“She was disoriented but talking earlier,” Sloane said, because someone had to say it first, and because she needed to hear herself say it out loud. “She’s alive. She’s stable. The fireproofing saved her.”
Cassidy’s mother nodded, tears spilling freely now, her hand flying to her mouth. Her father closed his eyes for a long moment, shoulders sagging before he straightened again, resolve settling in where shock had been.
“Thank you for staying with her,” he said, his voice rough. “It means more than you know.”
Sloane didn’t trust herself to answer; she nodded instead.
With the family there, the energy in the room shifted. There was nothing left for the team todo. No more updates to chase. No roles to play. Just waiting and, ultimately, leaving Cassidy with her family.
Veronica checked the time. “We should get everyone back to the hotel. Tomorrow’s going to be long.”
No one argued. They just looked tired. Wrung out. Sloane felt like she was about to fall over. Her limbs ached and her head throbbed.
Outside, the night air felt wrong, too cool, too normal, as if everything was okay when it wasn’t. Reese walked beside Sloane without speaking, their shoulders brushing occasionally. Sloane was aware of every step, every sound, her body still braced like something else was coming.
The cars arrived, and there was a quiet, awkward shuffle—who was riding with whom, promises to text, to update, to meet in the morning. Sloane watched Reese hug Marissa and Delaney, murmuring reassurances she wasn’t sure she believed herself.
When Reese turned back to her, Sloane felt a sudden, irrational spike of panic, which Reese was quick to spot.
“Hey, I know today was hard for you in a different way than it was for us.” She touched Sloane’s cheek. “You were great in there.”
The answer lodged somewhere behind Sloane’s ribs, sharp and unmanageable. She nodded anyway. “Yeah. It was hard to hold it together. I’m also just … tired.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
As they pulled out of the hospital parking lot, the city lights streaking past, Sloane kept both hands locked on her knees, jaw tight, heart still racing like she hadn’t quite escaped the crash herself. The worst part—the part she couldn’t shake was the thought that kept circling back, uninvited and relentless:This could have been Reese.
And once that thought took hold, it didn’t matter how stable Cassidy was, or how good the doctor sounded, or how quiet the road was beneath them.
Something in Sloane had shifted tonight.
And it wasn’t going back.
The rest of the weekend in Austria was overcast and gray, the sky a fitting backdrop to the reality they were living. Reese went through the motions. Shaking hands, shooting Instagram promos with a practiced smile, running reaction drills just in case she was needed, answering reporter questions about the mood around the paddock, “given the crash and condition of Cassidy Simms.” They said her name as if it belonged to a stat line or a grid graphic, not the lovable, silly, huge-hearted woman Reese knew so well.
Cassidy’s parents did a remarkable job of keeping everyone updated, and the news, still cautious, was moving in the rightdirection. She’d been awake and responsive in short stretches, grumpy about the burns on her hands and already asking questions about the race she’d missed. The last part made Reese smile. The internal injuries were being monitored closely, and the doctors chose their words with precision. But each update carried a little more steadiness than the last. Late Saturday evening, her mother texted to say that if everything stayed on course, visitors would be allowed on Sunday. Reese read the message three times, her chest tightening with something wonderfully close to relief, and held onto the prospect as she moved through the weekend.
Sloane had been quieter than usual, which worried Reese. She reminded herself that Sloane had a soft spot for Cass and that everyone was processing what happened in their own way. While she wanted to give Sloane the space she needed, another part of her wanted to do everything in her power to make the world seem okay for Sloane again. To show Sloane that she was safe and loved.
Loved.Because she was that.
Okay, so Reese had yet to loop Sloane in on her feelings, but there would be plenty of time. It didn’t make it any less true. She had fallen hopelessly in love, and it felt so amazing she almost couldn’t believe she could be this blessed.
But she had her eye on Sloane this weekend. Even if she was more reserved, she still smiled every time their eyes met. Still reached for Reese’s hand whenever they stood close enough. At night, they talked in the darkened hotel room long past their bedtime and held each other as a reminder that neither of them had to carry the weight alone.
The morning of the Grand Prix had them both up early.
Reese was ready first and watched from the bathroom doorway as Sloane applied lip gloss in the mirror. She was stunning in these peaceful, everyday moments. Reese’s chestsqueezed pleasantly at how very much at home she felt. “Want to walk over together?” she asked quietly.
Sloane smiled, ran her fingers through her hair, and gave herself one last check in the mirror. “I would like nothing more than to walk with you,” she said, turning. “Maybe we could grab a smoothie at the breakfast counter.”
“Why do you always say such amazing things to me?”
“Because I know the way to your heart and it’s definitely through strawberries.”
“That’s how simple you think I am? Give me great sex, advice from a hot blond woman who knows racing, and a few strawberries, and I’m sold?”
“Yes,” Sloane said without considering the question.
