Chapter fifty
Sawyer
Aloud pounding on the door startles me, making me jump and nearly drop my mug.
When it starts up again, I peek down the hall.
Someone’s at the front door.
I slowly make my way toward the sound, not sure I actually want to open the door. This is Noah’s house, after all. But the snow has resumed, and it’s coming down hard again. If someone’s here, it would be best not to leave them out in the cold.
Mercer emerges from his room and follows me, placing a hand low on my back. He’s shirtless—yum—and wearing his big noise-canceling headphones around his neck. “Is someone here?”
“I guess. Should we wait for Noah?”
The knocking starts up again, making me wince.
“I’ll get it,” Mercer skirts around me to take the lead.
As we approach the foyer, Tytus rounds the corner from the living room looking freshly showered. He’s got gauze and medical tape in hand, like he was preparing to rebandage his incisions.
“I’ll help with that,” I say softly, folding into his side as Mercer punches a code into the alarm panel by the door.
“Jesus H,” he mutters when another round of knocking begins. “Hold on.”
Heavy footsteps echo behind us, and Noah appears, wearing sweats and an unbuttoned flannel that shows off his thick chest.
Damn. I’m certainly not going to complain about the state of everyone’s undress.
Cursing, Mercer finally swings the door open. We’re met with a whole crowd of people, all bundled up in hats, scarfs, and hoods. My heart lurches. The winter gear makes it hard to discern the identities of our visitors, but as I look closer, I find faces I recognize.
Cam. Kai. Bryant. Arjun.
A few hockey players—Swayzee, Haas, and Tanvers.
Then smack in the middle, a face I probably know better than my own.
Atty.
“Get inside the house.” Noah shoulders past Mercer and ushers the group in. “It’s freezing out here, and the stairs are still covered in snow. Last thing I need is someone else getting hurt on my property.”
The gang dutifully files into the foyer, with Atty bringing up the rear.
“Do I want to know why almost everyone in this house is shirtless?” Arjun jokes.
Cam snorts.
Bryant presses his lips together, but his eyes dance with laughter.
I pull a face, about to protest, but then I look to each of my guys. My shirtless or mostly shirtless guys. Okay, fine. He has a point.
The foyer is crowded and chaotic as our friends kick off their boots, remove their gloves, and unzip their jackets.
Atty homes in on me where I stand by the stairs to stay out of the fray. He shifts around the group, shouldering past everyone until he’s standing by my side.
“You’re here?” he demands, agitation rolling off him. “Have you been here the entire time?”
I’m here? Why is he so worked up about that? Honestly, I should be asking him why he’s here.
