Chapter 16 Noah
SIXTEEN
NOAH
There’s just something about weddings. About how two people decide that against all odds, they’re going to give it a shot.
The first time I met the woman standing at the altar with Brooks, I knew they’d make it.
It’s the way my friend lights up around her and how fiercely protective she is of him.
Sara couldn’t care less about the millions he has in the bank.
She’s enamored. It’s evident in the way she looks at him, the way she talks about him, and in the respect she has for one of the kindest, most caring men I know.
And it’s more than obvious that his heart beats wildly for her.
It’s the way they smile at one another like they’ve won the lottery as Beckett Langfield pronounces them husband and wife.
And the way she leaps into his arms with the biggest of smiles. And how his full attention remains fixed on her as he carries her up the aisle.
It’s hard not to believe that soulmates exist in the presence of Brooks and Sara.
“Now, that’s a wedding,” I say, holding out a hand to Hannah. We stayed in our seats as we waited for the aisles to clear, but it looks like our row is next.
Hannah shocked the shit out of me when she announced that she was pregnant.
My stepsister has never been one for relationships.
What was even more surprising was the identity of the father.
Daniel Hall, my teammate, is often referred to as Playboy by fans and commentators.
He’s young, really young, and though I don’t know him well yet, I admit that I judged him based on his nickname and reputation.
I was sure he wouldn’t take her pregnancy seriously, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Hall is all-in, and he’s just as head over heels for Hannah as Brooks is for Sara.
“I don’t know.” Hannah sighs as she takes my hand and lets me help her up. “The way Ava and War did it was ridiculously romantic.”
“Didn’t their marriage start out as a contract?”
“Well, yes.” She shrugs. “But it was just the two of them at city hall. I love the simplicity of it. Doing away with the whole pomp and circumstance so it’s nothing more than two people pledging to do their best for one another.”
“That is beautiful, Han,” I tease. “Spoken like a true romantic.”
She lets out a throaty laugh, the sound a bit too loud for the moment. That’s Hannah to a T. She’s got a big personality. “I’m an author, not a romantic. I don’t actually believe in all that stuff.”
With a smirk, I shake my head. “Sure you do. You write love stories about the most improbable couples. You create characters who overcome their traumas, then end up finding the love they deserve without having to change who they are.”
It’s what I’d wish for myself if I thought I had a chance at any of that.
Her mouth hangs open. “That’s what you get from my writing?”
“Actually,” I tell her, “it’s how Daniel described it when he was telling the guys about you during morning skate last week.”
Hannah lifts her chin and scans the room.
Daniel was running late, so he didn’t make it in time to sit with us.
While she looks for him, I scan the crowd for a familiar face, figuring I’ll bow out and give them some time alone.
The bond between them is growing, whether Hannah wants to believe it or not, and since I live with her, I’m always in their space.
I’m leaning in, ready to tell her I’ll catch up with her later, when my attention snags on a figure at the front of the room and my heart stops.
Because the beautiful woman standing in front of the pergola is more familiar to me than anyone in this room.
But it can’t be her.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I open them again, she’s still there. What the fuck?
Her high cheekbones and porcelain skin look exactly as I remember.
Her dark hair is down and wavy and far longer than it was the last time I saw her.
The petite frame and curvy hips are the same.
But her big smile and stunning green eyes are what finally convince me that I haven’t lost my mind.
She’s really here. She’s gesticulating wildly as she talks to Gavin Langfield, part-owner of the Bolts and my coach.
Beckett, his brother and the other co-owner, is there too, as well as his wife.
What is she doing here? And how the hell does she know the Langfields?
“You okay?” Hannah squeezes my arm, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I’m afraid to look away from the woman I’ve been dreaming of for years, worried that she’ll vanish, but with a shake of my head, I garner the strength to turn to Hannah.
“Might have.” I rub a hand over my face, already working on a way to get Sienna alone.
In a room full of people, including all the bigwigs who have the power to make or break my career, I can’t just rush up to her and scoop her up into a hug.
But I need to know why she’s here. “I’m going to splash some water on my face. ”
Daniel appears, cupping Hannah’s arm. “I’ve got her.”
