They were eccentric, no question, but warm in a way that made the ache in her chest loosen. For the first time in months Mia felt seen without having to perform.
Later, when the family had migrated to the living room for more wine and board games, Dana pulled her into the quiet kitchen at the back of the house. Rain tapped against the window. The kettle hissed on the stove.
Dana leaned against the counter, arms crossed, studying her with that calm, knowing look she usually reserved for drivers hiding pain.
“You’ve been quiet all day,” she said gently. “More than usual. What’s going on?”
Mia set her empty glass down, fingers tracing the rim. She took a breath.
“Lucas… kissed me,” she said finally, voice low, almost like she was testing the words out loud for the first time. “After Abu Dhabi. Well, I kissed him back too. Then we kind of panicked.”
She looked down at the counter, cheeks warm. “I’ve been trying to pretend it didn’t happen. Or that it didn’t mean anything. But it’s still… there.”
Dana stayed quiet for a second, just letting the words settle. Then she reached over and gave Mia’s forearm a quick, steady squeeze.
“That’s… yeah. That’s a fucking lot,” she said, simple and matter-of-fact.
Mia let out a small, breathy laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I keep telling myself it was just the end-of-season adrenaline. One stupid moment. But I don’t know. It doesn’t feel that simple.”
Dana nodded slowly, expression steady. “Did he say anything after? Like, was there any ‘we’ll figure this out’ bullshit or ‘let’s talk when things calm down’?”
Mia shook her head. “Nothing. Just… we both agreed it couldn’t happen again. Then we walked away like nothing had changed.”
Dana gave a dry half-smile, then leaned in a little, voice dropping to that familiar deadpan she used when she was half-joking, half-serious.
“Look,” she said, “worst case? You two just need to fuck each other’s brains out once—properly, no half-arsed snog after a race—and get it out of your systems before one of you bins a two-hundred-million-pound car because you’re too busy thinking about each other’s mouths.”
Mia choked on air, eyes going wide as a startled laugh burst out of her.
Dana’s grin turned pure mischief. “What? I’ve seen worse neck tension than whatever weird fucking energy you two have going on. Sometimes the fix is dead simple: let the pressure off. Literally. One good shag and half the paddock drama sorts itself.”
Mia pressed a hand to her mouth, still laughing, the absurdity of it cracking something open in her chest. “You’re shocking.”
“I’m fucking right,” Dana shot back, but her eyes stayed soft. “Or… it could turn into something real. Something that makes everything messier and more complicated than it already is. Either way—you don’t have to sort it out tonight. Just… breathe. Let it sit for a bit.”
Mia exhaled, the laughter easing into something quieter, steadier. “Thanks. For saying it like that. It helps.”
“Anytime.” Dana gave her arm one last squeeze.
Mia glanced toward the living room, where laughter and the clatter of game pieces drifted through. “Your family’s great, you know. I can’t believe how… cool they are. Warm. Loud in the best way. It’s like stepping into a different planet.”
Dana chuckled, but there was something quieter in it. She tilted her head. “And I bet you’re wondering why we don’t quite look the same.”
Mia flushed. “I wasn’t—I mean—”
“It’s fine.” Dana waved it off, easy. “I’m adopted. Mum and Dad brought me home when I was three weeks old. Birth mum was… well, a mess. Crack addiction, died not long after I was born. No idea who my dad was. Could’ve been anyone. Social services didn’t have much to go on.”
She shrugged, like it was just another fact, and poured hot water into the mugs. “I grew up in Birmingham—big family noise, everyone shouting over each other. Mum and Dad are Brummies through and through. Then when I was seventeen they moved us down here to Surrey so I could go to uni in London without it being a nightmare commute. Said they wanted me to have options.”
Mia listened, chest tight in a different way now.
Dana handed her a mug, steam curling between them. “This lot—they’re mad, yeah. Dad still fixes everything with duct tape, Mum collects vintage typewriters she can’t type on, and my brother once tried to build a hoverboard in the garage and nearly set the house on fire. But they gave me everything. Every chance. School, uni, the ridiculous confidence to walk into an F1 garage and tell grown men how to stretch. I feel so lucky it hurts sometimes.”
She met Mia’s eyes, steady. “Doesn’t mean it’s not complicated. I still wonder sometimes—what if I turn out like her? What if I pass on something I don’t even understand? I’m almost thirty now, and I still don’t know if I want kids. A family. A little baby depending on me completely… that’s a lot. A lot that could go wrong. I patch drivers up every weekend—fix what’s broken in front of me. Building something from scratch? That’s scarier.”
Mia reached out this time, covering Dana’s hand with her own. “You’d be an amazing mum. If you ever wanted it.”
Dana’s laugh was soft, a little wry. “Maybe. We’ll see. For now, I’ve got this madhouse, a job that keeps me on planes half the year, and friends like you. That’s enough.”
