Engines began to growl to life around them, the sound rippling through the paddock. Mechanics moved in close, finalchecks happening almost wordlessly now. Samara lowered her mic slightly, though the camera kept rolling.
“Good luck out there, Reese.”
Reese slipped the helmet under her arm and flashed a quick grin. “Thanks. Let’s see if I can actually level up.”
“Who’s behind me?” Reese asked Julie over the radio. Her pulse thudded in her ears, matching the engine’s roar. Adrenaline pumping, Reese was in the zone, dialed in, and flying. She had less than three laps to hold her position and bank some points for herself and her team, and she’d be damned if she let another driver overtake her at the last minute. This was her first feature race for Formula Next, and she wanted that podium so badly it ached.
“You have Danielle behind at 0.8 seconds. She’s quicker. Be careful.” Julie was advising her to defend, and she would. “Push, push, push.”
“Copy that,” Reese said, gripping the wheel tighter. Sweat beaded at her temple beneath the helmet. Her eyes flicked to the rearview. Danielle Todd was a go-getter from England—a bold, aggressive driver. A lot of folks had their eyes on her as an up-and-comer, but she was prickly at best. Her tactics behind the wheel were also questionable, if you asked Reese. Right now, she was inching closer, just enough to make Reese’s pulse pound harder.
Up ahead, Marissa was pulling away, smooth and confident, completely unaware of Reese’s battle behind her.
Reese’s instincts screamed at her to go for the overtake, to stay on her tail and then surge past Marissa for the glory. Her foot twitched on the throttle. Just one move, one perfect corner,and she could do it. But Sloane’s voice reminded her of the bigger picture.Points matter.A reckless move could result in zero and damage to the car. She took a deep breath and focused on the line, forcing her shoulders to loosen, her vision to narrow to the asphalt ribbon ahead. She brushed away the urge to dart for the inside on the next corner.
Danielle tried a move into Turn 7, but Reese anticipated it, defending her line without overcommitting. The tires squealed, and smoke curled as she braked later than Danielle expected. “Fuck no. Not today,” she muttered, a grin tugging at her lips.
The final lap stretched out like a test of endurance. Each straightaway, each chicane, Reese balanced aggression with caution, blocking Danielle while resisting the temptation to chase Marissa. Every nerve in her body screamed for release, for risk, but she held steady, the car an extension of her will. The checkered flag waved in the distance, and Reese crossed the line in third, heart pounding, grin spreading wider.
“That’s P3, Reese,” Julie said. “Nice race.”
She’d held her ground. P3 wasn’t the win, but it was smart, strategic, and just as satisfying in a different way. She’d made the podium and was damn proud of herself. She’d earned it.
Because she never celebrated without Luke, Reese brought him up on FaceTime as she walked back to the garage.
“Who in the world was that?” he asked immediately upon answering
“I’m trying a few new tricks,” she said, unable to hold back her grin. “Not bad, right?”
“That was methodical, Reese, and exactly the kind of drive that’s gonna take you to F1.”
“You don’t think I should have gone for the overtake at the end?”
“I didn’t see a safe opportunity. Did you?”
“Sometimes you’ve got to create your own.”
“That’s how you spin out and damage the car for folks like me to piece back together again. Trust me. This was better.”
“Fine,” she said with the extra sarcasm she reserved for him. “Love you. Miss you. Hey, did Mom watch?”
“Through her fingers as she walked through the room every ten minutes.”
Reese nodded. “It’s her process. Gotta run. Podium soon.”
“You earned it.”
When she passed Sloane in the paddock later, she made a point to make eye contact. She’d taken her advice and had a better race for it. She couldn’t help but wonder if Sloane had noticed her more conservative driving style the way Luke had.
“Was it hard?” Sloane asked with a smile. That smile. God. It was unfair, really—slow-building, genuine, the kind that made Reese feel like the only one standing there.
Reese went immediately warm. “Fucking Mount Everest. I wanted to attack.”
“Of course you did,” she said, meeting Reese’s gaze. “And one day you will. All about picking your moments.”
“You coming to the podium ceremony, or do you prefer to pretend like you don’t have a favorite?” She was on a high, and that made it hard not to casually flirt with a woman she found dangerously irresistible.
Sloane’s mouth curved, slow and knowing. “Oh, I’ll be there. My favorite earned it.” She looked behind Reese. “Where is Marissa anyway? I need to congratulate her.”
