Chapter 2
NOAH
June
“You still smell like coffee and vanilla,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
Her eyes widened, then she laughed—really laughed—the way she used to when I’d screw around and say something dumb to get her through finals week. “What, you catalogued my scents?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged, grinning because I couldn’t help it. “Not my fault you basically lived at the café in the union. Every time you hugged me, I smelled like a vanilla latte for the rest of the day.”
Her cheeks went pink, and I had to look away for a second, because damn. She still had that effect on me.
Back in college, I was never gonna risk screwing up what we had.
She was the best part of my day—every day—and I figured being her friend was safer than trying for more and losing it all.
I was the guy who carried her laundry baskets, the guy she stole fries from, the guy who sat through three hours of The Notebook because she wanted “background noise” while she studied.
Yeah, I had it bad. Always had. But I kept my feelings for her locked up.
Because Em Sanders? She deserved smooth. Confident. Someone who wasn’t the oversized offensive lineman with goofy jokes and an unshakable crush.
So I played it safe. Stayed in the friend zone. She’d declared so many times she never wanted to date again because of her past, and I believed her, refusing to pressure her in case it destroyed our friendship.
Except now—standing here with her smile hitting me like a damn freight train—I felt every bit of that crush all over again. And it was worse. Stronger. Because she looked even better now, and I wasn’t the same kid anymore.
“You know,” I said, leaning an elbow on the bar beside her, close enough that her shoulder brushed my arm, “you still hug like you’re trying to snap my ribs in half.”
She smirked, lips curving like she was about to roast me. “You’re built like a redwood tree. It’s the only way to make sure you actually feel it.”
“Fair point.” I grinned, leaning closer. “Still. You could’ve warned me. Gonna need an ice bath after that one.”
She bumped my chest with her hand, rolling her eyes, but she didn’t move away.
My pulse spiked at the contact, as stupid as that was.
God, I’d missed that. Missed her. I’d been trying to figure out who the hell I was besides an offensive lineman, and I didn’t realize how much of my life was just football.
Women only wanted me because I played for the Rampage.
They didn’t care about me, just the fame.
Yet Em never gave a flying shit that I played a sport.
Probably because her brother was a pro NHLer.
“Hey,” I said, tilting my head, “you remember our old thing? When finals were kicking our ass and we’d try to outdo each other with…what’d we call it?”
Her face lit up. “Our adventure List.”
“Yeah, that’s it!” I snapped my fingers. “Little stuff, stupid stuff—like who could sneak into the stadium first or who could eat the nastiest cafeteria combo.”
She groaned, covering her face. “Don’t even bring up the ramen and ranch incident. I can still taste it.”
I barked out a laugh. “Hey, I took one for the team. And you dared me, so it’s your fault.”
Her eyes were sparkling, her laugh bubbling out so easily it made my chest ache.
“Anyway,” I said, lowering my voice enough that she had to lean closer to hear me, “I think we should bring it back. Adventure List: Alumni Edition.”
Her brows lifted. “Here? Now?”
“Why not?” I shrugged casually, but my heart was hammering.
I always loved the smirk on her face when she completed the list. She’d do a shimmy, and her blue eyes would widen with glee.
Nothing was sexier than when Em was happy.
And while she smiled now, something was behind her gaze that hadn’t been there years ago.
Sadness, maybe? Uncertainty? Em had been the most confident girl back then, so I wanted to find out why that faltered.
“Unless you’re scared you can’t keep up with me anymore.” I shrugged, pretending to scoff.
She narrowed her eyes, mock-offended. “You think I’m the weak link here? You’re on.”
I was still laughing about the ramen-and-ranch story when Em suddenly froze, eyes catching on something over my shoulder. Then her whole face lit up, brighter than the damn Ferris wheel behind her.
“Theo!” she squealed, taking off before I could blink.
I followed at my own pace, slow enough not to look like a weirdo, fast enough not to lose her in the crowd.
I’d thought about her often the last few years but never reached out.
Maybe the fear of being turned down prevented me from reaching out, but I wouldn’t make that mistake again after tonight.
I was getting her number or making sure I still had hers.
I watched, letting myself check her out now that she wasn’t facing me, and damn. Em Sanders was so pretty.
She barreled into a tall guy in a baseball cap, nearly knocking the drink out of his hand, and he caught her in one arm like it was instinct.
I knew that face—hard not to. Theo Sanders.
