Chapter 10 #2
And, knowing that if anyone in Formula Next was getting the whisper of a call-up, it would be someone like Danielle Todd, lit a new fire in her gut. Not jealousy. Not quite. More like a challenge. A dare.
She wasn’t done yet. Not even close.
When she walked back to the paddock to grab her bag, most everyone had already cleared out.
The lights were dimmer now, the air less electric—victory celebrations having tapered off one garage at a time.
As she passed Vantera’s on the way back from Ravensport’s, a sharp exchange of voices cut through the quiet, making her pause.
One was Marissa’s.
The other—louder, angrier—was her father’s.
Dammit. That fucking guy always showed up on race days.
He flew in just before lights out, made a bunch of demands, and disrupted Marissa’s flow like it was his personal hobby.
Reese couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have an overbearing parent like Leo Giovani, while also having him be one of the team’s biggest investors. He was a VIP and acted like it.
“It’s still a podium,” she heard Marissa say, calm but tired.
“Don’t, for a moment, let yourself feel good about P3. You hear me?” Leo’s voice snapped like a whip. “P3 is last of the best. You want to be last? Not on this team. Not on my team.”
“I don’t know what more you want. I did everything I could,” Marissa said, her voice thinning with exhaustion.
“Then what went wrong? This isn’t F1. You’re all in the same car. Figure it out.” Something clattered—metal on concrete—as if he’d purposely knocked something over on his way out. His footsteps stormed down the corridor.
Reese’s jaw tightened. She wanted nothing more than to explode into that garage and tell that man exactly how phenomenal his daughter was—not just behind the wheel, but as a human being. Instead, she made herself breathe and waited a few beats before appearing in the doorway.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Marissa turned. Her attempt at a smile wavered.
She’d changed into her street clothes already, her long dark hair pulled into a ponytail.
She looked wrung out, like she’d spent the better part of the last hour justifying a result seventeen other drivers would have killed for. “Want to ride back together?”
Reese nodded. “Hundred percent. Let’s get out of here.”
Some of the tension slipped from Marissa’s shoulders, and together they walked out into the humid night.
The full moon hung low, glowing brighter by the minute.
Heat clung to Reese’s skin, heavy and sticky, and despite the long day, she wasn’t even close to ready for sleep.
They raced again tomorrow … but one drink couldn’t hurt.
She’d sworn off any more than that during the season.
“Want to grab a cocktail?” she asked. “I know you don’t drink on race weekends, but maybe we could make it a mocktail?”
“Reese. I want a drink right now more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” And this time, Marissa’s smile looked real. “We’re having one.”
They found one of the academy cars and rode back to the hotel, a quick drive punctuated by silence that didn’t feel awkward, just needed. Inside, they posted up at a small, out-of-the-way table in the lobby bar, away from the remaining buzz of the night.
“You had a great race today,” Reese said once their drinks were delivered—a glass of wine for Marissa, a beer for her. “Your dad not appreciating it doesn’t change the facts.”
“Ah. So you heard him?” Marissa’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Nothing I’m not used to. He has impossible standards.
It’s been that way my whole life. He’s rich, entitled, and expects everyone to bend the second he snaps his fingers.
” She swirled her wine, watching the liquid catch the light. “What are your parents like?”
“My dad died when I was eight,” Reese said quietly. “And my mom is poor and awesome, which sounds like the exact opposite of your dad.”
Marissa blinked. “I didn’t know you’d lost yours.”
Reese shrugged. “I don’t talk about it much. He was my hero. A good guy who maybe put racing in front of the things that mattered more. He loved it so much that he died doing it.”
“In a race?” Marissa asked, eyes wide. Every driver’s worst nightmare sat between them now.
“Nothing official. It was a street race.” Reese shook her head. “He should’ve known better. It was reckless, and he could’ve hurt someone. Wound up hurting himself. And us. In the end, my mom had to figure everything out on her own with basically nothing.”
“I’m sorry,” Marissa murmured.
“Oh, that’s okay.” Reese forced a small smile. “I guess we both had dads who made some choices that weren’t great for their families.”
Marissa nodded slowly. “I think about that a lot. How one decision, made in an instant, can completely redirect a life. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just told my dad to fuck off.”
“Would you?”
