10. Noah
Chapter ten
Noah
T he kids scatter off the field in a blur of jerseys and laughter, leaving nothing behind but dust and scuffed bases. Tyler’s gathering up bats, Knox is rolling the practice balls into the worn mesh bag, and I’m trying like hell to focus on doing the same. But my eyes have a mind of their own.
Kate’s over by the snack table, her head thrown back in easy, unfiltered laughter, the kind that comes from deep in the chest. It’s bright and clear and so painfully pure it wedges itself under my ribs like a wedge, splitting me right open.
It’s been years…years…since I’ve heard a laugh like that. Hell, perhaps longer since I’ve felt what it does to me now. It’s the kind of sound that makes the world tilt for a second, like everything that’s jagged and bruised smooths out from that one simple noise.
And God help me; I want to be the one who puts it there.
I force my gaze down, jaw tight, muscles strained like I’ve just run up the lighthouse stairs in full gear. But it’s useless. The image of her has already burned into my mind.
A sharp nudge catches me in the side.
“You’re drooling,” Knox’s voice cuts in, dry as the dirt under his sneakers.
I blink hard, tearing my gaze away, jaw tightening as I bend to gather the stray bats and helmets scattered across the grass. “Knock it off,” I mutter, but the heat rising at the back of my neck betrayed me.
“Sure, I will,” Knox drawled, cocking his head. “Looked familiar, that’s all.” His eyes glinted with quiet knowing, the kind of sizing up that had stripped me bare more times than I can count, long before the man ever opened his mouth.
“I used to wear that same damn expression, remember? Before I stopped being a stubborn jackass and let myself have what I wanted.”
My grip on the bat handle flexed the worn leather, groaning under my palm.
“Don’t start,” I warn, but Knox only shrugged, the picture of patience, like a man waiting for a slow-moving train to finally pull into the station.
Tyler joins in, lazily tossing a glove into the equipment bag. “You know he’s right. You’ve been watching her all afternoon, man. Might as well hand the woman a neon sign.”
I bite back a sharp reply, forcing my attention on the field, but it betrayed me again. My eyes drag back to her like the pull of a tide I don’t remember stepping into.
Kate stood a little apart from the other parents now, crouched to tie Parker’s loose shoelace, her fingers moving with the kind of tender ease that tugs at something I've kept locked away too long.
“You two would make a beautiful couple; such a pretty thing, huh?” I turn, and there’s Margaret standing behind me, firehouse ballcap tilted back on her head and a smug little grin stretched across her face.
I don’t know how the hell she snuck up on me, but the expression on her face tells me she’s been watching for a while.
Knox and Tyler both chuckle like wolves circling fresh meat, and Knox jerks his chin toward Margaret. “You should’ve seen him earlier. Took a ball straight to the head ‘cause he was too busy making heart eyes.”
Margaret snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth, but it doesn’t muffle the sound. “You’re kidding.”
“Swear to God,” Tyler chimes in. “Nearly knocked him out cold.”
I mutter a curse under my breath and rub the side of my head, the embarrassment of that sting nothing compared to the heat crawling up my neck now. Margaret watches me for a beat longer, eyes softening a little, before nudging me with her shoulder.
“You know, you could ask her out. Spare yourself the concussions.”
I shake my head, exhaling slowly, trying like hell to sound unaffected. “It’s not like that.”
Margaret arches a brow, unconvinced. “No? Sure, looks like it from where I’m standing.”
“She’s not looking for a man,” I say quietly, more to myself than to her. “Whatever the reason she’s here… I’m not about to be another complication.”
Margaret studies me for a moment, that sharp, perceptive glint she always hides under sarcasm, cutting right through. But, to her credit, she lets it go with a simple, “Your call, Captain.”
Then she heads off toward the cluster of women…Emily, Rachel…fitting in like she’s known them all her life.
I stand, watching Kate out of the corner of my eye as Parker tugs at her hand and she smiles down at him, and for the life of me, I can’t shake the thought that maybe, for the first time in a long while, I want to be a part of something... and it scares the hell out of me.
Knox and Tyler eventually call it too, slinging the last of the equipment into the truck bed before exchanging the same look married men give when they’ve got someone waiting for them on the sidelines.
Knox’s gaze flicks once toward Emily-she’s over there now, leaning against the fence, the late sun catching the strands of her hair, softening her sharp edges. Tyler’s wife, Rachel, is the same, standing nearby with her easy smile, the kind that says I know exactly where I belong.
