Chapter 9
EM
Fridays were supposed to feel easy. They were invented to be that half-breath before the weekend, but this morning didn’t feel easy at all. Noah paced the kitchen like a caged bear, his phone in one hand, his travel itinerary open on the counter.
He’d already double-checked his bag twice, his tablet three times, and his keys at least four.
The game wasn’t until Sunday night, but the team was flying out this afternoon for their first away series of the season—a Sunday night opener in Dallas, national broadcast, all eyes on them.
I’d watched enough of these to know how big it was.
I just hadn’t realized how nervous he would be about leaving.
“Okay, so Miles gets out at three,” Noah said, scrolling through his phone.
“You’ll pick him up at the side gate—not the main entrance, since it’s chaos.
Library day, so he’ll have his bag stuffed full of books.
He gets snack after school, but don’t let him have juice or he’ll be wired.
I told them you’ll be picking him up. You’re cleared but bring an ID. ”
I smiled, leaning on the counter, Sassy sitting obediently beside me. This reminded me of the chaos of watching Daniel and Penny. I felt right at home. “Got it. No juice. Library books. Side gate.”
“And bedtime is seven thirty,” he went on, his tone bordering on manic. “But he’ll try to bargain. He’ll ask for nine. Don’t fall for it. It’s always seven thirty. He thinks if he wears me down, he wins.”
“Noah.” I tried not to laugh, because he was so serious about it. “I think I can handle it. You’re gone three days. We’ll be fine.”
He stopped pacing, exhaling hard. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“I know,” I said softly. “But he’s resilient. And we’ve got Sassy. She’s basically an emotional support animal at this point.”
At her name, Sassy lifted her head, tail thumping once against the cabinet. Noah cracked a reluctant smile. “Yeah, she’s a good one,” he admitted.
“She’s the best one,” I corrected. “And she adores Miles. He’ll be fine, Noah. You need to focus on your game. This is huge. Plus, Sunday night?”
He nodded, but his hand raked through his hair again, tension written all over him. His were wide, like little saucers, and his hair stuck up in every direction. “I just—he’s still having nightmares sometimes. And he’s finally sleeping through the night again. What if it sets him back? What if—”
“Hey.” I cut him off before the spiral could start. I reached across the counter and touched his wrist, steadying him by wrapping my fingers around him. “You’re an incredible uncle. By trusting me with him, you can focus on you, and that’s what he needs. A role model.”
That made him blink, his expression softening. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, I’m very sure.” I squeezed his wrist one more time before letting go with a smile.
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched mine, like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find a reason to. His hand turned under mine, fingers brushing my palm. The warmth of it sank in slow, grounding and intimate.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice low. “For doing this. For being here. I’m not sure there is anyone else I trust as much as you.”
His words were like a warm hug, deep in my chest. No one in my family trusted me like that besides my two younger siblings.
Daniel and Penny and I had a special bond, since I’d basically been a parent to them almost two years.
Theo was too, but once he made it to the NHL, the responsibility landed to me as my mom healed.
“Go win a game,” I said, forcing a small smile. “And stop worrying about juice boxes.”
That earned a laugh, finally. He shook his head, but some of the tension drained out of his shoulders. “Right. Juice boxes. Got it.”
“Is there anything I can do to reassure you?”
“Fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his throat bobbing before he met my eyes again. His beautiful brown eyes were filled with worry, anguish even. “Don’t let my parents stop by. They could try something with me gone.”
“Wait, what?”
“I’ll tell you everything when I get back. I promise.” He scrubbed his face again. “I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you weren’t here, Em. I’m barely able to leave now, and you’re with him.” He exhaled, eyes filling with moisture. “Okay, I need to leave. I should just go.”
God, seeing him struggle had me saying to hell with it. I hopped off the stool and went to him, wrapping my arms around his middle and hugging him. “Everything will be okay. I promise you, Abbott. Call me as many times as you need. Text. FaceTime. You won’t annoy me ever.”
