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I turned toward the camera for the first time. “I don’t think people realize how lonely this sport can be.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Everyone sees the podiums, the trophies, the champagne, the headlines. What they don’t see is the 14-year-old who leaves home, who misses birthday parties, misses out on being a kid with no responsibilities, who holds the pressure of knowing one mistake could end the only thing they’ve ever wanted. Maisey here is really good at making friends. Ask anyone around the paddock, she’s the ray of sunshine no one can turn away from. She made life not so lonely back then.” I exhaled slowly. Maisey squeezed my hand once, encouraging me on. “I wasn’t okay back then. I just got really good at pretending I was.” Maisey’s thumb brushed over my knuckles. “I thought if I admitted I was struggling, people would think I wasn’t strong enough to drive.”

I smiled without humor. “So instead”—I shrugged—“I buried it. Turns out that’s a terrible coping mechanism.”

Maisey laughed quietly. “The worst.”

“The absolute worst.” I looked into the camera. “If you’re an athlete, or a fan, or just a human being…please don’t make the mistake I did. Asking for help isn’t a weakness. It’s probably the bravest thing you’ll ever do.”

Maisey nodded beside me. “Talk to your family, a friend, a teammate, a coach you trust.” She wiped quickly beneath one eye. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself. You were never supposed to.” I looked over at her, feeling so proud of the woman she had become, of the girl she was and every single brave day she spent in between.

“Yesterday was heavy, and Maisey needed someone in her corner,” I explained. “I never want to let my team down, or my fans. But needing help is not a weakness, and I was needed here.” I squeezed her hand again. She nodded, squaring her shoulder and glancing at her notes again.

“So if today feels heavy…” She smiled gently through it. “If getting out of bed felt like your biggest accomplishment…I’m proud of you. If all you managed today was existing…that counts. Bad days don’t erase all the good ones.” I leaned over and kissed her temple.

“So from the two former kids who thought they had to carry the world alone”—she laughed—“please don’t.”

“We promise,” I said softly, “there are people who want to help carry it with you.”

She smiled into the lens one last time. “And if no one has told you today”—she looked at me before finishing—“we’re really glad you’re here.”

The camera kept recording for another few quiet seconds. Neither of us reached to turn it off. We just sat there, fingers laced together beneath the table, watching the sun disappear below the harbor. She leaned into my shoulder, and we took in the world around us.

35

MAISEY | PRESENT

RACE WEEKEND ELEVEN - AUSTRIAN GRAND PRIX

Everything had shifted so drastically since we posted our interview. I had quickly edited it together and posted it to socials without approval. But I needed to put it out in the world. The response was an outpouring of love, people saying how they felt the same in their own sports, kids who thanked us for being so open. I had cried reading through the messages with Theo as we curled up in bed together. Theo’s team principal himself reached out to PitSpark and supported us taking a few days off. Three days to ourselves before jetting off to the next race in Austria went by too fast. I wanted more of it, more of Theo relaxed, lounging on the balcony without a shirt on, bringing me coffee in bed and distracting me from the world. I wanted Theo Bauer to distract me from work every day. I was sitting in a café inside the paddock on my computer, sifting through comments, when a call came through.

“Mom!” I shrieked, picking up the call at lightning speed.

“Hey pumpkin!” I heard my dad say in the background as my mom shouted, “Hi sweetie!”

“I miss you guys so much,” I sighed. I didn’t know the last time I had spent this much time apart from them.

“How’re you doing, pumpkin?” my dad asked.

“I’m good! Austria is stunning. I hope to explore a little later today since it’s free practice and I don’t have any live interviews scheduled for the day.”

“That’s so wonderful!” my mom’s voice popped up.

“Well, we wanted to call and say how very proud we are of you.” My father’s smile was evident in his voice alone. “We watched your interview with Theo. Opening up about athletes’ mental health like that, I…” He paused, leaving an ache in my chest. “I’m really proud of you, kid.”

“Thanks, Dad. It was a hard day like always, but making something out of it was worth it. It’s been received really well. Young athletes are commenting about balancing their sport with being a kid and still living life, others talking more openly about therapy. It’s all been really surreal.”

“I am in awe of you!” my mom shouted again. I laughed.

“Where are you guys? Do I hear bells?”

“Oh, we’re in the garden, your father bought some new windchimes to go next to the bird feeders!”

“Did you get the photo of the Eastern Bluebird I sent you?” my dad asked. I had received it, along with about a hundred others. Mom got him a bird feeder with a camera this year for his birthday, and he had descended into bird heaven.

We talked for a bit before I had another incoming call from Evan confirming no interviews today and telling me to enjoy the rest of the day off. I was about to close my laptop and pack up when I heard the sharp clacking of heels echoing across the floor followed by a voice I knew better than my own.

“Surprise!”

My head snapped up so fast I nearly toppled straight out of the chair.