Page 90 of Speed Crush

The words hit me hard. Not perfect. Not a promise. But it’s something. It’s real. And it makes something shift in my chest—tight and aching in the best way.

My whole body reacts to her answer, to the hope she just gave me. It's more than I expected, and exactly what I needed. I squeeze her hand, and it takes everything not to drag her into my arms, kiss her until she forgets to breathe.

She bites her lip. Then gets serious. “You know I can’t just quit teaching. The school year’s only halfway done. There’s still another five months ahead—but with the breaks in between, like Presidents’ Day, spring break, maybe even a couple long weekends… maybe that’s enough. A real window to see how this could work. Maybe it’s a good trial period—for us.”

Hope punches me in the chest. I reach out and gently smooth my fingers through her silky black hair, tucking it behind her ear. She leans into the touch, and my heart nearly stumbles in my chest.

“You’d really consider coming with me?” I ask.

She nods slowly. "Maybe. Italy was fast—just a flash—but I liked it. I liked seeing you in that world. The tech. The speed. The way your brain shifts gears like it's part of the machine. And I like traveling. I pack light. But I felt something there... like maybe this could work."

I cup her jaw, tilt her face to mine, and she reaches up, placing her palm right over my heart. The gesture is simple—but it levels me.

"Thank you," she whispers, eyes searching mine. "For all of it. But especially for meaning it."

Her hand stays there, steady. And for a second, the world goes quiet around us.

"Thank you for trying to show me how serious you are. But, Noah… I don’t need the land. I just need you."

Her words gut me in the best way—because they’re real. Honest. Pure June.

“You have me,” I say softly.

She nods. “Then I’m in. Not because of what’s on paper. Because of what I felt in Italy. Because of what I feel right now. With you.”

I nuzzle into her neck, breathing her in like I need her in my lungs. "I'm so glad," I whisper, the words sinking into her skin. "So damn glad."

Then I kiss her collarbone, slow and reverent, letting my hands explore the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist. I take my time, tasting her, touching her, letting the heat between us build all over again. This time, there’s no rush—just the soft rhythm of skin against skin, her breath mingling with mine as I slide into her with aching tenderness.

We make love slowly, completely. Every kiss, every thrust, is a promise.

And when she falls asleep in my arms, curled into me like she’s made to fit there, I know.

Whatever comes next—we’ve already started building it.

And I know I’ve never wanted anything more than this.

Chapter 16

The Finish Line

June

I’mparkedinthearrivals lane at Denver International Airport, watching the automatic doors like they’re about to spill out something precious. Which, let’s be honest—they absolutely are.

My fingers drum against the steering wheel, my pulse flaring like I’ve been shot with espresso. But this isn’t caffeine jitters. This is the Noah Verelli effect. Back in the USA. Mine.

It’s wild how fast that happened—how fastwehappened. Just three months ago, he was a stranger. A fast-talking F1 legend from a different world. And now I’m sitting here, vibrating with nerves like I’ve been waiting a lifetime to see his face again.

It’s over three weeks since I last saw him in person. Three weeks of sim work, night testing in Spain, and track sessions in Tokyo—and now he’s back, just as Cedar Falls starts blooming. Warm sun, soft wind, the scent of damp earth and daffodils—it feels like everything’s waking up again. Including me.

He’s here now on a short little break before pre-season goes into full gear. Every bit of pun intended, thank you very much.

I spot him before he sees me—walking like the sidewalk should clear for him, all tall, unhurried confidence and jet-lagged swagger. His carry-on rolls behind him like a well-controlled puppy, happy to be trailing him.

I notice his hair’s longer than the last time, curling at the ends in a way that makes my fingers twitch to touch it. The beanie only makes him hotter, somehow. He’s layered in a hoodie and a sports coat, the kind of rumpled and rugged that looks entirely intentional.

My breath catches, heart thudding against my ribs like it’s trying to outrun reason. Every part of me feels pulled toward him—like gravity recalibrated just for this moment. And judging by the side glances he’s collecting from everyone he passes, I’m not the only one staring.

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