She cut the thought off so abruptly she nearly felt the whiplash.
Sloane cleared her throat, gaze darting briefly toward the garage as if a distraction might magically appear. “Look, Reese … it’s probably not the best idea now that I think about it. The season’s long.”
“And eyes are on you. On both of us. I get that.” But she didn’t pull her gaze away. “Let’s keep it simple. Dinner next week. There’s a little place just outside of Suzuka. Wooden tables. Handwritten menus. No one we know would possiblyshow up. I’d love to hear about your racing days. That’s it. That’s all.”
Sloane nodded, and a smile crept in. It honestly sounded kind of nice. Time with Reese didn’t have to be scary or carry greater implications. It also didn’t have to mean anything beyond two people with a shared interest having dinner. Sloane was a grown woman, and there were no laws against getting to know one of the drivers. Even the attractive ones. She’d passed Veronica having coffee with Danielle Todd at a café that morning. Networking was a real and vital part of the women’s experience in this male-dominated sport. They needed each other as allies.
She turned to Reese. “Next week in Suzuka it is. Let’s do it.”
Reese offered that same smile that sold a million sports drinks. It was worthy of every damn one. “Now I have something to look forward to.”
“How about focusing on the race tomorrow first?”
“It’s like you are programmed to keep me focused.”
Sloane laughed. “Someone has to be.”
She walked on, aware that she’d just agreed to something that could change her entire season if she wasn’t careful. The Singapore night pressed in around her, loud and electric, and Sloane realized that the heat wasn’t fading anytime soon.
Reese had waited a long time for a win that felt this right, and she took the time to truly savor the victory. Winning was everything. It felt like alignment, talent, patience, and belief finally pulling in the same direction.
But her brother hadn’t been there. That was Reese’s only regret about the win in Singapore. For years, her brother hadbeen a part of every high and low she’d experienced in her career—her hype man, her analyst, her reality check. And while the victory had been electric, part of her longed for the familiar grounding of family.
By the time she finally returned to the driver’s room and powered her phone back on, the screen lit up like a fireworks show. Missed calls. Voicemails. A string of texts from both Luke and her mom.
Mom
You never stop impressing me. I watched the last few laps because Luke told me I’d kick myself if I missed a win, and he was right. Hugs. Kisses. Love to you.
Reese pressed the phone to her chest, eyes falling shut for a beat as warmth pooled through her. The next message was pure Luke.
Luke
Fuckin’ killed it. I was worried on turn 5 but you flipped the whole thing around after the safety car. Raising a glass to my little sis tonight. Call soon.
It wasn’t an in-person hug. It wasn’t Luke yelling at her in the garage or Mom squeezing her so hard her ribs protested. But it helped. It was something. And given the time difference, they were probably brushing their teeth and falling into bed after staying up half the night to watch her. She’d call them in the morning, when she could string coherent sentences together.
The circuit around her was shifting into exhale. Crews packed up gear. Media stragglers hustled toward exits. Only Ravensport seemed immune to the slowdown—still celebrating,still loud, still claiming their corner of the paddock like they’d never leave it. She wandered anyway, letting the noise fade the farther she moved from the team’s hub, until she could just be a spectator again.
She slipped into the stands for F1 qualifying and found herself cheering alongside thousands of diehards who’d flocked to the circuit for the main attraction. The roar of engines vibrated through her, the lights strobed across the track, and she watched the drivers carve through the corners with a precision that felt almost mythical.
What must it be like to sit behind the wheel of one of those cars for the big show? To feel that speed, that pressure, that world watching? The longing clawed at her, powerful enough to steal her breath.
And, knowing that if anyone in Formula Next was getting the whisper of a call-up, it would be someone like Danielle Todd, lit a new fire in her gut. Not jealousy. Not quite. More like a challenge. A dare.
She wasn’t done yet. Not even close.
When she walked back to the paddock to grab her bag, most everyone had already cleared out. The lights were dimmer now, the air less electric—victory celebrations having tapered off one garage at a time. As she passed Vantera’s on the way back from Ravensport’s, a sharp exchange of voices cut through the quiet, making her pause.
One was Marissa’s.
The other—louder, angrier—was her father’s.
Dammit. That fucking guy always showed up on race days. He flew in just before lights out, made a bunch of demands, and disrupted Marissa’s flow like it was his personal hobby. Reese couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have an overbearing parent like Leo Giovani, while also having him be one of the team’s biggest investors. He was a VIP and acted like it.
“It’s still a podium,” she heard Marissa say, calm but tired.
“Don’t, for a moment, let yourself feel good about P3. You hear me?” Leo’s voice snapped like a whip. “P3 is last of the best. You want to be last? Not on this team. Not on my team.”
