Chapter 23 #2
Reese nodded, her eyes pooling with tears. “Isn’t that the truth of it all? I feel like we’re all cut from the same cloth. That’s pretty special, if you ask me.”
“Even Danielle Todd?” Delaney asked with a sly grin.
“Let’s not get carried away,” Reese said, hand up. The comment had helped to break the tension, and they’d needed it.
Time lost its edges after that. Minutes stretched, then snapped back into place, marked only by the occasional opening of the trauma doors or the chime of the elevator.
While the others slept or visited the cafeteria, Sloane paced the length of the glass-walled waiting area until Veronica gently steered her back to a chair, her hand firm at Sloane’s elbow.
“Sit,” Veronica said quietly. “You’re going to wear a trench in the floor.”
Sloane tried. She lasted maybe thirty seconds before she was on her feet again, heart thudding, every nerve buzzing as if she were waiting for impact instead of news.
When the doctor returned, it felt abrupt, like a door opening into cold air.
“She’s holding,” the doctor said, and Sloane hated how much she clung to the word. “Vitals are stable. The scans show internal bruising and some bleeding, but nothing that requires immediate surgery at this moment.”
At this moment.
Sloane caught that, the way you catch a loose thread and know better than to pull.
“She’s still disoriented,” the doctor continued. “That’s expected. We’ve got her sedated lightly now to let her rest. The next few hours are still critical, but right now, this is … cautiously positive.”
It was a good report.
Veronica asked the practical questions—ICU access, overnight protocols, when family could see her.
Sloane stood there, arms crossed tight across her chest, the answers sliding past her without fully landing.
She focused instead on the doctor’s face, on the absence of urgency in her posture, on the fact that she wasn’t rushing away this time.
That was something.
Cassidy’s parents arrived a few hours later, bleary-eyed, still wearing travel clothes, her mother clutching her phone like it was the only solid thing left in the world. Introductions were made softly, as if everyone was afraid of speaking too loudly in case it changed the outcome.
“I feel like I know each of you from all Cass has told us,” her mother said. She squeezed Marissa’s hand. “She sees you all as family, so we do, too.”
“She was disoriented but talking earlier,” Sloane said, because someone had to say it first, and because she needed to hear herself say it out loud. “She’s alive. She’s stable. The fireproofing saved her.”
Cassidy’s mother nodded, tears spilling freely now, her hand flying to her mouth. Her father closed his eyes for a long moment, shoulders sagging before he straightened again, resolve settling in where shock had been.
“Thank you for staying with her,” he said, his voice rough. “It means more than you know.”
Sloane didn’t trust herself to answer; she nodded instead.
With the family there, the energy in the room shifted. There was nothing left for the team to do. No more updates to chase. No roles to play. Just waiting and, ultimately, leaving Cassidy with her family.
Veronica checked the time. “We should get everyone back to the hotel. Tomorrow’s going to be long.”
No one argued. They just looked tired. Wrung out. Sloane felt like she was about to fall over. Her limbs ached and her head throbbed.
Outside, the night air felt wrong, too cool, too normal, as if everything was okay when it wasn’t. Reese walked beside Sloane without speaking, their shoulders brushing occasionally. Sloane was aware of every step, every sound, her body still braced like something else was coming.
The cars arrived, and there was a quiet, awkward shuffle—who was riding with whom, promises to text, to update, to meet in the morning. Sloane watched Reese hug Marissa and Delaney, murmuring reassurances she wasn’t sure she believed herself.
When Reese turned back to her, Sloane felt a sudden, irrational spike of panic, which Reese was quick to spot.
“Hey, I know today was hard for you in a different way than it was for us.” She touched Sloane’s cheek. “You were great in there.”
The answer lodged somewhere behind Sloane’s ribs, sharp and unmanageable. She nodded anyway. “Yeah. It was hard to hold it together. I’m also just … tired.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
As they pulled out of the hospital parking lot, the city lights streaking past, Sloane kept both hands locked on her knees, jaw tight, heart still racing like she hadn’t quite escaped the crash herself.
The worst part—the part she couldn’t shake was the thought that kept circling back, uninvited and relentless: This could have been Reese.
