CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Mia
The current season was winding down for everyone else, but at Ascari it was full steam on launch preparation. Content packs arrived when they were supposed to, media schedules she could actually close before midnight, a garage small enough that every decision mattered and no one was screaming over anyone else. Etienne’s twenty-year-old chaos was bright and tiring in the best possible way; Eddie’s quiet, title-winner certainty made planning calls feel solid instead of desperate. For the first time the job didn’t feel like something she had to survive — it felt like something she could own.
She flew to Abu Dhabi alone. Yas Marina met her with the usual slap of heat and brake dust, the smell that clung to everything and somehow still felt like coming home. She kept her head down: Etienne’s sponsor filming, tone sheets for the launch campaign, making sure Ascari’s early branding stayed clean and invisible unless they earned eyes on them. No race this weekend — just promo shoots, driver introductions for next year’s debut, and the slow grind of building visibility for a team that hadn’t turned a competitive wheel yet.
The night before the main sponsor shoot she met Dana at the tucked-away bar just beyond the circuit fencing. Dana was already in the corner booth, gin and tonic half-gone, physio bag dumped over the chair like it had attitude.
Mia slid in opposite and ordered sparkling water with lime.
Dana didn’t waste time. “Right, spill. Ascari actually treating you like a fucking human or what?”
Mia let the cold glass cool her palm. “It’s… quieter. Smaller. I get to think between meetings instead of putting out fires. Etienne’s a walking adrenaline shot, but he actually listens when I talk. Eddie’s steady as hell. They trust me to run content without hovering.”
Dana snorted, leaning back. “You sound almost fucking happy. Who the hell are you and what have you done with Mia?”
The laugh came out small but real. “I am. Not perfect. But yeah… happy in the work. It feels like mine again.”
Dana reached over and gripped her wrist, hard. “Good. You deserve this.”
They talked until the bar started emptying — Jax’s latest media shitshow, Dana’s vague plan to head off somewhere sunny next year and not think about physio tape for a month. When they hugged goodbye outside, Dana held on tighter than usual.
“See you around the paddock tomorrow, yeah?” she said. “And Mia — whatever the fuck happens this weekend, keep your chin up. You’ve got this. Don’t let anyone — anyone — knock you off your feet again.”
Mia nodded, throat tight. “I won’t.”
* * *
The next day was sponsor meet and greets. Etienne did driver photoshoots and quick launch interviews — a step forward for the startup. Mia spent the afternoon in the media centre: testing mics for upcoming content, adjusting stands, coiling spare cables, making sure Ascari’s branding was visible in every frame. The room slowly cleared until it was just the drone of the air-conditioning and the echo of her own footsteps.
The door opened behind her.
“You’re back.”
His voice hit low and rough, exactly the way it always had inthe quiet hours when she still let herself remember. Her fingers locked on the cable.
She didn’t turn right away. “Yeah. I’m back.”
The door clicked shut. The air changed — heavier, smaller. He stopped a few paces away; she could smell the day on him: hot rubber from the track, race-suit sweat, that same cologne he always wore.
She forced herself to face him. He looked… tired. Good, still unfairly good, but tired in the eyes. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to take up space.
For a long second neither of them spoke.
He cleared his throat. “Promo going okay for you guys?”
“Etienne’s shoot wrapped clean. Branding looks sharp. Team’s happy with the early stuff.”
“Good. That’s… good.” He shifted his weight.
Another beat. The silence stretched, awkward and thick.
He glanced at the coiled cables in her hands, then away. “You still do that thing with the spare leads.”
She managed a half-smile, small and careful. “Old habits.”
“Yeah.” He exhaled through his nose, looked at the floor, then back at her. “You look… good, Mia.”
