I smiled, watched her walk away, and stopped myself from asking if she was happy to see me too. My life was complicated. I had been in the friend zone my entire life. I had a kid now. I had parents up my ass making life harder for all of us and stopping by soon. I started another season that would be long and brutal. I was in no place to do a damn thing about these feelings, but one thing was certain. My crush on Em hadn’t gone away at all.
It had only increased.
11
EM
By the time afternoon rolled around, the air in the condo felt sharp with nerves.
Noah had been pacing the length of the kitchen since lunch, checking his phone every few minutes, jaw tight enough to crack a tooth. Miles was sprawled on the living room rug with Sassy, pretending to build a racetrack out of couch cushions. I’d spent the morning trying to keep things light, but my nerves were like sitting on a live wire.
He hadn’t said much, but he didn’t need to. Every muscle in his body said it for him.
His parents were coming.
And not justcoming—they were coming with intent, with a plan, with something they could hand him on paper. I didn’t know the background and didn’t want to ask. I was used to being the peacekeeper, and I could replicate that here too. I made jokes, kept things light.
At four-thirty, I saw it happen—the switch. He went from anxious to calm, the kind of quiet that wasn’t peace at all, just control. His hands were steady when he grabbed his keys and said, “Stay in with Miles, okay? I’ll meet them in the lobby.”
He didn’t ask. Hetoldme.
I nodded. “Got it.”
He exhaled, rubbed the back of his neck, and forced a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t let him worry. Please. He doesn’t… know this.”
“Not a chance.” I kept my voice even, though my stomach started twisting. I also didn’t know what this was, but I knew enough about shielding kids from hard shit. I hid the stress and pain from my two younger siblings when my mom had her stroke and my dad had an affair. I was happy all the time, performing, really. I knew this role well and slid into it easily.
When the elevator doors closed behind him, the silence left behind was deafening. Even Sassy lifted her head, whining softly like she could feel the tension too.
Miles looked up from his fortress of couch cushions. “Is Uncle Noah okay? Where did he go?”
I knelt beside him, brushing a hand through his hair. “He’s just talking to his mom and dad, remember? Grown-up stuff. Boring stuff.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Like taxes?”
I chuckled. “Exactly like taxes.”
He giggled, then went back to stacking pillows, thankfully satisfied with the answer. I kept an eye on the clock, pretending to scroll through my phone while my ears strained for any sound from the hallway. Five minutes. Then ten. Then fifteen.
By the time the elevator dinged, my heart was in my throat.
Noah came in first. His parents followed far enough to stop at the threshold. His mom was dressed in one of those expensive coats that looked more like armor than clothing, her hair perfect even in the gust of cold air from the hallway. His dad looked like he’d come straight from the office—pressed shirt, eyes sharp.
The tension hit the room like smoke.
“Noah,” his mom said, and there was a brittle edge to her tone. “You should’ve had us over sooner. We need to talk.”
“I told you I’d talk,” he said, his tone low but steady. “Not in front of Miles.”
His dad crossed his arms. “You don’t get to control that. We’re family. You don’t shut us out.”
“I’m not shutting you out,” Noah said, moving half a step forward, blocking their view of the living room. “You can see him. But not today. Not until we’re on the same page.”
His mom sighed, glancing past him into the condo. “You look tired. This isn’t sustainable. You’re traveling half the year, juggling a child, a career?—”
“I’m managing,” he said tightly.
“Barely,” his father cut in. “We filed the paperwork because you won’t listen, son. We can provide stability. A schedule. He needs structure. Nat would hate this.”
