Chapter 25
EXCITEMENT FIRST
Reese slid into a pair of her favorite jeans just as her phone began to dance on the creamy gray marble of the bathroom counter. She hopped toward it, one leg still fighting to make it inside, hair damp and loose around her shoulders.
“Oh shit,” she said, catching sight of her agent’s name on the readout.
She grabbed the phone and fumbled with the last button of her jeans. “Jeremy, hi,” she said, trying—and failing—to hide the breathlessness from the hop over.
“Hey, superstar,” Jeremy said, voice already pitched somewhere between excitement and restraint. “You got a minute?”
Reese’s pulse kicked. This is it. Or it’s nothing. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
“Yeah,” she said, leaning her hip against the counter. “What’s up?”
A pause—too deliberate to be casual.
“Okay,” Jeremy said. “So. Ezra Fernandez is having his gallbladder out. Emergency surgery. He’s fine, but he’s out for next weekend. Possibly the weekend after that. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Reese went very still.
Out in the other room, Sloane laughed at something probably on her phone. The sound threaded straight through Reese’s chest.
“So,” Jeremy continued, “they’re putting you in. This is it!”
The words landed with a weight Reese felt all the way down to her bones. Not a spark or a jolt. A settling. Like something sliding into place that had been waiting there the whole time.
“They want you back tonight,” Jeremy said. “Prep starts immediately.”
Tonight.
Her first instinct was a grin so wide it almost hurt. Her second was the image of her hands on the wheel, the smell of rubber and heat, the sound of the engine.
Her third was Sloane.
“Tonight,” Reese repeated, just to hear it out loud. She blinked, shoving a hand into her wet hair.
“You good?” Jeremy asked. “Because if you’re not—”
“I’m good,” Reese said quickly. Too quickly. Then she steadied herself. “I’m really good.”
She walked to the doorway, watching Sloane pull on her shoes, sunlight catching in her hair. Venice Beach. Downtime. A walk she’d been looking forward to more than she’d admitted.
“Ezra’s okay?” Reese asked. She needed that part nailed down.
“He’ll be back,” Jeremy said. “Just needs recovery time.”
Reese nodded, even though Jeremy couldn’t see her. “Tell them I’ll be there tonight.”
“I already did,” he said, pleased. “You don’t let people wait, Reese.”
She smiled. “Thank you,” she said, and meant it for more than just the call.
When she hung up, the house felt suddenly smaller, tighter, like it knew she was about to leave.
Sloane looked up and frowned. “That look,” she said. “What’s going on?”
Reese inhaled. “They’re putting me in.”
Sloane’s face lit up instantly, pride and happiness crashing together so cleanly it made Reese’s chest ache. She crossed the room and took Reese into her arms, warm and solid and real.
“Baby. That’s incredible,” Sloane said. “I knew this was coming.”
Reese hugged her back, breathing her in, already feeling the pull of what came next. Studying the track. Strategy sessions. A practice session behind the wheel.
“They want me there tonight,” Reese said softly. “That’s the hard part.”
Sloane didn’t hesitate. Not outwardly. “Oh.” A pause. “Okay. Well, what do we need to do?”
But Reese felt it—the tiniest shift. The weight behind the words.
And there it was. The part Reese didn’t let herself dwell on. The truth she carried quietly, like a fragile thing she didn’t want to drop.
I get to do the thing I love. And the person I love has to live with it.
She kissed Sloane’s temple, held on for one more beat than necessary. “Hey. Look at me.”
Sloane did. Her lips were pressed together, and she blinked several times.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry we’re getting cut short.”
Sloane brightened again. “No, no, no. I’m good. I’m incredibly happy for you. And we will have plenty of time to be … us. Right?” There was a quality behind her eyes that Reese couldn’t quite name. She’d not seen it before. Hesitancy maybe? Unease, perhaps? It made Reese linger an extra moment.
“Do you need to pack?” Sloane asked, placing a hand on the back of her hip, almost like she didn’t know what to do with it.
“Probably,” Reese said, still not ready to move away from Sloane if there was anything they needed to talk through. “But …”
“Go, Reese. I mean it. You’ve got a race to train for.”
The smile that took over Reese’s face was immediate, unstoppable. Because there was no sentence as thrilling as that one. After being out of the driver’s seat for far too long, she was back.
She was racing. And in her first Formula 1 race.
Reese pressed her forehead briefly to Sloane’s, grounding herself in the warmth of her, the reality of this moment, before the world shifted again.
For the first time, she wasn’t chasing the dream.
She’d caught it. It was here.
And in just a few days, she was going to climb into an F1 car and finally show the world exactly what she could do.
Sloane stacked one hand over the other and pressed them together until the tremor eased.
The apartment felt suddenly too quiet, the air thick with the aftermath of the call, with everything it had set in motion.
Reese was in the bedroom packing, the soft rasp of zippers opening and closing carrying down the hall like a countdown.
She forced her breathing to slow. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. Get your head right.
She knew what this moment meant and had known it long before Reese ever let herself hope for it.
