Page 72 of Speed Crush

He exhales through his nose. “They live in California. Still technically married. Still technically interested in my career. But mostly they’re just… distant. They send me articles. Show up at fundraisers. I think they believe their job was done once I could dress myself and win races.”

I shift even closer toward him, folding my leg up on the seat. I rest my chin lightly on his shoulder, just for a second, before I say quietly, “That must be hard.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but I feel his body relaxes beside me.

“It must be nice to have parents like Mack and Vicky,” he says softly.

I turn toward him, letting the weight of his words settle. He’s not just being kind—he’s revealing something deeper. His longing from within.

I squeeze his hand. “I guess you don't know my story through the Cedar Falls grapevine.” My voice so quiet it nearly disappears into the cabin murmur.

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

I run my thumb over the seam of the armrest. “Mack and Vicky... they’re not my biological parents."

His whole body stills.

"They’re my real parents, in every way that matters. But I was left at the Cedar Falls firehouse when I was a baby.”

Noah lets out a breath—a quiet, startled sound—and I feel him subtly brace beside me, like he’s holding himself still for whatever comes next.

“Just a bundle,” I whisper. “Swaddled in a blanket. No note. No name. Just a small handwritten tag tied around my ankle with my birth date.”

I look down at our joined hands, and my throat tightens. It’s not the kind of story you ever get used to saying out loud.

“I’ve known it my whole life. Mack and Vicky told me when I was old enough to understand—because they wanted me to hear it from them, their version. The one where love found me first. Before the world could turn it into something else.”

I pause. Breathe.

“They were volunteering at the firehouse that night. A fireman heard something by the door and found me there, swaddled and alone. From the tag, I was just a few days old.”

My voice goes soft, but steady.

“And when no one else stepped up, Mack and Vicky did. No hesitation. Just heart.”

I smile faintly, even as my eyes sting.

“They said, ‘We’ll take her.’”

“Mack and Vicky named me Juniper because the bushes outside the fire station were blooming that week,” I say softly. “Something alive. Something unexpected.”

My voice wavers. I try to breathe through it.

“They said I was a gift. But some days…” My throat tightens. “On the worst days growing up, I was reminded that I was a discard—something someone didn’t want or know how to keep.”

His throat moves as he swallows. And I feel his heart thumps faster as his fingers reach for mine.

“And even though no one ever came back for me, the town still called me the Miracle Baby. There were even stories papers, and a fundraiser."

“Mack and Vicky fostered me on the very day I was found” I say. “Eventually, when all the legal paperwork went though, they adopted me. They raised me. Loved me. Saved me.”

Silence stretches. Heavy.

Then he leans in. Just slightly. Just enough.

He reaches out—his fingers brushing my cheek, then curling around my hand like he needs the contact to breathe. His other arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me gently against his side.

“I’m so glad Mack and Vicky were there for you,” he says quietly. “I don’t even want to imagine what your life would’ve been like without them.”

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