“No. I know so,” Reese said simply. “You’d be great at whatever you picked.”
Marissa didn’t speak right away. Instead, she took a long sip of her wine, staring straight ahead as though absorbing the idea piece by piece. The lobby was quiet except for the faint hum of an air conditioner and the muted chatter from the bar. It made the moment feel oddly suspended. Untouched.
Finally, she exhaled. “No one’s ever said that to me. Not like that.”
Reese blinked. “Said what?”
“That I could be great at something outside of what I’m expected to be.” Marissa gave a small, lopsided smile, more honest than any she’d worn today. “It’s nice.”
Reese’s chest tightened, something warm and protective blooming there. “Well, it’s true. And you deserve to hear the truth every now and then.”
Marissa laughed softly, but there was no embarrassment in it this time. It sounded more like relief. “You’re turning out to be a really good friend, you know that? Not gonna lie. It’s not what I expected of Reese Maddox.”
Well, this was interesting. “What did you expect?”
“No. It sounds awful.”
“Even more reason to just say it.” Reese sat back, smiling, and waited. It wasn’t the first time she’d been misjudged.
“I expected you to be surface-level. Very caught up in yourself and glued to a mirror.”
“God.”
“I know!” Marissa shook her head, mystified. “I was guessing you took all the media gigs and Instagram collabs because you were so into yourself and your image. I didn’t ever imagine it was because?—”
“I was trying to pay my way?”
“Exactly. Yes.” She winced. “I’m an embarrassed, entitled asshole.”
“I don’t fault you. I’m finding out that it’s a pretty common assumption.”
“From people who were brought up with too much of everything,” Marissa said. “Racing is a sport designed for rich people. Let’s be honest.”
“Maybe you’ll change that one day. Bring awareness in your capacity as a sports journalist.”
Marissa grinned. “Maybe I will. In the meantime, I don’t mind saying that I was dead wrong about you, Reese.” She swirled her wine and took a sip. “I’m glad I was wrong. I’m even more glad you’re my friend.”
The wordfriendhit Reese in a place she hadn’t realized was empty until now. She nodded. “Right back at you.”
For a while, they sat quietly, not needing to fill the space with chatter. Just two drivers in the late-night calm, letting the day settle. The moonlight spilled through the lobby windows, and the weight of earlier conversations lifted between them, replaced with something steadier. Trust, maybe? Or the beginning of it.
Marissa set her glass down gently. “Thanks for staying with me tonight.”
“Anytime,” Reese said. And she meant it.
The friendships she was forming with these women after just a few weeks were staggering. There was something special about the academy. Maybe it was the mission, maybe the shared grit of women carving out space in a world not built for them. Maybe it was the simple fact that they were all here, together, wanting the same impossible thing.
Whatever the reason, Reese knew with startling clarity that these friendships weren’t temporary. They were the kind that rewired you, that marked the before and after in your life. Thesefriendships were the beginning of something lasting. Something she’d carry with her long after the season ended.
CHAPTER 11
JUST DINNER
Sloane couldn’t believe she was doing this. Was she really going to do this? She picked up her hairbrush and then set it down again. Alarm bells sounded as she fluffed her hair in front of the mirror and watched the blond layers fall and mingle in a tousled result. Not bad. She surveyed herself in a red V-neck top, dark jeans, and two-inch black wedges. When she’d agreed to make good on her deal with Reese and go with her to some out-of-the-way restaurant, it was a day on the calendar in the future. But fast forward a week and a plane ride to Suzuka, and she was one cab away from a cozy dinner for just the two of them. Did that send a ripple through her midsection? Hell, yes. Did that make it a better idea? She sighed. The answer was a resounding no, but something in Sloane wouldn’t let her cancel. She’d picked up her phone to do just that several times. But she’d always put it back down again. Quite frankly, she was curious and more than a little intrigued. Regardless, it felt like she was pulling on a loose thread that might unravel the whole neatly woven sweater she’d come to rely on. “Maybe keep your hands off the thread,” she murmured as she grabbed her bag, the designer one her mother had sent her for Christmas the year before. She dared not look up how much it was worth.
When she arrived at the quaint little restaurant that was everything Reese promised, a small part of her relaxed. It was just a dinner. Why had she agonized about the meetup? Sloane fully believed she’d overreacted. Well, right up until she saw her.
Reese sat alone at a table by the window, the fading light pouring over her like it had been creatively designed for this exact moment. She wasn’t even doing anything remarkable. Just … watching the sunset. But somehow that made it worse, because Sloane suddenly understood what it meant for someone to be stunning without the slightest intention. She swallowed at the insistent tug.
