Chapter 11
Noah Thatcher was a natural with student athletes. Or, perhaps, they were a kind soul that got along with anyone.
We stood together on the sidelines during the halftime performance. I watched Kendall for most of the run; besides the little moments Noah’s silver hair would draw my attention away when it caught under the stadium lights.
It was a great performance. I could see Kendall’s happiness skyrocket each time he caught his toss around the high school performers.
And thankfully for my people-pleasing kid, I wasn’t the only one to notice.
“Kendall’s forty-fives have improved dramatically since the summer. Do they spend time practicing away from the team?“
Noah asked as we climbed up the bleachers behind the students.
“He practices with his aunt. She was in colorguard through college at McNeese.“
I explained. “He’s committed. Wants to go to Northwestern for guard.”
“Northwestern is quite the team.“
Noah agreed. “Have they picked up rifle or sabre?”
“They started rifle last year. It stays at his aunts’ house because I don’t trust him not to try and show off with it before he knows how to toss it.”
“Careful Momma.”
I bit my lip as Noah’s eyes found mine. It was silly to think I heard a dip in their voice. No one would be so foolish as to dirty talk while standing five feet from a group of middle schoolers who giggle at Ben Dover on Kahoot.
Noah smiled.
Such a simple thing. I barely even knew them and a smile turned my whole heart around. It burst heat through my body from the clit out.
And their masc body design that made that basic Lakeside band tee so unbelievably attractive . . . I pressed my thighs together imagining the strong arms underneath, thick callused fingers built to catch fucking sabres and rifles filling me.
“You’re drooling, Miss Sullivan.“
Noah teased.
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t play. My son is watching.“
I crossed my arms. “I don’t want this to affect—”
“Kendall is very talented, Miss Sullivan.“
Noah lowered their voice so the kids couldn’t listen in over the music. “And I appreciate your love for your child, but Kendall needs room to grow. Let them bring the rifle to practice every now and then so that natural competition can help them grow.”
“And if he breaks a finger?”
“They could break a finger with a flag.“
Noah shrugged. “They could break a finger using a locker, closing it in the car door, running into one of their friends during class change—Kendall could fall right now and rolled down every single one of these bleachers and break one single finger.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“And Kendall will be fine.“
Noah gently grabbed my arms. Thank fuck for jackets because I could not handle skin-on-skin contact right now. “Both of y’all will.”
Noah released my forearms and turned back to their team. Tossing a finger toward their captains, a broad smile bloomed across their sterling features.
“Runaway Baby. Let’s go!”