CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
◆◆◆
Mia
The first four races of the season passed in a blaze. Lucas was on fire—pole in Melbourne, dominant win in Jeddah, another in Suzuka after a wheel-to-wheel masterclass with the championship favourite. The paddock buzzed with it: He’s back. The old Lucas is back.
Mia watched from the Ascari garage, headset on, feeding Etienne calm, precise notes while the big screens showed Lucas crossing the line again and again.
She felt the pride rise in her chest like a tide—quiet, fierce, unasked for.
He’d rebuilt himself. She could see it in every clean apex, every perfectly timed DRS zone.
The way he held the car through high-speed corners, the way his radio voice had that old edge of hunger again.
She was proud of him in a way that hurt, because pride like that didn’t fade just because the story had ended.
It lingered, sharp and tender, a reminder of what they’d once built together—and what she’d walked away from.
Ascari was finishing well too—solid points haul, P8 in the constructors’ after Japan, with Eddie scraping a P9 and Etienne a P6 in China despite a dodgy gearbox.
Etienne was maturing race by race, listening more, oversteering less.
The kid had a gamer’s reflexes—quick hands, fearless aggression—but he was learning patience, and Mia liked the small victories.
She liked coming out of debriefs knowing she’d helped without anyone needing to shout about it.
No drama, no spotlight glare, just steady work that mattered.
* * *
After the Chinese Grand Prix, the teams converged on Shanghai’s team hotel for the short turnaround. Mia was crossing the lobby with Etienne—him in a hoodie and cap pulled low, her in jeans and a team jacket—when a teenage girl in an Ascari cap spotted him.
“Etienne!” she squealed, bouncing on her toes. “Can I get an autograph? I watch all your streams! You’re so good at Apex Legends—teach me how to take the corners like you!”
Etienne grinned—boyish, easy, the kind of charm that made young fans adore him. “Hey! Yeah, of course.” He took her phone, signed the case with a quick flourish, posed for a selfie. “Keep grinding those licence points, yeah? See you in the chat.”
The girl beamed, clutching her phone like treasure, and scampered off.
Mia smiled despite herself. “You’re basically a rock star to the gamer girls.”
Etienne shrugged, sheepish. “It’s weird, right? I just play games and drive fast. They think it’s cool.”
“It is cool,” she said.
They kept walking—until she saw Lucas step out of the lift.
He looked tired in the way drivers only did after a triple-header: eyes shadowed, shoulders still carrying the weight of the weekend.
But when he spotted her, something shifted.
A small, unguarded smile broke across his face—then his gaze flicked to Etienne at her side, and it faltered.
A flash of something sharper crossed his features: eyes narrowing just a fraction, jaw tightening.
Jealousy, raw and unbidden, before he could mask it.
“Mia,” he said, voice even but with an edge she recognised.
“Lucas.”
Etienne glanced between them, oblivious, then grinned. “Hey, champ. Nice win today. You’re making the rest of us look bad.”
Lucas’s eyes stayed on Etienne a beat too long, assessing, before he forced a nod. “You’re not doing too badly yourself. P6 today—clean drive.”
Etienne shrugged, boyish pride lighting his face. “Mia’s fault. She’s been drilling me on media answers for weeks. I actually sound like I know what I’m talking about now.”
Lucas’s gaze shifted back to Mia, the tension easing slowly as he watched the easy, sibling-like way Etienne leaned toward her—like a little brother seeking approval, not a lover staking a claim. The jealousy faded, replaced by reluctant understanding. Nothing there. Just work. Just trust.
“She’s good at that,” Lucas said, voice softening.
Mia felt the old ease slip back between them, effortless and aching. “You were impossible at first,” she said, half-laughing despite the knot in her throat. “Remember Silverstone? You went live on the team channel and called the strategy ‘a complete shitshow’ before I could cut the feed.”
Lucas winced, then chuckled—a real one, low and warm. “I still owe you for that one. You had to spend three days putting out fires.”
