped. Her earpiece went in snug. She knelt next to the car just as Julie’s voice arrived in her ear.
“Radio check.”
“Radio’s good,” Reese said back.
Julie would be Reese’s eyes and voice of reason for the duration of the race, having all the data that Reese didn’t. She trusted Julie, who’d learned over the years how to inspire Reese, how to calm her down, and how to call her on her bullshit whenever she needed to be. “You’re good to go, Reese,” she said.
“All right. Let’s bring home a win.”
“No one wants that more than I do.”
Reese grinned, slid into the car, and let the team harness her tight. “Except me.” She would make turn three her bitch if it killed her. Luke handed her the steering wheel, which she clicked into place.
The moment the signal went green, Reese eased out of the garage, the car rumbling low and alive beneath her. Out past the pit exit, the track opened up before her. Reese exhaled slowly, taking a moment to absorb the sheer history in front of her while her heart thudded with anticipation. The moments before a race never got old because this was holy ground.
She gave the engine more throttle, feeling the car respond, abrupt and hungry. She was off and picking up speed. This was the reconnaissance lap, to warm up the car and ensure all systems were operational, but it never felt casual. She pushed the car harder on the straightaway, orienting herself to its feel and ensuring it was in prime condition.
“How are my tire temps?”
“Fronts are great,” Julie said. “The backs could use a little heat. Watch your grip. It’ll be a slippery one in about fifteen minutes when the rain hits.”
“Got it,” Reese said, from inside her helmet.
“Everything looks good,” Julie said in her ear. “Systems are all working and tip-top. Car is slowly warming up.”
“Copy,” Reese said, making her way to the grid box and the third position starting point. Her crew swarmed the car for final prep, checking the front wings, tires, sensors, and giving her hydration system a final once-over.
“It’s a big one,” Luke told her, leaning down to the car. “Stay steady and listen to Julie.”
“Don’t I always?” she asked.
“No,” he said with wide green eyes. The shade that closely matched her own had been handed down from their father,whom she missed much more acutely on race days. He’d have been like a kid in a candy store watching her climb into this caliber of car. Her mom would be watching from home in Missouri, too nervous to sit still in the stands when it was her baby flying by at 200 mph. Reese didn’t blame her, after all their family had been through. Despite the anxiety race day brought on, her mother supported and loved Reese and Luke through every second of the season, checking in with them multiple times a day and screaming from her couch.