Former Central State hockey legend turned NHL star.
His wife, Audrey, was right there too, hugging Em with the same enthusiasm, and beside them was another couple.
Quentin Hawthorne and Logan, if I remembered right—Audrey’s brother and his wife.
I hung back a step, watching the chaos unfold.
Em had her arms wrapped around all of them in some huddle, bouncing on her toes, laughing in a way few saw.
Pure joy. She’d always been tactile—the kind of person who showed love with touch—and seeing her fold into her people like that? Yeah, I felt that shit in my chest.
She waved me over, tugging on my arm when I got close. “You remember my brother Theo, right? This is Audrey—you’ve probably seen her, she’s everywhere with the team. And this is Quentin and Logan. Quentin practically saved my life once, and Logan’s my girl. We go way back.”
Theo shook my hand, firm grip, easy grin. “Abbott. Hell of a year with the Rampage.”
“Appreciate it,” I said, leaning back like we weren’t surrounded by a hundred sweaty alumni. “You’re still holding it down with the Acorns, yeah?”
Theo rolled his eyes. “For now. Contract’s almost up. Starting to think being closer to Em wouldn’t kill me. Chicago’s got decent hockey last I checked.”
Em groaned, smacking his arm. “Don’t start. You’re not moving here just to hover over me.”
Theo ignored her completely, grin widening. “Could do worse than finishing up in this city. Better food, good fans, and less snow than Minnesota.”
“Barely less snow.” Logan cut in, tugging her jean jacket open.
Underneath, she was repping one of Em’s custom jerseys, rhinestoned to hell and back, the Hawthorne name glittering across the shoulders.
I’d seen Em’s posts, loving her designs from afar the last few years.
“Besides, we’ve been talking about moving to the city too.
Quentin wants to spend more time here. And I’ve got the wardrobe for it now. ”
Em’s cheeks flushed pink. “Oh my God, you wore one of mine?”
“Hell yes,” Logan said, winking. “Free advertising. Half the bar stopped me to ask where I got it.”
Theo barked a laugh. “I’m telling you, Em. You should talk to Marty in advertising. He’d love to bring you on with the team.”
Em shook her head, her lips turning down in a way I knew well. She did not like what her brother suggested. “I’m not using you to gain traction, Theo.”
“It’s not that, you know it.” Theo put an arm around Em, hugging her for a beat before releasing her. “Hey, we’re meeting up with some of the hockey team. Heard Cal Holt is here and even Coach Reiner. Want to go say hi, but we’ll check-in with you in a bit?”
“Sounds good.” Em beamed at her brother and Audrey, then waved as they walked farther down the pier.
I waited while she stood there until they disappeared into the crowd. She turned back to me, cheeks flushed, smile still wide, like the energy of her people had supercharged her.
“You’ve got a whole army,” I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
My sister Nat and her kiddo and I were close—I loved that kid.
Her and I texted often, but we weren’t close with our parents at all.
We definitely didn’t have fun group chats with them like some of my teammates.
They were average parents and made sure I had a home and food to eat, but they weren’t flexible.
If you disagreed with them about anything, they’d stop talking to you for a while.
Then, we’d pretend everything was fine and they didn’t pout for two months.
“Perks of being a Sanders,” she teased, tugging on my sleeve as we walked back toward the lights. “Loud, dramatic, and impossible to get rid of.”
“I’ll take it,” I said easily, bumping my shoulder against hers. “Though for the record, I don’t think anyone could out-drama you.”
Her mouth fell open, playful outrage sparking in her eyes. “Excuse me? You’re calling me dramatic?”
I leaned in, close enough that she had to tilt her chin up. “Remember sophomore year? You made me sneak into the student center at midnight because you ‘needed’ a giant inflatable wolf for your dorm room.”
She laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. “That was not dramatic. That was school spirit.”
“Uh-huh.” I grinned, steering us toward a food stand. “Pretty sure it was against two rules and a fire code.”
Her eyes sparkled, and when I handed her a basket of cheese curds, her fingers brushed mine—light, but enough to make my chest ache. She didn’t move away, didn’t pull back. Just let it linger.
“So,” I said, pretending like my pulse wasn’t pounding, “what’s on our adventure List tonight? Or are you losing your edge?”
She narrowed her eyes, that familiar smirk tugging at her mouth. “You’re on, Abbott. First one to finish these without making a face wins.”