Chapter 33 #2
It takes some time to find the visitor bench, but when I do, I wave at Gavin, and he motions the security guards to let us in.
“Holy crap,” Ollie says, scanning the stands. “This is so cool.”
As we step up to the boards, Aiden breaks into song. I’ve heard all about the lyrics he makes up to get the team pumped up, but I’ve never seen him in action like this. Even the video of his on-ice performance when he proposed to Lennox wasn’t this exciting.
He’s on the ice, stick in hand, while the rest of the team stretches around him, when he launches into his version of Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso.”
“Now they’re thinkin’ ’bout us every game, oh
Isn’t that a goal? You know so
Say they can’t win, baby, we know
You’re playing the Boston Bolts, though
Beauty goes up, War goes down, oh,
Slides into the goal, whoa,
Say they can’t win, baby, we know,
You’re playing the Boston Bolts, though.”
War spots us and hops to his feet, interrupting Aiden before he can start the next verse. Then the rest of the guys follow.
“Ollie, baby!” War roars as he glides toward us.
The little boy at my side grins. “Who you calling baby?”
As the guys approach one by one in their skates and pads, I feel tiny.
Even in uniform, Noah is easy to pick out. As he skates up, he pulls off his helmet and grins at his son the same way the little guy just grinned at me. “You being good for Sienna?”
His gaze flicks to mine, the grin turning slightly lazy, and my lungs stop working.
His blue eyes are breathtaking. Soul-crushing.
They’re lit up with genuine excitement, and when they bounce from Ollie to me and hold, the entire arena vanishes, and it’s just the two of us.
The pounding of my heart in my ears is the only sound.
Those damn blue irises are my sole focus.
“She just picked me up. How bad could I have been?”
Ollie’s one-liner and the responding howls of laughter break the spell.
“Your kid’s the coolest.” Aiden whacks Gavin in the chest with a gloved hand. “Let’s make sure your son ends up just like him, okay?”
My heart stutters as I look from a smiling Aiden to a grimacing Gavin. “It’s a boy?”
Aiden winces. “Shit.”
“That’s a bad word,” Ollie chides.
Gavin sighs. “Millie has a whole reveal planned, keep it between us please?” He eyes me pleadingly.
With a smile, I nod. “Consider it forgotten.” Then to Ollie, I add, “This is probably a good time to find our seats.” I rest a hand on his shoulder. “Tell your dad good luck.”
Noah, attention still fixed on me, licks his lips. “Yeah, thanks for bringing him down.” Finally, he looks away, his expression going soft. “Be good,” he reminds his son.
Ollie shakes his head. “Guy worries too much.”
We’re just exiting the visitor’s bench when Ezra appears, coming the other way. He’s dressed in another bespoke suit, and with the phone he’s holding to his ear, I pray he’s too distracted to notice me.
But as he looks from me to Ollie and back again, a bright calculation in his eyes, my hope vanishes.
“Nannying now?” He quirks a brow.
The urge to kick him in the shin with the pointy toe of my boot is strong.
Instead, I plaster on a smile, keeping it light for Ollie’s sake, if not mine. “Just hanging with my friend Ollie while we cheer on our boys.”
With a shrug and a dismissive nod to the little boy, he strides away.
“Jerk.”
Gasping, I peer down at my pint-size buddy. He looks back at me without an ounce of remorse in his expression.
I suppose I can’t chastise him. If I’d been the one calling him names, I would have chosen one much more offensive.
“Yeah, he really is.” I shake my head and temper my frustration with Ezra. “Do you like Boston?” I ask, eager for a change in subject. “Where did you live before?”
“Minnesota. I don’t really remember it, though. We moved to Boston when I was four. I’m six now,” he says with a proud grin.
Right. Almost two years ago. And it’s been well over a year since Brooks and Sara’s wedding, when Noah realized who I was.
I survey the ice over my shoulder, cataloging the players. The group of them is close. As Noah skates over to Brooks and the two of them eye Aiden and laugh, then go back to chatting, I see his confession in a new light.
If he’d approached me that night, he would have risked destroying the lifelong friendship he and Brooks share.
And maybe his spot on the team in Boston, where his child lives.
And for what? The slight chance of rekindling a connection with a woman he hadn’t seen in more than four years? A woman he’d only spent days with?
My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe, but I force the cold air into my lungs, then let it out slowly and look down at Ollie. “Do you like Boston?”
He lifts his shoulders and lets them fall. “Sure.”
“And when your dad is traveling, you live with your mom?”
Maybe I’m prying, but I’m genuinely interested in getting to know this boy. He’s smart and funny and so damn clever.
“And my baby sister and Ted. He’s failing at life, but he’s a good guy.”
I shouldn’t be shocked by his candor anymore, yet a surprised laugh bursts out of me. “What?”
He rolls his eyes. “The guy can’t even walk in a straight line. He trips over everything. I think it’s because he’s so distracted by how pretty my mom is.”
I smile warmly at him. “That’s adorable.”
He scrutinizes me with a shrewdness no six-year-old should possess. “Kind of like how my dad was with you yesterday.”
Cheeks heating, I shake my head. “Oh, your dad and I—”
“I know. He told me you’re just friends.” He sighs. “I’ve got lots of friends who are girls. But only one that makes my heart go thump-thump-thump.” He pounds his chest in time with his words. “Has that ever happened to you?”
This child is so transparent, so frank, that it feels wrong to lie. “Yes. Just once.”
He sighs, his body deflating. “I don’t think I like it. I get all tongue-tied, and I’m never tongue-tied.”
Amusement and affection for this boy bubble up inside me. “I get that too.”
“Oh man, I was hoping I would grow out of it.”
