Em grinned like a Cheshire cat, and they both giggled.
“Okay, good. No trouble. I hear Santa is taking notes all the way in September,” I said, ruffling Miles’s hair.
His eyes widened as he nodded, very seriously. “I’ll be good, Uncle Miles.”
“I know you will, kiddo. Now give me a hug. I have to head into the stadium all day today.”
He launched himself at me, and I breathed in his smell, taking in how small he was and how precious and wonderful this kid was. His hair tickled my chin, and I knew that despite whatever happened with Em, this kid was my priority. I had to put him first for the rest of my life, and I would do it gladly. “Love you, Miles.”
“You too!”
I stood, nodded at Em and left them in the kitchen. Football was my job, and I worked hard and loved it, but it was weird how it was mywholelife a few months ago. Now it felt like…my life was here in this kitchen. I shook the thought away, not having the time or energy to deal with these feelings. I’d need to make an appointment with Sloane soon. She’d know how to help me.
I got to my room as someone cleared their throat. I turned and found Em standing there, eyebrow arched.
“You were gonna leave andnodat me? No, no, no. Unacceptable. I want my hug, Noah. Give it to me.”
She closed the distance between us without hesitation, messy hair and sleep-soft eyes and my hoodie still hanging off her shoulder. Her arms slid around my neck like it was muscle memory, like she’d done this a hundred times before and never once questioned it.
I bent automatically and wrapped her up, lifting her off the floor because I always did and because it felt wrong not to. She fit against me perfectly—chest to chest, her cheek tucked into the hollow of my neck, her breath warm against my skin. I held her tighter than I meant to, my hand flattening against her back because I needed the contact. I wanted her against me.
God. This was dangerous.
She sighed into me, a quiet little sound that hit something deep in my chest. Not content. Not arousal. Something soft, like relief.
“Okay,” she murmured. “That’s better.”
I closed my eyes and rested my chin on the top of her head, breathing her in. She smelled like sleep and coffee and vanilla. The world felt steadier like this. Like if I stayed right here, nothing could go wrong.
I didn’t want to let go, but I didn’t say that out loud.
“This good?” I asked quietly, because I needed to hear her say it.
She nodded against me. “Yes, much better. Don’t rob me of my Noah hugs, please. It’s cruel.”
I chuckled, taking an extra beat to breathe her in and feel her warmth around me. Having her be pressed against me caused my heart to beat faster, my skin to tingle, and my stomach to swoop in ways I’d only experienced with her.
I set her back down slowly, hands lingering for half a second longer than necessary before I forced myself to step back. If I didn’t leave now, I wasn’t sure I would.
“I’ll see you tonight, Em” I said.
Her lips curved, small and certain. “Yeah. Tonight.”
I grabbed my bag and walked out before I could talk myself into staying.
Practice hitlike it always did on Wednesdays—no easing in, no bullshit warm-up period where everyone pretended their legs weren’t already heavy. Coach Booth was already pacing when we jogged out, arms crossed, hat pulled low, eyes sharp. Install day meant your brain had to work as hard as your body, and Booth didn’t tolerate lagging on either.
“Alright,” Booth barked, clapping once. “Let’s go. I don’t wanna see heads up your asses today. Colts don’t care how tired you are.”
We lined up, and the first few reps went fine. Muscle memory carried me through the initial calls, my body snapping into place the way it always did. But by the second series, my head stuttered. I called the protection late, corrected it fast, but Booth’s whistle cut through the air anyway.
“Abbott,” he shouted. “You planning on thinking today or should we call it a jog?”
“Yes, Coach,” I answered immediately, chest tight. I reset, jaw clenched, and nailed the next rep. Still, the look he gave me lingered longer than I liked.
That bothered me more than the look should have. I was the steady one. I was the guy Booth trusted to anchor the line, the guy who didn’t need his hand held through installs. Today, I was half a beat behind myself, like my brain was somewhere else even when my feet were doing exactly what they were supposed to do.
Drills stacked fast after that—combo blocks, blitz pickup, red zone looks. Sweat poured down my spine and soaked the inside of my pads, my lungs burning the familiar way that usually calmed me. But every time I stood back up, every time I reset my stance, my mind jumped. Em’s arms around my neck. The sound she made when I lifted her. The way she’d asked for that hug this morning like it was the most natural thing in the world.
