Delaney scrolled once. Then again.
“Oh,” she said.
Cassidy straightened. “That’s never good. The singular oh.”
Marissa sat up fully. “What happened?”
“Tyler Lock.” Delaney looked up, eyes moving between them.
Reese’s stomach dipped. He was an F1 driver. “What about him?”
“It says he flipped his car during a practice session. A concussion and a broken right foot. Surgery is expected,” Delaney said.
Reese swore under her breath. Tyler Lock didn’t make mistakes. Tyler Lock didn’t get hurt. He was the kind of midfield driver who felt invincible. Laurens Racing had depended on him for years.
Cassidy’s phone chimed. She stared at it for a beat longer than necessary. “And there it is. He’s out.”
Marissa sucked in a breath. “Outout?”
“For the season,” Cassidy said, scrolling. “Laurens just made the official announcement.”
The ceiling fan clicked.
Reese felt heat rush through her chest, sharp and sudden. “That means?—”
“They’re putting the reserve driver in,” Cassidy said, eyes lifting to Reese now. “Yep. Right here. Marco Faz is taking over the seat effective immediately.”
Delaney’s phone buzzed again, like it couldn’t stand the silence. “Which means,” she said carefully, “there’s now a reserve driver spot open.”
No one spoke.
“Reese. You’re bound to be a conversation people are having,” Marissa said. She exchanged a look with Delaney, who nodded in agreement.
“You’re at leaston the short list,” Delaney said. “Especially, if they’ve had their eye on the standings and your steady climb.”
“You could be the first woman in F1 in … years,” Marissa said.
Reese pressed her hands together, grounding herself. “I don’t want it like this.”
“I know,” Delaney said gently.
“But,” Marissa offered, because she always was the one to say it, “it’s still a door.”
Cassidy studied Reese, a slow smile tugging at her mouth. “And you’re very hard to ignore when doors open.”
Reese slid onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I’m afraid even to consider the possibility.” But she had to. It was her job to move herself forward in her career, and Marissa was right. You don’t shy away from opportunity, no matter how unfortunate. Reserve drivers didn’t see theaction and were mainly relegated to public appearances, team marketing, and fan photo ops. All things she could handle. But it would get her behind the wheel of an F1 car for practice sessions, an absolutely invaluable shot she didn’t have anywhere else. Those cars were monsters and miracles all at once, all carbon fiber and fury. They were faster than anything she’d ever driven, more sensitive, more demanding. Blink wrong, and they’d bite you. Get it right, though, and they took off singing.
Reese rolled onto her side, letting herself go there for a moment and imagining herself behind that wheel. “I don’t want to be excited,” she said quietly.
Cassidy bumped her knee with Reese’s. “Too late.”
Delaney sat on the side of the bed now, elbows on her knees, grounded and secure in a way that always made Reese feel less like she might float off into panic. “No one’s saying this is happening tomorrow,” she said. “But if your name comes up, you’re mentally ready.”
Marissa nodded. “You didn’t claw your way up the standings for nothing.”
She shifted on the couch, and without comment, Cassidy’s arm came up, loose and easy, settling behind Reese’s shoulders like it had always belonged there.
“You wouldn’t be alone,” Delaney said. It wasn’t a pep talk. It was a fact.