With a wooden nod, I stalk away. Fuck, I need a moment to think. To breathe. To figure out my next fucking move. Sienna is here. My Sienna.
Finally.
All the ridiculous searching I’ve done for years finally feels worth it. I knew our story wasn’t over. I knew it wasn’t a waste of time to wait for her. To ignore every woman who crossed my path because none of them were her.
She’s here.
My mind is spinning as I approach the doors, but before I can exit, I run smack dab into War’s chest.
“Whoa, buddy,” he says, steadying me. “Where are you rushing off to? Brooks wants to take a few pictures with us before cocktail hour.”
I blow out a breath, then another, willing my heart to stop racing and my ears to stop ringing. Sienna won’t evaporate into thin air, and if she does, I now have connections that’ll help me find her. It’s safe to take some damn pictures.
Nodding, I follow War, and when I spot Brooks waiting with his new wife and the photographer, my muscles relax a fraction.
Shit, she’s really here.
Nervous energy merges with excitement, and there goes my heart again, this time taking off at a gallop.
Somehow I make it through pictures, though there’s a chance I’ll look like a maniac in every one.
But for the most part, I rein in all the emotions overtaking me while I congratulate the couple and even join in on a conversation or two.
As Brooks and Sara move on for photos with other people, my mind whirls again, working through all the reasons Sienna could be here.
And considering the best way to approach her.
War suggests getting a drink at the open bar, and I nod quickly. It’ll give me a few more minutes to figure out my next move. Maybe I’ll even fill War in. He’ll know what to do.
As we walk away, Sara says, “There’s your sister. Do you want a photo with her alone?”
That catches my attention. I haven’t seen Brooks’s sister since she was a kid. I think she came to a game or two when we were in college.
“Sienna,” Sara says, and I whip around. “Come grab a pic with Brooks. Your brothers are taking too long.”
Sienna, my Sienna, is no more than twenty feet from me, rolling her eyes.
My lungs seize up and my muscles lock. I’m completely enraptured, consumed by her as she banters with my friends.
Is she friends with Sara? Fuck yes. This couldn’t be more perfect. Brooks’s and War’s wives are best friends, along with Aiden’s wife. Even Coach’s. Once again, I’m hit with how right Sienna was for me all those years ago. It’s fate, pure and simple.
Fucking serendipity.
“Only because he’s my favorite brother. Today, at least.” Her raspy laugh washes over me, making it impossible to comprehend anything she’s saying.
“Aw, you hear that, Brookie?” Sara coos. “Sienna says you’re her favorite.”
“Who is that?” I mumble to War. Why, I don’t know. All reasonable thought has escaped me.
He turns, hands in his pockets. “Oh, that’s Sienna. You haven’t met her?”
I shake my head, even though, yes, I’m very well acquainted. “How does she know the Langfields?”
War laughs. “Dude. You haven’t looked at a woman in years. This is not the time to change that. At least not with that woman.”
I blink out of the fog Sienna’s proximity has brought with it, my head snapping his way. “Why?”
“She doesn’t know the Langfields,” he says, his brows lifted. “She is a Langfield. The little princess, to be exact. Brooks’s baby sister, Sienna.”
My mind does a million somersaults as I put together the conversation Sienna and Sara just had.
Fuck.
The bombshell War just dropped replays in my mind. Then the conversations Sienna and I had all those years ago.
When people find out my last name, it changes things.
I have four older brothers.
Holy shit. She is Sienna Langfield. My best friend’s younger sister. My coach’s younger sister. My teammate’s younger sister.
Fuck.
The difference in our ages never really concerned me. Not in the beginning, because I had no intention of having anything but a fling, and not once I got to know her, because by then, she was all that mattered.
Now? Unease slithers through me. I’m a depraved asshole. All the things we did? All the ways I took her, all the filthy words, only to find out that she was once the kid sitting in the stands watching my hockey game?
I study her again. The ruching of her tight red dress accentuates all her curves, and her breasts swell from the top in a way that makes my mouth water. Sienna is all woman. The guys must know that. They don’t see her as their baby sister. They see her as an adult. Right?
I’m still trying to convince myself of that when her brothers surround her, engulfing her in hugs and smiling for the camera. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.