“Four,” she corrected, smiling despite herself, the memory pulling at her heart. “But you learned. Eventually.”
They were both laughing now—quiet, shared memory—and for a second the lobby faded. Just the two of them remembering how hard it had been, how good it had felt when it finally clicked. The air between them thickened, charged with the remnants of what they’d been.
Then a soft voice cut through.
“Lucas?”
Sienna appeared from the direction of the bar, elegant in a simple cream dress, hair loose over her shoulders. She slipped her hand into Lucas’s without hesitation, smiling brightly at Mia and Etienne.
“Hi,” she said, extending her other hand to Mia. “I’m Sienna. You must be Mia. I’ve heard… well, a lot.”
Mia shook her hand—warm, firm, friendly.
But the touch sent a jolt through her: jealousy, sharp and unwelcome, twisting in her gut.
Not because Sienna was cruel or smug; she wasn’t.
She was just… there. Oblivious in the gentle way people are when they’re happy and secure.
She looked at Lucas like he was hers, and he let her.
Mia’s chest tightened, the old ache flaring bright.
“Nice to finally meet you properly,” Mia said, her voice steady but her heart pounding.
Sienna tilted her head, smile genuine. “I’ve seen you in the paddock before.
Back when Lucas and I were first together.
You were always so good with him—kept him out of trouble.
I remember thinking you two had a… thing.
Not in a bad way. Just… you got him. I never really did.
” She laughed softly, self-aware. “Media made it sound like you broke us up. I know that’s rubbish.
We were already done. But the headlines love a story. ”
Mia swallowed. “They do.”
Sienna squeezed Lucas’s hand, oblivious to the undercurrent. “Anyway. It’s nice to put a face to the name properly. You’re doing great with Ascari. Etienne’s looking sharp.”
“Thanks,” Mia managed.
The awkwardness settled like dust. Etienne excused himself with a quick “Gonna grab a protein shake—see you tomorrow, boss,” leaving the three of them in the quiet lobby hum.
Then footsteps—loud, familiar. Jax appeared from the bar corridor, coffee in one hand, grin splitting his face.
“There’s my podium buddy!” He slapped Lucas on the back hard enough to make him wince. “And—wait, is that Mia Brookes? In the flesh?”
Mia laughed despite herself. “In the flesh.”
Jax threw an arm around her shoulders—loose, brotherly. “You’re looking too good for this place. Ascari treating you right?”
“Better than Ashworth ever did,” she teased.
Jax clutched his chest. “Ouch. Straight to the heart.” He glanced at Sienna, then Lucas, then back to Mia—quick, assessing. “Right. I’m interrupting something. I’ll leave you to it.”
He squeezed Mia’s shoulder once—gentle, reassuring—then clapped Lucas on the back again.
He walked off whistling.
Sienna laughed softly. “He’s fun.”
“He is,” Mia agreed.
Lucas’s eyes lingered on the spot where Jax had disappeared. Then back to Mia. The tension eased—just a fraction.
Mia prompted, voice soft, “I’ve been dying to ask—how are the wedding plans coming along?”
Sienna lit up. “Oh, it’s all happening so fast. Mid-winter, right after the season ends. Lakeside in Italy—Como, actually. Snow on the mountains, floating lanterns over the water. It’s going to be magical.”
Mia nodded, forcing her smile to stay even, her throat tight. “Sounds beautiful.”
“I really wanted to do it at Lucas’s villa in Nice,” Sienna went on, glancing up at him with playful reproach.
“Right on the Med, sunset over the water. The pictures look spectacular for the gram. But he wasn’t keen.
Said it was too… I don’t know, predictable?
He hasn’t even taken me there yet. I keep teasing him that he’s hiding some secret lair full of old trophies. ”
She laughed again, light and teasing.
Lucas’s jaw tightened—more than a fraction this time. Mia caught it. Their eyes met over Sienna’s head.
