Cassidy
Love you guys. Thanks for caring about me.
It got better from there. The news from the doctors was amazing. After another day or two in the hospital, Cassidy would be able to fly home to Florida to rest and heal. She was likely out for the season, but seemed to have no intention of letting this little setback stop her.
Cassidy
Miss you guys already. But I’ll be back. Guaranteed.
How are you feeling?
Cassidy
Hands are healing. Midsection is really tender. Docs say I’m grounded for a bit. Which means I’m appointing myself The Starting Grid race control.
Reese smiled. Of course she was.
The paddock was already thinning as Reese stepped back out, transporters closing up, crews shedding lanyards and fireproofs. Sunday always felt like this once the race was over—everyone exhausted, hollowed out, quietly forward-looking. Drivers scattered, crews packed up, and teams already shifted their focus to the next stop on the calendar. In this case, Zandvoort, Netherlands.
But for Reese, the day wasn’t done. In fact, the best part was still ahead.
As the reserve, she got a small window to practice in the Laurens car once the chaos cleared. A short session when the track belonged to whoever still had a reason to be there. It wasn’t glamorous, and it certainly wasn’t public, but it mattered. Laps were laps. Data was data. Seat time was absolutely priceless.
Her phone buzzed again.
Delaney
You got your Sunday laps today?
Yeah. Thirty minutes.
Delaney
Use every second.
Marissa
What I wouldn’t give to drive that car.
And it was a glorious car, too. She’d never driven anything like it. A short time later, Reese paused at the edge of the pit lane, watching a marshal wave a car through. The teams that stayed were the ones with something extra scheduled—test data to gather or rookies to keep sharp.
The Formula 1 car had felt different from the first moment Reese pulled onto the track. In karts, speed came from being aggressive. In rally, it was about reacting fast and trusting instinct. Even the other open-wheel cars she’d driven let her fight them a little. This one didn’t. It wanted calm. Smooth hands. Patience. There was enormous power beneath her, but it only showed itself when she stayed controlled. Reese realized quickly that driving this car wasn’t about going as hard as possible—it was about not making critical mistakes.
“Just keep it on the track,” Shanelle had told her. “The rest is all tweaking. We can’t tweak a drive once you’re in the wall.”
“Got it. Don’t bust up the multimillion-dollar car my first month on the job.”
Shanelle smiled and crossed her arms. “Now you’ve got it.”
The session left her on a high and craving more. The thirty minutes had flown by in a flash, making her reluctant to get out of the car. She climbed out and peeled off her gloves, the adrenaline slowly ebbing. When Reese looked up, Sloane was standing along the railing, blond hair lifting in the wind.
“You’re looking good out there, Hotshot,” Sloane said, quiet but certain.
“Thank you.” Reese tucked her helmet under her arm and stepped closer. “Any tips?”
“Pay attention to your braking points,” Sloane said easily. “The more consistent you are, the more the car gives back.”
“You got it.” Reese paused, a grin slipping free before she could stop it. “I love it when you watch me drive.”
