Mia managed a nod and perched on the stool near the wall, careful to keep her eyes on the bottle in her hands rather than the expanse of bare skin across the room. But she could still feel him—his presence like the subtle warmth of the sun on the track after a cold morning. The air felt thicker now, charged with something she couldn’t quite name. Or wouldn’t.
Lucas opened his eyes, meeting hers across the space. His gaze was steady, unhurried, and for a second she thought she saw something flicker in it—awareness maybe, or the same lowburn she was trying to ignore.
“Long day?” he asked, voice low and easy.
“Always,” she replied, forcing her tone steady. A small, betraying flush still lingered on her cheeks, creeping down her neck. “You?”
“Car’s behaving. That’s half the battle.” He winced slightly as Dana gave one last press into a knot. “The other half is not crashing into the barriers when the rear steps out.”
Mia smiled despite herself. “I saw the onboard. Looked dramatic from the outside. Fans are already clipping it for edits—‘LUCAS VS. THE BEAST ROUND 2’.”
He laughed, a low, genuine sound that vibrated through the small room. “You’re keeping tabs?”
“Part of the job.” She paused, then added softer, “Plus… it’s impressive. You make it look easy.”
“It’s not,” he admitted, quieter now. “Some laps today, everything clicked. Felt like the car was an extension of me. Then others… just fighting it. Reminds me why I do this.”
Dana patted his shoulder once. “All set. Ice it tonight, no heroics.” She turned to Mia with a pointed look—half teasing, half protective. “You too—drink that water. Dehydration’s the silent killer even in this chill. And maybe take a breath while you’re at it.”
The subtext was clear: I know exactly what’s happening here, and I’m watching both of you.
As Dana stepped out to grab fresh ice packs from the cooler down the hall, the room quieted. Lucas slid off the table slowly, reaching for his team polo but not putting it on immediately. He held it loosely in one hand, leaning back against the treatment table, arms crossed over his bare chest in a way that did nothing to hide the lines she’d just tried so hard not to stare at.
“Listen,” he said, voice dropping lower, more private. “I didn’t want things to feel… weird. After Abu Dhabi.”
Mia’s grip tightened on the bottle until the plastic crinkled. “It doesn’t have to be weird. We’re colleagues. Friends, even.”
“Friends,” he echoed, testing the word like it fit but not perfectly. His eyes held hers—steady, searching. “I like that.”
She met his gaze, the flush still warm under her skin. “Me too.”
The door creaked open again as Dana returned with the ice packs, breaking whatever thread had been pulling taut between them. She handed one to Lucas with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Put this on before you two start reciting poetry. And Mia—don’t let him talk you into staying for debrief. You’ve earned an early finish.”
Mia laughed—shaky, grateful for the interruption—and stood. “Thanks, Dana. I’ll… see you both tomorrow.”
She slipped out, the cool corridor air hitting her flushed face like a mercy. Behind her, she heard Dana mutter something low to Lucas—probably a warning—and his quiet reply, too soft to catch.
But the image of him—shirtless, taped, looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time in months—stayed with her long after she left the room.
* * *
Lucas
The physio room door clicked shut behind Mia, and the space suddenly felt colder, emptier. Lucas pressed the ice pack to his shoulder without really feeling it, his eyes still on the spot where she’d been standing. The faint trace of her scent lingered.
He had felt her freeze in the doorway the second she walked in. Hadn’t needed to open his eyes to know it was her—something about the way the air shifted, the quiet hitch in her breath. When he finally looked, he’d caught the flush climbing her cheeks, the way her gaze snagged on his scar, then slid lower before snapping back up like she’d been burned. Fuck. That look had gone straight to his groin—quick, hot, impossible to ignore. He’d had to force himself to keep breathing evenly while Dana finished the tape, pretending he hadn’t noticed how her eyes kept darting back to him.
Now she was gone, and the room felt too quiet. Dana was watching him with that knowing smirk she wore when she’dclocked something he didn’t want to admit.
“You’re staring at the door like it owes you money,” she said, tossing him a fresh towel. “Care to explain why your heart rate just jumped twenty beats when our girl walked in?”
Lucas exhaled through his nose, pressing the ice harder against his skin. “Don’t start.”
“Too fucking late.” Dana leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I saw her face. I saw yours. And I saw the way you didn’t put your shirt back on. Subtle, Moreau. Real subtle.”
He shot her a look—half warning, half resignation. “It’s not like that.”
“Bullshit.” Dana’s tone was light but pointed. “You’ve been different around her since pre-season. Less guarded. More… human. And today? The way you were looking at her.”