A first Formula 1 race wasn’t just an opportunity; it was a threshold.
A once-in-a-lifetime crossing. Sloane refused to be the person who dimmed that.
She would not let her fear reach Reese’s joy, even if it meant locking it away where it could bruise her in private.
She’d always known the call would come. There were too many eyes on Reese now, too many people who understood what they were seeing.
If it hadn’t been Laurens, it would have been someone else, some other team, next season at the latest. Sloane had just believed—wrongly—that she would have more time to prepare herself for it, get some safeguards in place.
She’d already left a message for her old therapist, the one she’d walked away from back when she thought she had everything under control. She’d been so sure she could build a safety net before the ground gave way again.
Now the moment was here, and she was standing without one.
“Okay, so apparently Jeremy’s assistant managed to snag me the last seat on a flight to New York,” Reese said, bursting into the room with a duffel slung over her shoulder, words tumbling out in a rush of adrenaline. “There’s a tight connection to London, but it’s the best they could do.”
Sloane turned toward her, letting her face soften into something calm and open, even as her pulse skittered.
“I’ll probably need to sleep on the plane,” Reese went on, already pacing.
“I just talked to Shanelle—she’s excited but wants to get straight to work.
Use every second we have and maximize every practice session they’ll give me.
” She paused, eyes bright, grin breaking through.
“I know the circuit, though. I mean, it’s Silverstone for God’s sake. Couldn’t be more full circle.”
Sloane nodded. “That’s where Veronica recruited you, right?”
“Exactly.” Reese shook her head slowly, wonder creeping into her voice. “I had no idea how much that moment would change everything. Not just my career. My life.”
Her gaze found Sloane’s, purposeful and earnest, and something in her expression softened.
“Can you imagine if I’d said no?” Reese said quietly. “I never would have met you.”
“Who would have taught me about racing in a bar?”
“I thought we were never going to talk about that again?”
“Oh, I don’t know if I can agree to that,” Sloane said. “Lore is lore.”
Then Reese crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around Sloane, holding on longer than necessary.
Sloane closed her eyes and held Reese back, anchoring herself in the weight of her, the truth of this.
It was love and fear braided so tightly she wasn’t sure where one ended and the other began.
But joy still mattered, right?
And for Reese, today, that came first.
Reese pulled back just enough to find her eyes. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The house held its breath with them, the sound of the ocean drifting in through the open window, wholly indifferent.
“They’re sending a car,” Reese said softly, like saying it too loud might make it real too fast. “It should be here soon.”
Sloane nodded. “Yeah. I figured you’d have to head out fast.”
“Fuck. I hate this part.”
“It’s definitely getting zero stars from me.” Sloane sucked in air. “C’mon. Let’s get you ready.”
She helped Reese with the last few things. She folded a sweatshirt, handed over a charger, and tucked a forgotten toothbrush into a side pocket. Ordinary motions, muscle memory filling the space where words felt too big.
At the door, Reese hesitated, one hand on the handle. “You’ll be there in a few days,” she said, more statement than question.
“I arrive on Thursday,” Sloane replied. “Not too bad, right?”
“Any time away from you is rough,” Reese said, misting up. “Ah, shit.” She looked at the ceiling and shook her head, smiling at her own obvious emotion. “Turns out I’m a softy.”
“I won’t tell the other drivers.”
“I’m forever indebted.” Reese took a breath. “Will I see you at my first race?”
“Are you kidding? Front row if they’ll let me. I plan to be obnoxious.”
Reese smiled, relief flickering across her face. “Good. I want to hear you yell my name.”
“You will,” Sloane said. She meant it in every possible way.
Reese leaned in and kissed her. Slow this time, unhurried, like she was memorizing the feel of Sloane’s mouth, the shape of her sigh. Sloane slid her hands up Reese’s arms, grounding herself in the warmth of her, the simple fact of her being here now.
“Hey,” Reese murmured against her lips. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll be careful. Promise.”
Sloane swallowed. She’d learned long ago not to ask for promises no one could keep. “I know you will,” she said instead. “And you’re ready. You always have been.”
Reese searched her face, like she was looking for something, trying to decode how Sloane really felt. Sloane let herself smile, real and honest, even as something tight coiled in her midsection.
They stood there another beat, arms wrapped around each other, neither quite willing to be the first to let go.
Then Reese kissed Sloane’s temple. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Sloane said back, the words anchoring her.
Reese finally stepped onto the porch, bag slung over her shoulder, suitcase waiting at her side. She turned back once more, eyes bright and full. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”
“It damn well is, and you should memorize every moment. Text me when you land,” Sloane said.
“Of course. And a whole lot before that. Bye.”
The door closed quietly behind her.
Sloane stood there for a moment longer, listening to Reese’s footsteps fade, the apartment settling into stillness around her. In a few days, she’d be trackside again, headset on, heart in her throat, cheering for Reese with everything she had.
She pressed her hands together once more, anchoring herself.
Excitement first, she reminded herself.
Fear could wait.