Page 70 of Hot Lap
Reece shakes his head. "I slept just fine."
"You dreamed, then." She logs the data. "Your pulse spiked twice between four and five."
He doesn’t answer.
She looks at him, sharp and calm, and dead-on. Nothing escapes her and she proves it with her next statement. "You left without inviting her to the track."
He stares at the wall for a beat too long. "I didn’t want to wake her."
"That’s bullshit."
He meets her dark gaze. “Yeah, it is. Now, let's focus on the drive, shall we?”
She presses her lips together, but doesn’t push him. Instead, she hands him a protein shake and starts prepping his neck harness. They’ll spend an hour firing up his body and mind. "Focus on your lines today. Your brain’s carrying noise. Clean it up before FP1."
Reece nods and sips his liquid breakfast and tries not to think about a beautiful blonde wearing only black lingerie.
After stretching and a track run, he changes into his fireproofs and his race suit, then heads into Nitro’s garage.
Cool and controlled despite the heat outside, the space is its own ecosystem. Fans hum, monitors flicker, tools clink in practiced rhythm.
“You're late.” Misho’s focused on a computer screen, eyes not leaving the data scroll.
“I’m three minutes early.”
“Which is late for you.” He looks up, eyebrow raised. “You miss your alarm or your girl?”
Reece just zips up his suit.
His race engineer steps closer, crossing his arms. “You’re off.”
Reece frowns. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You’re on the pace, but you’re not sharp.”
“I’m focused.”
Misho snorts. “You’re distracted. Big difference.” He holds Reece’s gaze, calm but unrelenting. “You’ve got too many windows open in your head.” Misho taps his own temple. “Close all of them except the one with the apex in it.”
Reece exhales, short and sharp. “Sorted.” His race engineer is right. Reece’s priority needs to be finding the best racing line into each corner and maximizing his on-track speed. Everything happening off-track will have to wait.
Misho nods, then jerks his thumb toward the car. “Good. Because Asuka’s in a mood today, and if you throw off her run plan, she’ll skin us both.”
When the time comes, Reece straps into the car and everything sharpens.
Helmet on. Hands on the wheel. He locks in, breathing slow and steady as the mechanics move around him, finishing checks, tightening his harness. His world narrows to throttle, brake, apex.
He needs this. Needs the clarity the car gives him.
“Radio check,” Misho says in his ear.
“Loud and clear.”
“We’ll run the first block on mediums. Let’s get clean laps and a feel for the surface.”
“Understood.”
The team lowers the car to the tarmac, and Miguel directs him out of the garage.