And once that thought took hold, it didn’t matter how stable Cassidy was, or how good the doctor sounded, or how quiet the road was beneath them.
Something in Sloane had shifted tonight.
And it wasn’t going back.
The rest of the weekend in Austria was overcast and gray, the sky a fitting backdrop to the reality they were living.
Reese went through the motions. Shaking hands, shooting Instagram promos with a practiced smile, running reaction drills just in case she was needed, answering reporter questions about the mood around the paddock, “given the crash and condition of Cassidy Simms.” They said her name as if it belonged to a stat line or a grid graphic, not the lovable, silly, huge-hearted woman Reese knew so well.
Cassidy’s parents did a remarkable job of keeping everyone updated, and the news, still cautious, was moving in the right direction.
She’d been awake and responsive in short stretches, grumpy about the burns on her hands and already asking questions about the race she’d missed.
The last part made Reese smile. The internal injuries were being monitored closely, and the doctors chose their words with precision.
But each update carried a little more steadiness than the last. Late Saturday evening, her mother texted to say that if everything stayed on course, visitors would be allowed on Sunday.
Reese read the message three times, her chest tightening with something wonderfully close to relief, and held onto the prospect as she moved through the weekend.
Sloane had been quieter than usual, which worried Reese.
She reminded herself that Sloane had a soft spot for Cass and that everyone was processing what happened in their own way.
While she wanted to give Sloane the space she needed, another part of her wanted to do everything in her power to make the world seem okay for Sloane again.
To show Sloane that she was safe and loved.
Loved. Because she was that.
Okay, so Reese had yet to loop Sloane in on her feelings, but there would be plenty of time. It didn’t make it any less true. She had fallen hopelessly in love, and it felt so amazing she almost couldn’t believe she could be this blessed.
But she had her eye on Sloane this weekend.
Even if she was more reserved, she still smiled every time their eyes met.
Still reached for Reese’s hand whenever they stood close enough.
At night, they talked in the darkened hotel room long past their bedtime and held each other as a reminder that neither of them had to carry the weight alone.
The morning of the Grand Prix had them both up early.
Reese was ready first and watched from the bathroom doorway as Sloane applied lip gloss in the mirror. She was stunning in these peaceful, everyday moments. Reese’s chest squeezed pleasantly at how very much at home she felt. “Want to walk over together?” she asked quietly.
Sloane smiled, ran her fingers through her hair, and gave herself one last check in the mirror. “I would like nothing more than to walk with you,” she said, turning. “Maybe we could grab a smoothie at the breakfast counter.”
“Why do you always say such amazing things to me?”
“Because I know the way to your heart and it’s definitely through strawberries.”
“That’s how simple you think I am? Give me great sex, advice from a hot blond woman who knows racing, and a few strawberries, and I’m sold?”
“Yes,” Sloane said without considering the question.
“Fine. You’re not wrong.” Reese grinned because she very much liked that Sloane had gotten to know those little details.
Sloane walked to her and slid her arms around Reese’s neck, going up on her tippy-toes so they were eye to eye. “I might be generalizing. Because you’re a lot more complex than that. I happen to love … your intricacies.”
Record scratch. Reese raised an eyebrow. She knew what she almost heard. She also watched Sloane change course midsentence, and it made her heart dance. They were on the same page.
“What?” Sloane asked, the sides of her mouth tugging.
“Nothing. Just taking a sec to enjoy this moment.”
“Good. Come here for it.”
“Me?” Reese employed her sexy grin.
“No one else.” Sloane angled her head and kissed Reese slowly, longingly, and with intention. When they parted, she held her eyes closed for an extra few seconds. “You also kiss like no human should be allowed to kiss. You’ll ruin me for all others.”
“That’s exactly the point,” Reese said, going in for more. “Others? What others?” Reese said, doing Sloane’s voice. “That’s what I want you saying.”
“Is that how I sound?” Sloane asked with a laugh. “Others? What others?”
“That was the best impersonation of me impersonating you that I’ve ever heard. Do it again. Maybe with your clothes off.”
“No,” Sloane said, jabbing her ribs with a finger. “I will not. There is a smoothie with my name on it. Get me there.”