A look. One single loaded second that stretched into eternity.
Their villa. The summer they’d spent there—lazy mornings tangled in sheets, evenings on the balcony with wine and laughter, nights when the world narrowed to just the two of them, skin on skin, no cameras, no contracts, no future they had to plan around.
It had been theirs. A private place. A sanctuary.
He hadn’t taken Sienna there.
And he wouldn’t. Mia saw it in his eyes—the quiet refusal, the lingering claim on that piece of their past. The knowledge hit her like a wave: relief, pain, a fierce, unspoken connection that made her breath catch.
They were both hurting, both pretending, both holding onto something neither could name.
Lucas looked away first, clearing his throat. “The lake’s better for winter,” he said to Sienna, voice gentle but final, a touch strained.
Sienna squeezed his arm, unaware of the undercurrent. “I know. I’m just impatient.”
Mia swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’ll be perfect,” she said quietly. “Wherever it is.”
Sienna beamed. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”
A beat of silence, heavy with everything unsaid. Then Lucas spoke, his voice rougher than before.
“You heading up?”
Mia nodded, not trusting herself to say more. “Early flight tomorrow.”
“Safe travels,” he said. The words carried more weight than they should have—regret, care, the echo of old goodbyes.
“You too. Good luck in Miami.”
He gave a small nod, eyes lingering on her face. “Thanks.”
Sienna waved. “Nice seeing you, Mia. Really.”
“You too.”
They walked toward the lifts. Mia watched them go—Lucas’s hand at the small of Sienna’s back, protective, automatic. But she saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his steps were just a fraction slower.
She stood there a moment longer, the lobby lights soft overhead, her heart pounding in her ears.
The jealousy burned, dull and persistent. But so was the pride. So was the quiet certainty that she’d done the right thing walking away, even if it still hurt to breathe sometimes.
And underneath it all, the look they’d shared—a silent acknowledgment that some places, some memories, belonged only to them.
She turned toward her own lift, pressed the button, and let the doors close behind her.
* * *
Lucas
The doors of the lift slid shut with a soft chime, and the space felt suddenly hollow.
Lucas stood still, Sienna’s hand warm in his, her thumb brushing his knuckles absently.
He could still see the exact place Mia had been—arms folded, chin up, that small, steady smile she wore when she was bracing herself.
The way her eyes had locked on his over Sienna’s head when the villa came up.
One second. And it had cut straight through him.
He hadn’t taken Sienna to Nice. He never would.
That villa wasn’t just a house. It was Mia—coffee in bed at dawn, her laughing at his terrible French when ordering dinner, falling asleep on the balcony with her head on his chest while the sea whispered below.
The only place in his life that had ever felt completely his.
Completely theirs. Untouched by sponsors, family legacy, or the weight of expectation.
Handing that over—even to someone as uncomplicated as Sienna—felt wrong. Like betraying something sacred.
He exhaled slowly, forcing his shoulders down.
Sienna glanced up. “You okay? You went quiet.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Long weekend. Triple-header legs.”
She accepted it with a small nod. “Come on. Let’s get you to the room. You need sleep before Miami.”
They walked down the corridor. Her arm slipped through his. He let it happen. But his mind stayed in the lobby, replaying Mia’s quiet “Good luck in Miami,” the way her voice had cracked just enough to notice.
Sienna leaned into him. “She seems nice. Mia.”
“She is,” Lucas said quietly.
Sienna didn’t push.
She paused outside their door. “You sure you’re okay?”
He nodded, kissed her forehead. “I’m fine.”
She searched his face a second longer, then went inside.
Lucas followed.
He crossed to the window, looked out at Shanghai glittering below.
He thought about the villa again.
He pressed his forehead to the cool glass.
The season was young.
There was still racing to do.
He exhaled, long and slow.
Tomorrow he’d race. Tomorrow he’d keep moving forward.