Formula 1 didn’t breathe the way the academy did. There were no feel-good exchanges or pauses where adrenaline ebbed. Everything here moved with intent. Even stillness felt deliberate.
Reese stayed behind the line, headset snug over her ears, absorbing the rhythm. Voices layered over one another discussing strategy, tire temps, and when to overtake—all spoken in shorthand so efficient it felt almost private. In F2 or F3, she’d understood every word instantly. Here, she caught most of it, enough to know how much more there was to learn.
And no one slowed down for her. That, more than anything, was the difference.
She wasn’t the story or the focus here. Conversations skimmed past her on their way to bigger moments. No one cared if she looked composed or rattled. They cared about the day’s results.
By the time the checkered flag waved, the garage nodded along with the midfield results. Ezra had finished late in the points, and Marco had finished P21, scoring none for the team. There was a meeting here, a quiet word there about what could have been executed better, and already the focus had turned forward. Data to review. Decisions to make. Another race always waiting.
Reese pulled off her headset slowly, still in a bit of a daze. This is what these folks did week after week.
Around her, Formula 1 continued on without pause, vast and unbothered by her presence. And somehow, that made her chest ache in the best possible way.
She wasn’t visiting this world. She wasn’t borrowing it.
Standing there, surrounded by noise and purpose and history, Reese Maddox realized something that hit softly but resonated.
This was her life now. And, damn, if she wasn’t ready to get behind the wheel and earn her place.
CHAPTER 19
WINE, CHEESE, AND MONZA
Sloane sat in the small room that had been converted into her office inside the academy’s mobile suite, decompressing from the chaotic weekend where more had happened than she’d ever imagined possible. She’d arrived in Italy as one version of herself and would be leaving feeling entirely altered by so many unforeseen events. Monza had a way of accelerating everything: speed on the track, speed in decision-making, speed in life changes, and there was nothing to do but roll with each new development. She was proud of herself for not reaching for control, but instead bracing herself for whatever came next.
“It couldn’t have come at a better time,” Veronica said, breezing into the room in black yoga pants, designer tennis shoes, and a Formula Next tee. She handed Sloane a bourbon on the rocks to cap off what had been a whirlwind of a Sunday. It had somehow morphed into their once-a-week tradition. From tennis balls to hard liquor in the office. They’d come a long way.
“What couldn’t have?” Sloane asked, swirling the stormy liquid, as if she were a workaholic from the 1960s.
“Well, I only talk in headlines.”
Sloane laughed. “Obviously. You’re Veronica Fucking Vance. I take it we’re talking about Laurens pulling Reese?”
“See? You’re with me. And it’s not just great for Reese’s career and the academy’s legitimacy, but for you.”
“Why? Because now I don’t have to go out of my way to make sure there’s no bias in how I work with the drivers?”
Veronica touched her glass to Sloane’s. “Exactly. You get to have your Reese and eat?—”
“I’m going to pause you right there.”
Veronica laughed, carefree and melodious. “Live it up, Sloane. Enjoy every minute of this dalliance. You deserve the fun more than anyone else I know.”
“Fun.” Sloane stared at her glass, examining the word.
Veronica watched her, thoughtful. “Unless it’s more than that. I shouldn’t presume.”
The truth was that Sloane’s feelings for Reese were growing much faster than she was prepared for. They were scary, jumbled, wonderful, and somehow had a mind of their own. Sloane felt like she’d boarded the most exhilarating roller coaster and just wished someone would hand her a map of the twists and drops. Even now, she was checking the clock, wondering when she might hear how Reese’s day had gone with Laurens, her heart squeezing with hope that it had been a good one. She wasn’t at all used to this feeling of her happiness tethered to another person’s.
She exhaled slowly, prepared to be forthright. “It might be more than that.”
“Yeah,” Veronica said quietly. “I’m picking up on that now.”
Sloane took that first startling sip, and the liquid burned a trail down her throat and made her lips buzz. But she’d earned it. Their day had been killer, packed with a team principal meeting, a round of press, a quick check-in with each duo of drivers, and, of course, the race and podium celebration, where Delaney Rhodes had risen to the occasion, leading her team to a P1 finish like a damn pro. Sloane liked seeing the wealth shared and adriver like Delaney finally get her moment to shine. It was good for all of them.
“I missed her today at the academy. I kept expecting her to come around the corner, and then when she didn’t, my chest tugged a little bit, and I wondered if her day was a good one.”
“Oh, I’m enjoying this very much,” Veronica said, tapping her bottom lip with her finger. “You should see the faraway look you just got in your eyes when you talk about her, like the sexiest scene in the movie just came on.”