“Later, man,” Knox claps me on the shoulder.
“See you, Chief,” Tyler adds, tossing me a casual salute as he jogs off toward Rachel. I watch the two of them meet halfway. His hand slides over her waist like it’s second nature, her head tipping back for a kiss that’s unhurried and deep, like the world around them isn’t even there.
I don’t mean to stare, but I do. Long enough for something sharp and sour to stir in my gut. Envy isn’t a feeling I’m proud of, but it sits heavy and unwelcome this evening.
I drag my feet toward the crowd, hovering near the edge where the other parents are still gathered, letting the distance shield me. The sun’s dipping low, gold turning to peach, and the town’s small talk has begun to shift into something else entirely.
“So, Noah, when’s the housewarming party?” one of the older ladies, Mrs. Evers, calls out, her voice teasing and full of suggestion.
“Yeah, we’ll bring the casseroles and he can bring the date,” another pipes in, and the laughter that follows is light but pointed, like everyone here knows something I haven’t admitted to myself.
I glance toward Kate, she’s crouched beside Parker, brushing grass stains off his knees, her head tilted as she listens to him ramble about T-ball like it’s the most important thing in the world. She fits there, like she’s always belonged, and the thought roots so deep it makes me shift on my feet.
I stay back, watching the small crowd start to pack up and scatter, families peeling away into the evening. I catch Knox tugging Emily close for a kiss; Rachel resting her head against Tyler’s shoulder, both of them folded into the kind of comfort that only comes with time and knowing.
I shove my hands into my pockets, keeping my feet planted while the space around me thins out.
I was turning toward the truck when Emily’s voice cut across the distance, all casual but aimed squarely at Kate. “Seems like you’re walking tonight, huh?”
Rachel picks up the thread with practiced ease. “Noah’s heading the same way. You two should hitch a ride.”
Kate meets my eyes, her face flickering with something unreadable — hesitation possibly — but Parker is already bouncing on his toes, the decision made long before she can voice an objection.
“Please, Mom! Can we? Blaze rides, too, right?” Parker’s already halfway convinced.
Kate glances my way, our eyes meeting for the first time since I offered her a smile hours ago that didn’t quite reach either of us. Her shoulders drop, the fight folding out of her like air from a balloon.
“Sure,” she says softly, the word so quiet I almost don’t catch it.
The walk to the truck is quiet, save for Parker’s endless, winding monologue about how fast he’s going to run next game, the snack rotation, and how he’s definitely going to hit a home run for real.
I open the passenger side, offering Kate a hand, which she accepts after a heartbeat’s pause, her fingers brushing mine too lightly, too carefully.
Parker and Blaze climb into the backseat, settling into an easy sprawl, and I take the driver’s side, starting the engine.
The truck hums with the soft rumble of the engine as I ease the truck onto the road, the sky stretched low and wide- streaks of burnt orange melting into violet.
The windows are cracked, letting in the salt-stung breeze off the bay, and Parker’s voice bubbles up from the backseat, bright and relentless.
“And then, when Coach Knox showed me how to stand, I hit it so hard! And Noah — you saw it, right? You saw how far it went?” His words tumble over each other, excitement tripping his tongue.
I catch him in the rearview, his face flushed and sun-warmed, hands painting wild shapes in the air as if I’d somehow missed the whole game.
Beside me, Kate shifts — small, almost imperceptible.
Her hands rest folded in her lap, fingers laced so tightly her knuckles pale.
She hasn’t said a word since we left the field.
I catch the way she stares out the window, her gaze fixed on the darkening horizon like she’s willing the distance to swallow her whole.
The ride back is short, but it stretches long in the cab of the truck. Parker chatters nonstop from the backseat, voice bright and animated, recounting every single moment of practice like I hadn’t seen it all unfold with my own eyes.
I focus on the road, on the hum of the tires over old asphalt, on the way the sky turns darker as the sun sinks away.
But even Parker’s voice starts to fade when the kid finally grows quiet, slumping sideways against Blaze, using the dog like a pillow.
His little hand rests on Blaze’s thick fur, breath slow and even; he’s out cold.
The silence that follows isn’t the easy kind. It stretches, tightens, and frays. I grip the wheel a little harder, knowing full well I’m in trouble the moment I start wishing the road would stretch a little longer.