Melbourne always felt like coming home. The familiar Australian accents drifting through the paddock, the sharp bite of eucalyptus cutting through the smell of burnt rubber, the crowd carrying that extra layer of hometown pride. This year it hit different.
His phone had buzzed just after he arrived at the circuit, he looked quickly expecting to see Aria's number. It was Nan. Nan never missed the Australian Grand Prix—she’d been there every year since he’d made it to Formula 1, right there in the VIP area with him, wearing her bright team cap and that proud grin that made the whole weekend feel complete.
“Soz, love,” she’d said, her familiar lilt, warm but a little rushed. “I won’t be able to make it down this time. One of the ladies from my Bridge group is starting treatment again and she’s nervous about going alone. I offered to drive her to the appointments and sit with her. You know how it is.”
Jax had kept his voice light, told her it was fine and that he understood. But even as he’d hung up, something felt off. The excuse had come out too quickly, too neatly packaged. He knew how selfless Nan was—she’d drop everything for a friend in need—but he could tell there was more to the story. He didn’t push. If she wasn’t ready to tell him the real reason, he wasn’t going to drag it out of her. Not today, not on race weekend.
After the tweaks in Bahrain, the car had finally woken up—balance dialled in, rear planted, enough front-end grip to attack the curbs without the old twitchy snap-oversteer. He felt sharp. Ready. Hungry.
But half his brain stayed braced for the text that never came.
Aria was supposed to land this morning. Every time his phone buzzed he half-expected the message that would end things:We need to talk. Min-Jae and I are giving it another go.The Seoul after-party kept replaying in his head—how she’d stiffened when he pulled her close, the way she’d gone quiet after Min-Jae walked away. He’d played the supportive boyfriend perfectly, grinning like it didn’t sting. But he’d seen the uncertainty lingering in her eyes.
She was still tied to her ex. Still using this—using him—to keep Min-Jae on the hook until the real thing came back around. If she bailed, he wouldn’t blame her. It would probably be easier that way. Cleaner.
His phone buzzed as he headed toward the garage for the pre-qualifying briefing.
Aria: Just landed. Traffic is chaos. I’ll be at the circuit in time for qualifying. See you after?
Relief hit him hard—sharp, unwelcome, too strong. She’d come.
Jax: Can’t wait. I’ll find you in hospitality after the session.
Qualifying came fast. The car felt alive—P4 on the grid, solid but not perfect. He climbed out, helmet hair plastered, race suit damp, and headed straight for hospitality. But first he detoured through the garage.
Lucas was already there, leaning against the wall in his fireproofs, helmet off, dark hair sticking up in sweaty spikes. He looked up when Jax walked in, a tired but genuine grin breaking across his face.
“P4, huh?” Lucas said, pushing off the wall. “Not bad for a guy who spent half the winter bitching about understeer.”
Jax snorted, peeling off his gloves. “Says the guy who locked up on Turn 1. P2 though—still showing off.”
Lucas laughed, short and sharp. “Car’s a rocket in sector two. You felt that traction on the exit of 11? Like glue. You’re gonna have to work tomorrow if you want a piece of me.”
Jax grabbed a water bottle from the cooler and took a long drink. “I’m coming for you, mate. Whole season. You and me—greatest rivalry this team’s ever seen. I’m not letting you have all the fun.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow, smirk widening. “Big words from the guy who’s been feeling sorry for himself for the past twelve months. You sure you’re ready for this circus?”
Jax stepped closer, voice dropping to that low, playful edge they both knew too well. “I’ve been ready. You just like hogging the spotlight. But now? Car’s dialled. I’m not chasing anymore. I’m hunting.”
Lucas clapped him on the shoulder—hard, brotherly. “Good. Because I’m not slowing down for you. Bring your A-game tomorrow, Callaghan. I want to see if you can actually back up the talk.”
Jax grinned, fierce and real. “Count on it. And when I’m standing on the top step and you’re down in P3 crying about it, remember who warned you.”
Lucas barked a laugh. “Dream on. See you on the grid.”
He walked off toward the motorhome, still chuckling. Jax watched him go, the familiar buzz of rivalry settling warm in his chest. Lucas wasn’t just a teammate—he was the benchmark, the one who pushed him harder than anyone. And tomorrow, he’d push back.
Aria was already in hospitality—oversized sunglasses pushed up into her hair, team cap on backward, sitting on the couch with a coffee in her hands. She looked up when he walked in, and the smile that broke across her face hit him square in the chest.
“Hey, P4,” she said, standing to meet him halfway.
“Hey, superstar.” He pulled her in without thinking—arms around her waist, face buried in her hair for a long second. She smelled like plane and jasmine and home. “You made it.”
“Told you I would.” She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes soft. “You looked fast out there.”
He managed a tired grin. “Car’s finally behaving. We’ll see tomorrow.”
They kept it light the rest of the afternoon—quick debriefs, sponsor photos. No cameras caught the way she squeezed his hand under the table, or the way he pressed a kiss to her temple when no one was looking. It felt real.
