I tugged on sweats and a hoodie, grabbed Sassy’s leash, and slipped out of my room quietly. The condo was still dark. Em’s door was shut, the soft glow of her nightlight bleeding under the edge. Miles’s room was silent except for the white noise machine humming away. I walked down the hall, Sassy trotting beside me excited to be let out. I’d never say it to Em, but I hated the thought of her walking Sassy alone outside before the sun came up. I’d gladly do this for her every night and day. I wanted to do this for her.
Outside, the air was sharp and the sidewalks were empty except for the guy who always jogged with terrible form around the block. Sassy wagged and sniffed her way down the street, stopping every few feet to inspect something only she cared about.
My mind wouldn’t quit.
I’d always been the friend. The safe dude. The guy who drove people home and carried their crap and didn’t make moves because I didn’t want to mess anything up. In college, girls trusted me with everything except the part where they wanted me. I learned to live with that. I made peace with it. Then when I got big with the NFL, girls wanted me, but it was for fame. Sure, I had fun, but none of them were Em.
Em had never beensomegirl. She was…the fucking one. And now I couldn’t screw up the one chance I had. I refused.
Back at the condo, Sassy bounded inside and immediately nudged her bowl. I fed her, made breakfast for Miles, then pulled out the pan again and made something for Em. I movedquietly through the kitchen and started packing lunches. Miles’s was easy—fruit, crackers, a sandwich the way he liked, and the granola bar he swore made him faster. I hesitated before grabbing a second container and started filling one for Em too. She always said she’d grab something later, but later usually meant nothing except coffee. If I could make her morning a little easier, I was going to. She always said she hated having to tell guys to do things for her, and I knew her.
I was sealing the lid when soft footsteps came down the hall. My heart thudded as they neared the kitchen, and that was when I heard a soft, “Noah?”
I turned.
She stood there in the doorway, hair sticking up on one side, eyes half-lidded behind her glasses, drowning in pajamas she definitely didn’t intend to be seen in. My hoodie hung off one shoulder. She looked warm and soft and sleepy in a way that knocked the air clean out of my chest.
My brain short-circuited. That was the only explanation.
“Morning,” I said, and my voice cracked like I was fifteen. Great. Real smooth.
She blinked, her pretty eyes all sleepy. And I swore they lit up while she stared at me. “You’re…up early.”
“Yeah.” I held up the container like a shield. “Packing lunch. I gotta head into the stadium all day. I let Sassy out for you, so she’s good.”
Em smiled, her eyes crinkling on the sides as she neared me. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but her and I have an understanding.”
On cue, the dog rested her head on my foot. Something tugged at my chest, the same possessive feeling I had about Em shifting toward Sassy. I didn’t want the dog, or Em, to ever leave this apartment.
Em jutted her chin toward the counter, bringing my thoughts back to normal. “That for Miles?”
“And you.” The second the words left my mouth, heat climbed up my neck. “Only if you want it. You don’t have to. It’s there if—yeah.”
She stared at the container, then at me, then back again, a cute little line forming between her brows. “Wait, you made me lunch?” Her voice was tiny and very awake now.
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling every inch of embarrassment prickling under my skin. “Just figured you’d have a long day. Thought it might help.”
A slow, warm flush crept across her cheeks. She didn’t hide it.
“That’s…really nice,” she said quietly. “Thank you, Noah.”
Hearing my name like that—soft, careful—did something to me I wasn’t prepared for. My chest tightened, and I had to glance away before I did something stupid like stare at her mouth again.
She padded closer, still sleepy, still tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie. “Miles still asleep?”
“For now. I’ll wake him in a minute.” I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “You can go back to bed if you want. I know you were up.”
She shook her head, yawning into her hand. “No, I’m up. Maybe not upright mentally, but physically I’m here.”
I huffed a laugh, relieved she sounded like herself. “Barely.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Careful. I’m emotionally fragile in the mornings.”
That shouldn’t have hit me as hard as it did.
I wanted to pull her in, kiss her forehead, ask how she slept, ask if she thought about last night as much as I did. But I couldn’t push. Not yet. Not when the air between us was so new and fragile and full.
