Reese pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Sloane let her eyes drift closed, the rhythm of Reese’s heartbeat lulling her like a slow tide. Reese’s hand kept moving in those gentle circles, steady and sure, until Sloane’s thoughts softened at the edges, blurring into the simple safety of being held.
The last thing she registered was Reese’s quiet exhale, almost a sigh of relief, and the way her arms tightened just a fraction, as if she, too, was finally allowing herself to believe this was real.
Then sleep took them both, wrapped together in the dark, exactly where they were meant to be.
CHAPTER 15
THE COST TO LOSE
The red light on the camera blinked on.
Reese shifted in her chair, rolling her shoulders once, twice, settling the way she’d been taught—relaxed, but not careless. The backdrop was neutral, deliberately so. Nothing to distract from her face, her hands, the way she occupied space.
Samara sat just off to the side of the lens, tablet balanced on her knee, voice calm and conversational in the way that suggested this was not her first time asking a question that could change someone’s life.
“So,” Samara said, a small smile curving her mouth, “you’ve probably heard the rumors by now.”
Reese’s lips twitched. “Depends which ones.”
Samara laughed softly, the sound meant to disarm. “Fair. But there’s been a lot of chatter lately about Formula 1 paying close attention to the academy. Specifically, to the drivers’ standings as they make decisions for next season.” She glanced briefly at her tablet. “And right now, you and Danielle Todd are essentially neck and neck at the top.”
Reese didn’t react right away. She tipped her head, eyes flicking toward the camera lens—not into it, but close enough to acknowledge its presence. The machine. The audience.
“Danielle’s a hell of a driver,” Reese said, immediate and unforced. “She’s consistently fast. Smart. And a risk taker. You don’t get to the top by accident.”
“You two don’t like each other. That’s pretty well-documented. Can you speak on that relationship?”
Reese laughed to ease any tension and searched for a way to remain diplomatic without dodging the question entirely. “We have different styles both on the circuit and in how we deal with people. That part is true.” She was trying to be careful while still giving them enough to make their narrative accurate and interesting. “Do I have notes for Danielle?” She blew out a breath that said she didn’t even know where to begin. “Sure, but she has them for me as well. Bottom line, she’s quick out there, and I’m sure that makes me quicker.”
Samara nodded, encouraging. “Does that kind of rivalry sharpen things? Knowing that if Formula 1iswatching, every tenth of a second counts?”
Reese leaned back slightly, confidence easing into her posture. “It does,” she said. “But not in the way people like to frame it. It’s not about beating Danielle. It’s about not giving anything away. To anyone.” She shrugged, easy again. “If people are watching, it means what we’re doing here matters. But rumors are just noise unless you’re backing them up on the track. And standings?” A quick smile. “They don’t lie. Not for long, anyway.”
“Good points.” Samara consulted her notes. “Can you share a little bit about what silly season is and what it means to drivers?”
Reese nodded and raised a brow. “Silly season is definitely upon us right now. It’s the point in the season through summer when contracts are expiring, negotiations are happening behind the scenes, drivers are jockeying for any open seats, and the press speculates wildly. It’s basically a game of musical chairs for drivers.”
Samara studied her for a beat. “So, as we sit here in silly season, you’re not thinking about what a call-up might mean?”
Reese’s smile returned, bright, practiced. “I’m thinking about the next race.”
Samara had been right. Everyone from the higher-ups at the academy, all the way down to the entry-level mechanics, had heard the rumor. The one that said the team principals had been having closed-door meetings about the future of their teams, and that the names of academy drivers had been in the mix. No one knew if it was true. But everyone at the academy level was extra excited and working to prove themselves every time they slid behind the wheel.
From the top of the standings, Reese felt like she had a lot to lose. But she also knew one thing for sure: if the F1 teams were watching, she was going to put on a show. The first race in Monza had been a close one, but Reese had edged out Marissa for the win by 0.4 seconds, with Danielle falling down the order after a penalty for forcing another driver off track, her overly aggressive defense drawing the stewards’ attention. Word around the paddock was that she’d lost it on her team, thrown her helmet, and blamed everyone she laid eyes on for the loss. Except herself. Danielle would be out for blood during the feature race, which meant Reese needed to be more alert behind the wheel than ever. She’d just increased her lead in the drivers’ standings, and Danielle wasn’t going to like that one bit.
Then there was Sloane.
Reese had spent years convincing herself that wanting someone, really wanting them, might be a liability. That it would cost her focus, dull her edge. But as she crossed the paddock,she realized the opposite had happened. What she felt for Sloane hadn’t taken anything from her. It had clarified things. Made the noise quieter and the stakes cleaner. She was driving with nothing to prove and everything to protect. Her heart squeezed, and she let herself enjoy it.
“Enjoy it,” she heard from a distinct English accent behind her when she walked from the podium back to the Ravensport garage. She turned around and met Danielle’s fiery hazel eyes, arms crossed as she stared at Reese. “It’s only temporary.”
“Isn’t everything?” Reese asked, shrugging and smiling. She wasn’t the type to engage and knew very well how many eyes were on them right now.
“Flash-in-the-pan bitch,” Danielle said as she walked toward her team’s garage, probably too loudly on purpose.
Reese whirled around, shocked but not.
