Page 10

Nothing from Maiken. What did he expect? A honeymoon text? A love letter from 35,000 feet? He drags a hand down his face.

Ona has left a tray of food beside him, some kind of light chicken dish with vegetables, and another bottle of water. The green concoction, thankfully, is gone. His head still throbs, but the edge has dulled to a manageable ache rather than the sledgehammer Graham left in his wake.

Across the aisle, Petra is curled into a near-impossible position, somehow managing to look both elegant and childlike as she dozes.

Her pink-streaked hair falls across her face, reminding him of when they first met — her, racing royalty with something to prove; him, a teenager who'd just discovered he could turn fast laps into fortune.

Now they're both veterans, wearing team expectations like second skin.

Farther up the cabin, Ona and Cin are sharing headphones connected to Cin's laptop, both occasionally wincing or laughing at whatever they're watching. Probably competitor crashes. Or cat videos. It could be either.

Reece eats mechanically, not tasting much but knowing he needs the nutrition. When he's finished, he stands, stretches his back until something pops in his spine, then rolls his neck and shoulders. The familiar routine of loosening travel-stiff muscles grounds him.

Movement catches his eye. Reclining in his own seat with a glass of scotch beside him, Coy signals him with a tilt of his head.

No avoiding it now.

Reece crosses the cabin and drops into the seat opposite his team principal, bracing for the conversation he's been dreading since takeoff.

"How's the head?" Coy asks mildly, his English accent softened by years of international travel.

"Better than I deserve."

Coy makes a little sound of agreement. "And the rest of you?"

Reece considers deflecting but decides against it. Coy has always been straight with him; he owes the man the same courtesy. "Processing. Still not entirely sure what happened, to be honest."

Coy's mouth quirks. "Marriage will do that to you." He studies Reece for a long moment, then sighs. "Look, I'm not going to lecture you about impulse control or public image. You're not a child. You know what's at stake."

"I do. One hundred percent, Coy."

"Good." Coy steeples his fingers. “Nedry called while you were napping."

The Nedry’s own PNW Nitro. For reasons unknown, they’re referred to in the singular though they’re actually a married couple, Zain and Isabella Nedry.

Reece stiffens. "And?"

"The official position is 'hands off.' As long as she understands the protocols and your marriage doesn't become a distraction for you or the team, they consider it your business."

Relief washes through Reece, though he tries not to be obvious about it. "I appreciate that."

"Don't thank me yet. The unofficial position is 'damage control.' They're watching to see if this turns into a PR nightmare or affects your performance."

"It won't." Reece says that with more confidence than he feels.

"See that it doesn't. The sponsors are watching."

Reece exhales. "Lemme guess. AetherX is nervous?"

"Not nervous. Curious. Their CEO wants to know if Maiken’s the real deal. Publicly, they’re all about 'tech without the boys’ club,' but behind closed doors? They’re watching your every move to see if she’s ‘bold modern feminist’ or ‘impulsive wildcard liability’. Their words, not mine."

"Great."

"Vive Lux is split. The fashion team loves her. One of them floated a ‘burlesque-inspired’ capsule line. Their performance division, though? Less thrilled. They built their brand on precision and control. You marrying chaos doesn’t exactly match the core aesthetic."

Reece groans. "She’s not chaos."

"To them, she’s a rhinestone-encrusted live grenade."

"What about Hearthstone?"

Coy’s smile turns dry. "They’re eating it up. Calling your marriage 'an opportunity to celebrate lived experience and authentic narratives.' They said that with a straight face."

Reece pinches the bridge of his nose. "And VelvetChain?"

"Ecstatic. They’re drafting a pitch deck already."

"So my marriage is either a symbol of disruptive intimacy or a PR powder keg."

"Don’t act surprised." Coy's gaze softens. "How is your wife? Really?"

The question catches Reece off guard. It’s not the professional inquiry he expected. "Scared, I think. Angry. Definitely confused." He taps his finger against the armrest. "Graham barging in like that… total disaster. Didn't help the situation at all."

"Your father is particularly gifted at making situations worse." Coy’s dryness adds emphasis to that truth. They share a moment of silent understanding; both have long histories with the elder Pritchard. "You care about her?"

"Yes." Reece surprises himself with his certainty. "Absolutely, yes. Haven't figured out all the details yet, but that part's clear."

Coy nods. "Then give her space to process. Show her who you are through actions, not just promises." He pauses. "You know Nitro takes mental health seriously — yours and hers. If she needs support navigating this world she's suddenly been thrust into, we can arrange that."

This is why Reece respects Coy. While other teams treat drivers like interchangeable assets, Nitro was one of the first to employ sports psychologists and prioritize mental wellness alongside physical performance.

"Thank you." Reece means it. "I think we both might need that support before this is over."

"Marriage isn't a sprint, Reece. It's an endurance race with no checkered flag." Coy offers a small smile. "Take it from someone who knows the crash and burn all too well."

"Any advice?"

Coy’s gaze wanders, then snaps back to him. "Kelley and I had our own Vegas wedding, you know. Met at a sponsor event, married three weeks later. Everyone said I was an idiot for doing it, and they were right."

"But you had Petra."

"We did. Best thing that came out of it." Coy's expression turns wistful. "Doesn't mean it didn't hurt like hell when she left us both. Petra was only six, but not too young to feel the sting."

Reece nods, understanding the weight of this personal disclosure. Coy rarely speaks about Kelley Hayter-Morrison, who'd abandoned their family for a team owner and a lifestyle that didn't include a child or driver who might shunt into a wall at any moment.

"The difference between your situation and mine is Kelley wanted what she thought I could give her — glamour, access to richer opportunities, a lazy lifestyle. From what you've told us, Maiken didn't even know who you were."

"She didn't." Reece shakes his head. "Still barely does, I think."

"That's something, at least." Coy takes a sip of his scotch. "A foundation built on who you are, not what you do and what you can give her."

“That’s what made her different.” Reece grins. “Among other things.”

"Learn when to push and when to coast, Reece. Know when the other person needs to take the lead." Coy's brows arch. "And never, ever forget that apologies work better with flowers."

Reece chuckles. "Noted."

Coy nods and sips more scotch. "I've told PR to prepare a statement acknowledging the marriage but requesting privacy.

Nothing more until we've had time to meet her and assess the situation.

" He leans forward. "Whatever happened in Vegas — whether it was impulse or intuition — I trust your judgment.

You're not just a driver; you're a cornerstone of this team. We have your back."

The words settle the tension Reece has been carrying since he got that first warning text from Ona this morning. "Even when I make spectacular mistakes?"

"Especially then. The best drivers know that sometimes you have to take risks to win."

"Is that what this is? A win?"

Coy shrugs. "Too early to tell. However, anyone who can break through that armor of yours is someone I look forward to meeting."

"Are you two having a moment?" Behind them, Petra stirs and stretches. "I can take pictures if you want something for the Christmas card."

Coy smirks. "Go back to sleep, demon child."

"Can't. Too excited to meet my new bestie. Does she know what she's gotten into yet?"

Reece winces. "Working on that part."

"Mm. Good luck." Petra yawns. "Dad, when you're done with the heart-to-heart, I want to talk tire strategy."

"Always tires with you." Coy’s pride in his daughter is obvious. He turns back to Reece. "Are we good?"

Reece nods. "We're good. Thanks, Coy. Really appreciate the support here. It means a lot."

Nitro’s TP waves this away, and Reece stands, feeling lighter than he has since Maiken slammed the hotel room door.

Whatever happens next, he's not facing it alone. Now he just needs to convince his wife of the same.