Chapter 20 Sienna #2
What the hell? I try to pull my focus away from the man, but it’s as though I’ve been put under a spell. I can’t look away. And the more I watch, the more the feeling that his moves are familiar grows.
“Just don’t mention it in front of Hannah,” my friend says, her voice finally snapping me out of it.
I blink at her. “Oh, is that Daniel?”
Her eyes go wide and she gags. “No, that’s Harry.
Her brother, not mine. I think the commentators call him Beauty.
These men and their nicknames. I can’t keep track of them all.
” She glances past me, breaking into a Cheshire grin.
“Actually, you should tell Hannah how hot Harry is doing this. She tortured me for months when she and Daniel started dating. She deserves a taste of her own medicine.” Belatedly, she gasps and takes a step back, whacking my arm.
“And ew. How could you think I’d talk about my brother like that? ”
“Shit, sorry.” I grimace. I really don’t even want to think about hockey fans staring at my brothers doing this. “This is really how they stretch?”
She pins me with a look, her brows raised. “I think they ham it up for the crowds nowadays. It feels like this part of the routine gets longer every season. But yes, it’s how they stretch out their hamstrings. It gets tight in there.”
“That’s what she said,” I mutter.
With a burst of laughter, she throws her head back. “Oh, I’m going to love hanging with you during the games.”
I think I’ll enjoy it too.
After we’ve collected Vivi, we make our way upstairs where, as Millie suspected, all the women are gathered.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” I say as I rush over to my newest sister-in-law and her brand-new baby. Taylor is decked out in Bolts blue, and her shirt says My Dad’s Better Than Your Dad.
“I had to buy it,” Sara says as I giggle over it. “Because he is.”
“Obviously.”
Out in the real world, at least. The fathers of the children in this room could all give Brooks a run for his money. Every one of them is incredible.
“Are you really feeling up to this?” I ask. “It’s only been two weeks.”
“Yes, I’m going stir-crazy.” She sighs. “While the guys are on home ice, you better believe I’ll be here. Especially because Brooks and Gavin have banned me from travel.”
“It’s because you’re supposed to take an actual maternity leave,” Millie reminds her. “They’re doing it for you, not to you.”
Sara lets out an annoyed huff. “That’s not what it feels like. I’m a woman. I gave birth. I can make decisions for myself.”
“She has a point,” I say as I scoop my niece from her arms.
Sara winks at me. “I knew you were my favorite sister-in-law.”
“Hey,” Lennox hollers from the corner. Lennox and Sara were best friends long before they married brothers, so her indignation is valid.
Sara waves a hand. “You’re more a sister than a sister-in-law. Also, not everything is about you.” She turns back to me. “I want to hear all about your new job.”
Hannah and Ava are tucked into the corner on a plush couch with two one-year-olds at their feet. Not far from them, a teenage boy is pointing down at the ice and talking quietly to another boy who must be several years younger than him.
“That’s Brayden, War’s son,” Millie says, nodding at the teenager. “And Ollie, Hannah’s nephew.”
“Ah,” I say, lifting my chin. “Harry’s son, right?”
With a wink, she gently bumps my shoulder. “See? You’re already absorbing the important info. This job is going to be a piece of cake for you.”
I laugh. “Right. Let me get a drink. Then I’ll tell you all about Beckett’s latest scheme.”
Lennox prances over, her pink hair bouncing. Her lipstick is a couple of shades brighter, and her Bolts jersey—with the number 12 on the back of it, I’m sure—has been bedazzled.
I’m immediately obsessed. “Okay, I would consider wearing a jersey if I could have one like that.”
“That should be your first order of business. To create a line of bedazzled jerseys,” she squeals.
“All the men have bedazzled dicks,” Sara quips, “so it tracks.”
My jaw drops, and I’m pretty sure my brain short-circuits. What?
Millie snorts. “Not the coach.”
Lennox and Sara, my brothers’ wives, stand side by side now, grinning like lunatics.
I shudder. “Ew.”
“Their husbands have them too.” Lennox points at Hannah and Ava, who are still seated. “It’s a team thing.”
“Huge fan of the sparkle,” Hannah calls with a waggle of her brows.
“Okay, the little ones might not get it, but I do.” The teenager, Brayden, grimaces. I’ve never spent much time around kids, so I could be off, but he looks fifteen or sixteen. Poor kid. I can only imagine how he feels knowing about all the guys and their jeweled dicks.
Another shudder hits me, this one more violent than the last. “That has to be painful.”
“How is sparkle painful?” Ollie tips his head back and gives Brayden a questioning look.
Brayden shakes his head and glares at Hannah. “I’m telling Harry it was you who told him.”
She waves a dismissive hand, unfazed.
When warm-ups are over, we all settle in with drinks and snacks. I get sucked into the game quickly, the fast-paced movements keeping me on the edge of my seat.
Millie, bless her, chirps in my ear, explaining the rules and answering my questions. Eventually, Hannah joins the conversation. Apparently, like me, they were shuttled around to hockey games for years when they were kids too. They just actually paid attention.
Tonight, though, I get the excitement. The sport is violent and beautiful. Thrilling and enraging.
When Aiden gets slammed into the glass by an opponent, Lennox and I leap to our feet, screaming for the ref to do anything but just watch.
