For a moment, I thought they might push. That they mightsay something else, something worse. That they might reach for him.
Then Noah’s father nodded once, curt and cold.
“This isn’t over,” he said. They turned and walked out, the bell chiming softly behind them, absurdly cheerful, like nothing catastrophic had happened.
The second the door closed, my legs gave out.
Daniel was there instantly, crouching beside me, his hand solid and grounding at my back. The shop suddenly felt enormous. Exposed. Like the walls had thinned.
Miles clung to me, arms tight around my neck, his small body trembling. “Did I do something wrong?” he whispered.
“No, buddy, not at all,” I said fiercely, holding him closer than I ever had. “Never. You did nothing wrong.”
I didn’t cry. Not yet. But as I held him, one thought burned through everything else, sharp and relentless.
They weren’t not coming for Noah first. They were coming forme.
And for the first time since this all began, hope cracked under the weight of what loving Noah might cost. I refused to be the reason Noah lost Miles. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
God, almost right on cue, my phone buzzed with Noah’s name.
Noah: miss you guys already. Did the TV show up yet?
I stared at my phone, hating myself because it was like my mind knew what I had to do before my heart. The serving papers from his parents were in one hand, my phone in the other. I had a choice to make, and because I loved them both so much, I’d do whatever I needed to ensure Miles and Noah were safe.
32
NOAH
Iwoke up before my alarm, staring at the ceiling of the hotel room while the city hummed somewhere far below the window. The room smelled like detergent and burnt coffee, the same way every away-game hotel did, and my body already felt ready. Legs heavy but loose. Shoulders tight in a familiar way. Hands flexing, anticipating contact for the game.
Game days always stripped things down. There wasn’t room for overthinking when your job depended on timing and trust and knowing exactly where your hands belonged. Still, my mind kept drifting where it shouldn’t—back to the shop, to Em, to the way she looked at me and told me she loved me.
Em Sanders. My dream girl. My forever crush. Twenty-year-old me would never have believed this, and I was smiling like a damn fool about it. I reached for my phone before I could stop myself.
There was a message waiting.
Em: Good luck today. I’m so proud of you.
Pride hit me hard and fast, sharper than adrenaline. Without overthinking, I grabbed my phone and hit record, sending her an audio message.
“Hey, would you believe that I woke up with the goofiest smile on my face? Like, dork status. My cheeks hurt from grinning. I don’t even recognize myself. I have you to thank for that, Em. Since Nat died, I’ve just felt…lost. Confused. Angry at the situation. Here I was, twenty-six, now a parent and in a battle with my own parents. My life changed, and I didn’t know what to do, but then came you. I just…I love you so much, Em. I can’t wait to get back, and next away game, I swear to GOD you’re coming with. I can’t take this. Send me photos today, okay? I’d love to look at them on the flight back tonight. Oh, I’m busting out the cowboy hat again for pre-game entrance. I even added a little ES on the side.”
I laughed and ran a hand over my face, blushing at how silly I was being.
“Anyway, have fun at the shop today. Daniel is installing the TV so you should be able to watch with Miles. I guess I should get moving. I bet Sassy is wagging her tail already. Hey, when I get back, let’s talk about the future. I have something I wanna ask you.”
I stopped it and sent it before second-guessing myself. I wanted her to stay with us, live with us. There was no reason she had to go back if she was comfortable with us. Hell, she could have her own room for her things if she needed that. I wanted to see her every day. I could convince her and be patient. If she needed time to think, then I wouldn’t push.
Grinning, I gently pushed her from my mind and went into game mode. Play my ass off, then get home to her.
The stadium swallowed us the second we stepped inside, the noise echoing off concrete and steel. The air smelled like turf and sweat and something metallic, familiar enough that my shoulders loosened. I dropped my duffel at my locker and started changing, pads sliding into place, straps pulled tight, movements so automatic my brain finally shut up and let my body take over. I loved this part, where I shed everything else inmy life and became Noah Abbott on the field. A machine. A beast.
Coach Booth walked in, nodding at the guys as music blared. His gaze landed right on me, his face firm and not giving anything away.
“Abbott, walk with me.”
A few heads turned, but having a one-on-one with Booth wasn’t unheard of. My pulse spiked with what-ifs as I followed Booth into the hallway. The noise faded as the door shut behind us, replaced by the low hum of the stadium beyond the walls. Booth stopped near the tunnel, arms crossed, studying me.
