Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
SAWYER
“Go, go, go!” Hunter springs out of his seat, shouting at the TV, and I can’t help but laugh. I like hockey, I do, just not like . . . this much. I just like watching it with him. I used to love watching him play. I prefer smaller leagues to the national one.
In college I was an equipment manager to help pay my tuition. It’s how we met.
We instantly became best friends. Hunter’s probably one of the easiest people to talk to. He’s helped me so much this past year. His own mother died when he was a teenager, so he knew exactly what I was going through.
“Fuck yes!” Hunter drops back down into his seat.
I look across the room and watch Mark sitting sideways in his armchair, his head resting on one chair arm, his legs slung over the other. “They get a goal, babe?” he says absently while playing the handheld game system he has.
“Kuli, with Colton’s assist.”
“Who?”
“Oliver Kulivov. He’s their captain. He’s the one who’s married to their goalie.” Hunter grins. “Fucking awesome to say out loud. It’s so cool.”
“And Colton is Brandon’s brother, right?
” It seems unreal that people we went to college with are playing pro.
I guess it’s not too surprising. Brandon’s family is hockey royalty.
His father and grandfather were notable players, and his brother is probably one of the best defensemen in the league right now.
Hunter’s hockey coach from college is also an ex-player for this very team.
Hunter’s favorite team is the Oregon Otters. It always has been. He lost it when he found out that ex-defensemen Grey Tremblay would be their coach back in college. Having an openly gay ex-player as a hockey coach was huge for him as well.
I think he’s married now. I’m not sure. Hunter knows, though, he’s still in touch with him. Sometimes he joins him for Hawks games when Oregon plays here. “Yeah, he is,” he says dreamily.
Hunter was injured in college by the guy who set fire to my mother’s restaurant. It was a huge shitstorm. He fractured Hunter’s kneecap and messed him up bad. He was able to play the following year, but things weren’t the same.
I often wonder if he’s upset that he didn’t make it.
I look up and notice Mark’s eyes on Hunter while he watches the screen.
The Otters are winning by two, and Hunter’s focus has been all on the game.
Mark’s eyes meet mine before he smiles softly.
“You want another drink, babe?” He swings his legs over the chair.
“No thanks. I have to take Sawyer home after this,” Hunter says.
“Sawyer?”
“I’m good. I have to get up early anyway.”
“So.” Hunter smirks. “Excited for Noah this weekend?”
Mark walks back into the living room with a can of soda. “Terrified is more like it.” I sip the rest of the drink I do have. “I’m not doing naked baking lessons.” I shake my head. “I can’t imagine what insanity he’s going to come up with.”
“Noah’s going to help you.” My head whips around at Mark’s tone.
With all the messing around and jokes between them, it’s hard to remember that Mark and Noah are best friends.
Like the bestest of best friends. “I’ll help you bury a body and ask what this person did to piss you off later” type best of friends. “Noah’s amazing at what he does.”
Hunter snorts, but I watch Mark’s glare deepen.
“I appreciate his help. I do. It’s just . . . Noah’s brand of whatever the hell isn’t really me.”
Mark sets his drink down. “I’m going to say something, and if it ever leaves this living room, I will deny it and take you all out with me.” Hunter rolls his eyes. “Noah is literally the best friend anyone could ever ask for.”
Hunter’s eyes widen as he peels them away from the TV to look at Mark. “Really? Noah. Like . . . Noah Gaitlin. Crop top and dildo enthusiast Noah?”
“Yes.”
“The same Noah who treats your past together like he contracted a brain-eating amoeba. That Noah?”
“Stop.” Mark’s serious tone catches my attention.
“I get it. He’s a lot. And yeah, okay, he makes us do some crazy shit.
I can’t even say he makes us. None of us ever say no.
” He glares at Hunter. “And I think you can admit, and maybe even Sawyer, that we all have a great time when he’s around.
He’s fun, but more than that, he gives a fuck about his friends.
“It’s why I was afraid when Jamie and Noah got together, because no offense, and I’m glad I’m wrong, but Jamie was awful to us all.
I know he was going through a lot. I know he deals with a lot of mental health issues and trauma, but I was afraid.
Noah loves deeply. I was afraid Jamie would be mean to him and Noah would take it personally.
I’m so happy I was wrong. Somehow, they fit.
I don’t think I could pick anyone better for my best friend.
