She pulled the chair close and sat. Their knees almost brushed. Her hands stayed clasped in her lap.
“You scared everyone,” she said. Her voice cracked on the last word. “Scared me.”
“Yeah.” He looked down at the cast, flexed his fingers once—winced. “I scared myself. Thought for a second that was it.”
Silence settled—familiar, heavy.
He exhaled, gaze shifting to the dark window. “It’s been a parade in here all day. Mum and Dad got here first. Mum kept touching my face like she needed proof I was still breathing. Dad just held my good hand—quiet, but his grip was iron. They only left an hour ago.”
She nodded. He saw her throat move.
“Sienna rang when the news broke,” he continued, quieter. “I told her not to get on a plane. She sounded shaken.”
He shifted—winced at the ribs. “Claire and Marcus came by earlier. All business—wanted the telemetry, asked if I’d been distracted. They weren’t thrilled, but they didn’t bury me. Just rest, heal, come back stronger. Championship’s still there.”
A faint, wry smile tugged at his mouth. “And of course Dana and Jax had to check I wasn’t faking it.”
Mia smiled—small, pained, but real.
He looked at her then—really looked. “Didn’t know if you’d show up. After… everything.”
She reached out, rested her hand lightly on his good one.
The touch was warm, familiar.
“Of course I came,” she said softly.
He nodded once. “It was my dad,” he said, voice low. “Stupid comment about Grandad. Like I’d finally earned the name. Like the rest didn’t count. I let it get in my head. Got angry. Distracted. And I paid for it. Crashed like an idiot.”
She squeezed his hand. “You’re you. And you’ve already proven more than enough. More than anyone could ask.” Her thumb brushed once over his knuckles—slow, careful.
He met her eyes. “I let him down. Myself. The team. Everyone. Had the championship in my hands, Mia. Threw it away because I couldn’t keep my head straight.”
“No,” she said firmly, voice cracking. “You crashed. It happens. But things could have been so much worse today. The way that car hit… you could have—” She stopped, throat closing. Tears pricked her eyes, spilled over. “You walked away. That’s what matters. The car can be fixed. You’re still here. Alive.”
He held her gaze. Didn’t squeeze back right away. Just let her words land.
“Thanks for coming,” he said after a moment, voice even.
She nodded, tears still falling. “I had to know you were okay. I couldn’t just… wait. Not after everything.”
They sat in silence a little longer, her hand still on his. The air felt heavy—relief, old connection, things left unsaid.
“Get some rest,” she said finally. She stood, fingers trailing from his as she stepped back. “And Lucas?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re still the best driver out there. Don’t forget that. And don’t let anyone—not even your dad—make you doubt it."
He watched her go—every careful step to the door, the brief pause with her hand on the handle, the soft click as it closed.
The room felt quieter without her.
He leaned back against the pillows, eyes on the door she’d just walked through.
Summer break ahead. Time to heal.
He closed his eyes.