“I might.” Her gaze drifted past Reese to some point far away. “I don’t quite know what my plan is.”
“For him?”
“For me.” Marissa exhaled, a soft huff. “I love racing. It’s all I’ve ever known. But sometimes I think … maybe there’s more out there, you know?”
Reese was confused. The words didn’t compute. “Like what?”
“Hard to say. Maybe I could be Veronica Vance. Or one of the race officials.” Marissa sat back, lighter with a faraway look in her eye.
“Hell, sometimes I think I’d make a great sports journalist.” Then it seemed like reality came crashing back in.
Her eyes dropped to the table as if she regretted saying any of it aloud. “Anyway.”
Reese stared at her, stunned. Marissa Giovani, of all people, not fully committed to racing? Marissa, who drove like she was born for it? But the thing was … Reese believed her. And she believed she could do any one of those things brilliantly.
“You’d be a kick-ass reporter,” Reese said, leaning back in her chair, “now that I’ve seen you hold your own with literally anyone. You ask good questions. You never get rattled under pressure. And you actually listen when someone talks, which is more than I can say for most people.”
Marissa looked up, surprise flickering across her face like she hadn’t expected kindness, at least not today. Maybe not ever, coming off a race.
“You really think so?” she asked, voice softer than before.
“No. I know so,” Reese said simply. “You’d be great at whatever you picked.”
Marissa didn’t speak right away. Instead, she took a long sip of her wine, staring straight ahead as though absorbing the idea piece by piece. The lobby was quiet except for the faint hum of an air conditioner and the muted chatter from the bar. It made the moment feel oddly suspended. Untouched.
Finally, she exhaled. “No one’s ever said that to me. Not like that.”
Reese blinked. “Said what?”
“That I could be great at something outside of what I’m expected to be.” Marissa gave a small, lopsided smile, more honest than any she’d worn today. “It’s nice.”
Reese’s chest tightened, something warm and protective blooming there. “Well, it’s true. And you deserve to hear the truth every now and then.”
Marissa laughed softly, but there was no embarrassment in it this time. It sounded more like relief. “You’re turning out to be a really good friend, you know that? Not gonna lie. It’s not what I expected of Reese Maddox.”
Well, this was interesting. “What did you expect?”
“No. It sounds awful.”
“Even more reason to just say it.” Reese sat back, smiling, and waited. It wasn’t the first time she’d been misjudged.
“I expected you to be surface-level. Very caught up in yourself and glued to a mirror.”
“God.”
“I know!” Marissa shook her head, mystified. “I was guessing you took all the media gigs and Instagram collabs because you were so into yourself and your image. I didn’t ever imagine it was because—”
“I was trying to pay my way?”
“Exactly. Yes.” She winced. “I’m an embarrassed, entitled asshole.”
“I don’t fault you. I’m finding out that it’s a pretty common assumption.”
“From people who were brought up with too much of everything,” Marissa said. “Racing is a sport designed for rich people. Let’s be honest.”
“Maybe you’ll change that one day. Bring awareness in your capacity as a sports journalist.”
Marissa grinned. “Maybe I will. In the meantime, I don’t mind saying that I was dead wrong about you, Reese.” She swirled her wine and took a sip. “I’m glad I was wrong. I’m even more glad you’re my friend.”
The word friend hit Reese in a place she hadn’t realized was empty until now. She nodded. “Right back at you.”
For a while, they sat quietly, not needing to fill the space with chatter.
Just two drivers in the late-night calm, letting the day settle.
The moonlight spilled through the lobby windows, and the weight of earlier conversations lifted between them, replaced with something steadier. Trust, maybe? Or the beginning of it.
Marissa set her glass down gently. “Thanks for staying with me tonight.”
“Anytime,” Reese said. And she meant it.
The friendships she was forming with these women after just a few weeks were staggering.
There was something special about the academy.
Maybe it was the mission, maybe the shared grit of women carving out space in a world not built for them.
Maybe it was the simple fact that they were all here, together, wanting the same impossible thing.
Whatever the reason, Reese knew with startling clarity that these friendships weren’t temporary. They were the kind that rewired you, that marked the before and after in your life. These friendships were the beginning of something lasting. Something she’d carry with her long after the season ended.