Sara is loud the whole time. So much so that Ava takes the baby for a walk so she can actually get some rest. Within minutes of the puck drop, we’ve all agreed that going forward, Taylor needs headphones.
The guys win 3-1 over Colorado, and after the game, as we’re heading down to the friends and family room to wait for them, a woman approaches Hannah.
“Would you sign this for me?” she asks, holding out a paperback, her expression a little sheepish.
Hannah’s face lights up and she holds out her hand. “Oh, of course. And it’s the original cover! I don’t even sell these anymore.”
“She’s an author?” I ask Millie as we linger nearby, waiting.
My sister-in-law hums. “She’s written several books, actually.”
When Hannah flips open the cover so she can sign the title page, my heart leaps into my throat.
That’s the book Noah carried onto the plane all those years ago. The one he promised he’d write his number in, then sell.
My hands itch to snatch it from Hannah, to flip it open and check for his handwriting.
For years, I looked in every used bookstore I came across, though it’s been a long time since I gave up the quest.
Biting my lip, I consider how weird it would be if I asked this stranger if I could look at it.
Pretty freaking weird, I decide.
And yet, “Can I see that?”
Hannah and her fan turn to me in unison, Hannah with a confused frown and the other woman wearing a giant smile.
“Of course,” the woman says. “Though be careful with it. It’s a first edition.”
Hannah’s smile softens as she holds the book out to me. “It is.”
For a moment, I simply hold the book, cataloging the way it feels in my hand. Then I do the most ridiculous thing. I make a wish.
I haven’t done something like that in so long.
I haven’t believed in something, let alone myself, in what feels like a lifetime.
Yet I find myself believing that maybe this book will have the answers I’ve been seeking.
Suddenly, I’m certain that when I ease the cover open, his name and number will be there, waiting for me.
But if I’m right, then what? It’s been six years. He’d think I was crazy if I called him after all this time.
Still, I hold my breath and thumb the edge of the cover, slowly pulling it back.
The first page is blank. The sight sends a blip of disappointment through me. But it’s not the title page, right? If he left his number, surely it would be there. Right where he knew I’d find it.
Yet as I turn to the next page, only to find the title and Hannah’s signature, my heart sinks.
I’m a fool for romanticizing the whole thing. Truly. Even if we’d miraculously found each other, we probably wouldn’t have worked out, I remind myself.
“It’s a great book,” I say, handing it back.
“You’ve read it?” Hannah’s brows arch into her hairline.
“Yeah.” I force a smile. “I didn’t know you wrote them, but I read the whole series. It’s fantastic.”
Each story was genuinely wonderful, and each time I read one, I felt just a little closer to Noah. I’d envision him lying in bed at the exact moment I was, opening up to the very same page.
“My brother loves this series too. He’s single, you know,” she says as her fan walks away with her autographed paperback.
“I’m not dating,” I tell her. “Also, I’m CEO of the team now. It wouldn’t be ethical for me to date a player.”
Hannah’s face falls. “Ah, you’re right. And Noah’s such a rule follower. He’d never.”
My heart stumbles over itself. Noah? “I thought your brother’s name was Harry.”
Ollie, who’s entertaining Maverick, Hannah’s son, at her side, shakes his head. “I told you these nicknames get confusing.”
Hannah rolls her eyes. “His name is Noah. But his last name is Harrison, so the guys call him Harry.”
Noah Harrison. I roll the name around my head for a few seconds, and the na?ve girl I used to be tries her best to break free from the constraints I’ve put on her. I shut her down quickly and let the notion go. Noah is a common name. Even if this Noah’s stepsister wrote the book.
It’s a coincidence. That’s it.
Happy coincidences. I can practically hear Noah’s teasing tone all these years later.
So when the man I’ve been dreaming about for six years walks into the room, my heart skips about ten thousand beats in my chest, and I forget how to breathe.
As Ollie darts toward him, shouting “Dad,” Noah drops to the ground and holds out his arms.
In a black suit that hugs every inch of him, especially his thick thighs, he looks absolutely delicious. His hair is longer than I remembered, but it’s that sandy brown color I still see in my dreams. And he’s wearing glasses, the black rims making his blue irises pop as he grins at his son.
“Hey, Han,” he says, lifting his head. “How did you—”
His attention lands on me, and his eyes go wide.
As we see each other for the first time in six years, the earth tilts on its axis. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen taking me down because I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
His teeth tug roughly at his bottom lip, his gaze so intense I feel it like a caress beneath my clothes.
He looks older. A little more worldly. With new lines around his eyes, probably created by happy memories he’s made with his son. He looks like a dad. A hot dad, but still a dad.
“The game was fine.” Hannah takes a step toward him, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hello, earth to Noah.”
Ollie pokes him in the chest. “Did you just power down like Robot Sam?”
The man blinks rapidly, and when he breaks his stare, I suddenly remember that I need oxygen to live.
I suck in a breath and shake my head. This is impossible. No way is the man I’ve so desperately missed for years really standing here in front of me. I look at the butterfly on my wrist, brushing my thumb over it, then back up, certain he’ll be gone.
But he’s not. In fact, the man I’ve been searching for is now standing up and walking toward me.
What will he say? What will I say?
With every step he takes, my heart pounds louder.
And when he opens his mouth, he says the last thing I expect.
“Hi, I’m Noah.”