” Mark glares. “Don’t tell Jamie I said that either! ”
“I have no doubt about him being a great friend.” I know at the end of the day Noah is harmless, and if any of us are uncomfortable with something he does, we tell him and he stops. Instantly. “I’m just worried he’s going to hang dildos from the ceiling or hire male strippers to cater an event.”
“He wouldn’t hire strippers. He has us.” Mark leans forward, grabbing his game and shutting it off.
“The thing is, he went to school for business. He was raised by a man who built a security empire, and he was expected to take over that empire. It was his life until his father kicked him out. And you know what? A lot of trust fund kids would be devastated by the lack of money and being cut off, but Noah doesn’t care.
As insane as he can be, he does not give a fuck about money.
He gives a fuck about people. His people. ”
“Your friend is still a lot,” Hunter mumbles, focusing back on the TV.
“That may be, but when Noah says he wants to help you, know that he wants to. Genuinely. He’s not someone who’ll sit there and offer help only to be annoyed when you need it. Noah wants to help. Let him help you, because not to be mean, but I assume this morning at the bakery is the norm. Right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dead, Sawyer. Dead. Let Noah sprinkle his glitter magic over your shop. Believe me, you’ll get customers.” He sits back in his chair, and I’m a little taken aback by it. I’ve never seen Mark like this when talking about Noah.
I watch Hunter’s knee bounce a little then he looks at Mark. “I’m sorry.” He smiles at him and gets up to plant a kiss on top of his head. “I know he’s your friend.”
Mark smiles, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. “He’s your friend too, Puck Daddy.”
“Sorry I’m late!” Noah walks into my bakery, a notebook tucked tight against his chest. He lets the notebook fall away, and it’s almost instinct now to read the words on his shirts.
This one is a loose white crop top that stops above his belly button.
The bold hot-pink letters say I may be a handful, but so are my tits.
He’s paired it with tight dark-wash skinny jeans and a pair of converse on his feet He’s had a haircut recently, shaved on the sides with his curls styled on top.
“Are you checking me out?” He stops in the middle of my shop and poses for me. “It’s okay. Look your fill.”
“I’m more wondering if you came straight from work with that shirt on.” Noah laughs. Not that Noah isn’t pretty. He’s very attractive.
“I had to run home quick and change. I’ve tried talking to Lia about a dress code change but it’s not taking yet.” I have no idea if he’s serious. Noah does a little spin for me. “Aren’t I adorable? Do you lie awake at night wondering what could have been?”
“You’re the one who got away.” His mouth drops open. “Kidding.”
“Tease,” he laughs. “So.” He puts a foot on the bar of my stool, arching his back and posing with his butt poking out. “Where do you want me?”
“You’re impossible.” I push him toward my apartment stairs in the back. “Let’s go upstairs. I just finished closing.”
After I lock the bakery, I walk with him upstairs.
I’ve never invited him up here. My apartment is small, just two bedrooms. Mine and one that sits empty.
I had thoughts of turning it into an office but gave that idea up.
I don’t really need it. I also thought about turning it into a gym, but going to the gym with Hunter is the only time I really leave this place.
The living room and kitchen is an open concept, separated by a counter, and the kitchen has a big island in the middle perfect for prepping and cooking. There’s also a small kitchen table with four chairs, so Noah makes himself comfortable there. “Do you want something to drink?”
“If you have iced coffee, I’ll love you forever.”
“Let me see.” I take out the coffee I had left over from this morning and the heavy whipping cream.
Then I grab the homemade caramel syrup I have and decorate the inside of a glass cup with it.
Taking my tray of ice cubes, I drop a handful into the cup, then I grab my homemade vanilla extract and cinnamon.
Mixing the coffee and cream, I put in a few drops of vanilla extract and decide to add something extra, grabbing the monk fruit extract and adding a few drops of that as well.
Then I top it off with a dash of cinnamon and swirl it around with a reusable straw.
I join him at the table and slide him his drink. Noah takes a sip, his eyes lighting up. “Oh my god. This! Why aren’t you making this downstairs!?”
“It’s just iced coffee.”
“Sawyer, it’s never just iced coffee. You clearly have a gift.
Don’t minimize it. Jamie makes me iced coffee all the time, and between you and me, it doesn’t taste a quarter as good as this.
One of the nights we’re planning, make this.
People will love it.” He takes another sip with a whine. “Why is it so good?”
“I don’t know. It’s just cream and coffee, with some cinnamon, vanilla, and monk fruit extract.”
“What’s monk fruit?”