Same, I want to tell him. I hoped I’d one day outgrow this infatuation with his father, yet here I am. And I have a feeling this is just the beginning.
Ollie isn’t quite as versed as Addie, though he still knows far more about hockey than I do.
We eat nachos, then order ice cream sundaes, all while keeping our noses glued to the glass.
He tells me all his favorite parts about attending games and how, when he’s at home, he begs his mom to let him stay up until they’re over.
Sometimes he falls asleep in the middle, but Ted is great about showing him highlights in the morning.
From what I can tell, the three adults are incredible at the co-parenting thing. Though after Ollie explains his weekly schedule, I can’t help but wonder how hard it is for Noah when the two of them aren’t together.
Heading into the third period, the score is still 0-0, and I’m getting antsy.
What happens if neither team scores at the end of the game?
I should ask Ollie, but he’s just as keyed up as I am, and he’s totally locked into the action below us.
Maybe they go into overtime. Or do they end with a tie?
When War gets a hold of the puck and rushes toward the opposite end of the ice, I start to think I won’t have to ask. Aiden and Noah dart that way too, their skates digging deep as they go.
My heart pounds in my ears and my muscles all tense up as they close in on the net.
A Florida defenseman catches up to War, but before he can get too close, War passes the puck to Aiden.
My brother is like a ballerina out there. His movements are fluid and beautiful. His stick work—I think that’s the right term—is incredible. He slaps the puck back and forth, making it hard to follow.
I think that’s a good thing, because if I can’t tell where it is, then maybe the defenseman who’s on him now can’t either. Before the D-man and his counterpart can flank him, he slaps the puck to Noah, who I’ve only now realized has fallen back.
Noah hauls his stick back and brings it forward with enough force to send the puck across the ice and past the goalie’s left shoulder.
When it hits the back of the net and the light on top illuminates, the crowd goes wild.
Ollie and I join in. Even the fans dressed in Orlando’s colors wear looks of awe as a replay appears on the Jumbotron.
I can’t blame them. It’d be hard not to be impressed by that shot. He was practically at center ice.
“Yeah, Dad, yeah!” Ollie screams. “He’s a sniper, did you know that?”
I didn’t, and I don’t know what the term means, but I’ll wait and ask once his excitement has worn off.
Below, Noah circles the rink, looking up at the suite where we’re sitting. Then he flattens his hand over his heart.
Ollie goes even more berserk, bouncing around and mimicking the motion. “Dad does that for me every time.”
Noah’s slowed now, still focused on us, with his stick tucked beneath an arm now and his thumbs linked together. He splays his fingers out and flaps his hands twice.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Ollie frowns, his head tilted to one side. “It’s the sign for a butterfly, but I don’t know why he did it.”
“You know sign language?”
Suddenly, that thump-thump-thump feeling Ollie mentioned earlier overtakes me. Play resumes quickly, yet I’m fixated on the butterfly sign Noah made after scoring the first goal of the game.
“Yup,” Ollie chirps. “Dad uses sign language during games so we can chat when I’m in the stands.”
My heart pummels my rib cage, making it hard to hear even the fans in the stands. But I ask, “How do you sign great job?”
He shows me, and after the puck has dropped, I practice it. Though my fingers itch to form the butterfly sign, my brain wars with itself, half certain Noah meant that as a message to me and half certain I’ve lost my mind.
The Bolts win 1-0, and as we leave the suite, I text Noah like promised. When we get down to the locker room, he’s waiting for us in the hall outside it, still in his hockey gear.
He’s a sweaty mess, but god, is he gorgeous. All chiseled cheekbones, blue eyes, messy hair, and muscles.
“Did you have fun?” He drops to his knees and reaches for his little boy.
Ollie grins. “So much.”
Noah smiles up at me, his expression softening.
I can’t help but return the gesture. “We really had a blast.”
“Yup.” Ollie bounces in a circle, his eyes bright and his face flushed with happiness. “We talked about how Ted fails at life, and how Sienna and I both get the thump-thump-thumps when we like someone.”
Noah’s lips lift into a smirk and his eyes dance as he stands.
My cheeks burn, and as he watches me, that damn thump-thump-thump returns.
“Oh.” Ollie comes to an abrupt stop. “And I taught her sign language.”
The smirk on Noah’s face morphs into a full-on grin. “Did you now?”
“Yup. She knows butterfly and great job. Which is what you did tonight. You were the best.” He throws his arms around his dad’s legs in the most adorable show of affection.
“Thanks, bud.” He pats his son’s back. “C’mon. I need a shower, then we gotta head back to the hotel and get you into bed.”
I take half a step forward. “You sure you don’t want me to stick around and wait with him?” It would be silly to leave Noah to wrangle the little guy while he’s trying to get cleaned up.
He smiles down at his bright-eyed boy. “Nah, we’ll be good. Thank you again.”
A disappointment I absolutely shouldn’t feel presses down on my shoulders. “Of course.”
I pull out my phone to text the car service Gavin insisted on, but before I can walk away, Ollie calls out to me. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Um…” I want to lie. I want to pretend I won’t spend the day alone, the way I spend most of my days off. But once again, his earnestness has me admitting the truth. “Nothing, actually. I thought I’d sit by the pool. Maybe read.”
“You should come fishing with us.” He tips his head back. “Can she, Dad?”
A slow smile creeps over Noah’s face. “Yeah. If she wants to.”
Well, shit. My heart does that thumping thing again, making it impossible to deny the two of them. “Yeah, I guess I could do that.”
Both of their faces light up. “Great.” Noah’s smile turns a tiny bit wicked. “I’ll text you.”
As I walk away, my mind races. Because, dammit, things are about to get sticky.