Chapter 23 #3
They took their time on the way to the circuit, holding hands until they approached the driver’s entrance.
No need to attract extra attention, but secretly, Reese wouldn’t have minded at all.
She wanted to announce to every human they passed who they were becoming to each other.
She’d write it in the sky or make Samara put it smack in the middle of her documentary, complete with subtitles.
But she could be patient, because she sensed it was what Sloane needed.
Their day would come, though, and Reese was feeling ready for the leap.
She watched as Sloane stopped for a selfie with a group of diehards along the fan zone, and the way she rocked each interaction with such grace and poise.
Reese seemed like a loping golden retriever in comparison, energetic and bouncing from person to person.
How could two people with such different approaches be so ridiculously compatible?
Reese spent the day checking the boxes required of a reserve driver, none of which put her behind the wheel of a car.
She passed Marco Faz in the Laurens garage shortly before the race.
Continuing her efforts, she offered a nod, and he provided her a full-body once-over that made her cringe.
Teammate or not, she found it hard to root for the guy.
The race was a highlight. Simply being that close to the action made her pulse kick up, the sound and vibration of the cars bleeding straight into her bones.
She stood near the pit wall, headset hanging uselessly around her neck, eyes tracking apexes and exits on instinct, mentally correcting lines she couldn’t drive.
Every start, every late brake, every clean overtake landed like both a gift and a taunt.
This was where she belonged, inside the action, not hovering on the edges, smiling for cameras and waiting for permission.
When the race ended, the adrenaline had nowhere to land. She’d watched both Marco and Ezra finish in the middle of the pack, with Ezra just inside the points. Marco had delivered none. She couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she’d have done a better job for Laurens.
“You have good instincts. I heard you talking with Shanelle during the race.”
Reese turned at the sound of the voice to see Damon Mendoza looking her way. As Ezra’s engineer, she’d listened to his counsel on the radio for much of the race. He was no Julie, but still very good at his job.
“Yeah? I hope I’m not in the way up here. I’m trying to soak up as much as I can. I feel like I learn something new every race,” Reese said, flashing a guilty smile. “Also, sorry if I was talking too much.”
“No, no, no. Never apologize for ambition. Hopefully, we’ll see what you can do soon. Keep up the good work.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” The truth was, she had been working her ass off, with discipline now her most important asset, a valuable lesson she’d learned that year.
The words from Damon had been the pat on the back she needed to keep going because this wasn’t a short journey, it was a long one.
When she headed to the driver’s room to reclaim her phone, she discovered something remarkable that stopped her in her tracks.
Cassidy
Is this thing on?
Reese crushed the phone to her chest, relief infusing every inch.
Cassidy had just messaged The Starting Grid, and they were the most glorious four words Reese had ever read in her life.
Her eyes filled as she typed, apparently at the same time as the other two.
All of their messages appeared right away.
Relief arc activated. Never do that again!
Marissa
OMG. Best message ever. The people want more.
Delaney
Dammit, Simms. I’m crying in the paddock bathroom now.
Cassidy
Love you guys. Thanks for caring about me.
It got better from there. The news from the doctors was amazing. After another day or two in the hospital, Cassidy would be able to fly home to Florida to rest and heal. She was likely out for the season, but seemed to have no intention of letting this little setback stop her.
Cassidy
Miss you guys already. But I’ll be back. Guaranteed.
How are you feeling?
Cassidy
Hands are healing. Midsection is really tender. Docs say I’m grounded for a bit. Which means I’m appointing myself The Starting Grid race control.
Reese smiled. Of course she was.
The paddock was already thinning as Reese stepped back out, transporters closing up, crews shedding lanyards and fireproofs.
Sunday always felt like this once the race was over—everyone exhausted, hollowed out, quietly forward-looking.
Drivers scattered, crews packed up, and teams already shifted their focus to the next stop on the calendar. In this case, Zandvoort, Netherlands.
But for Reese, the day wasn’t done. In fact, the best part was still ahead.
As the reserve, she got a small window to practice in the Laurens car once the chaos cleared.
A short session when the track belonged to whoever still had a reason to be there.
It wasn’t glamorous, and it certainly wasn’t public, but it mattered.
Laps were laps. Data was data. Seat time was absolutely priceless.
Her phone buzzed again.
Delaney
You got your Sunday laps today?
Yeah. Thirty minutes.
Delaney
Use every second.
Marissa
What I wouldn’t give to drive that car.
And it was a glorious car, too. She’d never driven anything like it. A short time later, Reese paused at the edge of the pit lane, watching a marshal wave a car through. The teams that stayed were the ones with something extra scheduled—test data to gather or rookies to keep sharp.
The Formula 1 car had felt different from the first moment Reese pulled onto the track.
In karts, speed came from being aggressive.
In rally, it was about reacting fast and trusting instinct.
Even the other open-wheel cars she’d driven let her fight them a little.
This one didn’t. It wanted calm. Smooth hands.
Patience. There was enormous power beneath her, but it only showed itself when she stayed controlled.
Reese realized quickly that driving this car wasn’t about going as hard as possible—it was about not making critical mistakes.
“Just keep it on the track,” Shanelle had told her. “The rest is all tweaking. We can’t tweak a drive once you’re in the wall.”
“Got it. Don’t bust up the multimillion-dollar car my first month on the job.”
Shanelle smiled and crossed her arms. “Now you’ve got it.”
The session left her on a high and craving more.
The thirty minutes had flown by in a flash, making her reluctant to get out of the car.
She climbed out and peeled off her gloves, the adrenaline slowly ebbing.
When Reese looked up, Sloane was standing along the railing, blond hair lifting in the wind.
“You’re looking good out there, Hotshot,” Sloane said, quiet but certain.
“Thank you.” Reese tucked her helmet under her arm and stepped closer. “Any tips?”
“Pay attention to your braking points,” Sloane said easily. “The more consistent you are, the more the car gives back.”
“You got it.” Reese paused, a grin slipping free before she could stop it. “I love it when you watch me drive.”
Sloane’s mouth curved, small and unmistakable. “I know,” she said. “I love getting to.”
“When do I get to see you behind the wheel?”
Sloane’s eyes widened just a fraction before she caught herself. She opened her mouth, then closed it. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah?” Reese asked. “How long?”
Sloane paused, as if counting backward. “Six years. Maybe.”
“I’m sure Veronica could make it happen,” Reese said easily. “We could take a car out and—”
Sloane drew in a slow breath. “Let’s hold off on that for now.”
Reese nodded immediately, the answer landing before the reason. She hadn’t meant to push. She hadn’t meant to touch anything still bruised. “Of course,” she said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
She didn’t say that she’d watched Sloane’s old races more times than she could count. Didn’t mention Abu Dhabi, where Sloane had carved through the field from thirteenth to first and won the whole damn thing. That history belonged to Sloane. Reese could wait to be invited into it.
“I did have a question for you, though,” Sloane said.
Intriguing. “And what is that?”
“Have you ever been to Venice Beach?”
Reese smiled, seeing where this was going. “Not since I was in karting.”
“Wanna go?”