His whole frame went rigid before he exhaled against my hair. The sound was rough, uneven, pulled straight from his chest. I could feel the tremor in him under my palms, that impossible combination of strength and exhaustion that made my throat ache.
He smelled like soap and coffee, the faint trace of his cologne clinging to the cotton of his shirt.
My cheek pressed against the center of his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat thudding through the layers between us.
He was so much bigger than me that I had to stand on my toes just to loop my arms fully around him, and for a second, it felt like the world stopped spinning.
Noah’s arms came around me carefully, as if he was afraid he might crush me. The weight of his hand settled between my shoulder blades, his thumb drawing a small, slow circle there. He let out a long breath, the kind that sounded like surrender.
“Okay,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Okay.”
I didn’t move. I held on until the shake in his shoulders eased, and the tightness in my chest finally loosened too.
When he stepped back, his voice was low and rough. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
“I’m sure,” I said, even though part of me wanted him to stay right where he was.
He nodded once, then reached up, brushing his thumb over a strand of hair that had fallen across my face. “You always know what to say,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth tipping up before he turned toward the door. He paused but didn’t look at me again before he walked out the door.
The condo felt different without him in it. Too quiet, too still, like the air itself was waiting for something to happen. Miles was at school, Sassy snored softly, and I buried myself in my work to keep from noticing how empty the space it was.
By the time three rolled around, I packed up my tablet and grabbed Sassy’s leash. She wagged her tail the second I said, “Go get Miles?” and bolted for the door.
The school’s pickup line was chaos, but Miles spotted us instantly. “Sassy!” he yelled, running toward her, his backpack bouncing behind him. “She’s here!”
“She’s always here,” I said, laughing. “You think I could leave her home alone?”
Miles hugged her around the neck, and Sassy responded with a sloppy kiss across his cheek. He didn’t even wipe it off—just laughed, loud and bright.
That night, we kept things simple. Mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, a movie that made him laugh so hard he snorted soda out of his nose.
The whole evening was totally chaos, but it was happy chaos.
He changed, brushed his teeth, and called Noah before he passed out in bed.
My brother Daniel had been like that when he was a kid.
He’d go, go, go, then boom, lights out. I chuckled and sent him a text.
He was in college now, freshman year, living his best life.
Maybe I’d go back for family weekend to see Central State again.
I changed into an old Central State tee and boxer shorts as my phone rang. Noah’s name popped up with FaceTime. I answered, first ring. “Hi! I’m sorry, he’s already passed out!”
Noah’s face filled the screen, dimly lit by the bedside lamp. He was propped against a headboard in a gray team-issued tee, his hair still damp from a shower. The corners of his eyes looked tired, but when he saw me, his mouth curved up anyway.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You look energized.”
“Barely,” I said, tucking one leg under the other as I sat on the couch. “Miles passed out about ten minutes ago. Full speed to dead stop. I think your guy’s going to be a sprinter one day.”
That earned a laugh from him—a quiet one, but real. “Yeah, he gets that from his mom. She was like that too. Couldn’t sit still for five minutes.” His gaze flicked down like the words cost him a little, then came back up, softer. “I’m not even sure why I called.”
“I told you, you don’t need a reason.” I smiled at him, my heart clenching. “You’re worried. It’s cute.”
“It’s not cute, Emily.”
“Oh, full naming me. Awesome. That means I’m in trouble.” I rolled my eyes, adjusting my glasses. They kept sliding down my nose.
Noah chuckled, the sound deep and raspy. “God, do you remember that one semester you refused to go by Em anymore? Said you were maturing?”
“Ugh!” I threw my head back, groaning. “Don’t remind me. That was a strange semester. I was heartbroken and weird and a mess.”
“’It’s Emily, not Em. Don’t make the mistake again.’ You said that to one of our professors.”
“Shut up!” My face burned red. “If we’re doing this, then I’m bringing up the time you threw up behind the church!”
Noah cackled, his eyes crinkling on the sides in a way I loved. He adjusted the phone, moving it closer. “Damn, you’re cute when you blush. Missed this.”
“Stop.” My stomach swooped from the compliment.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
He leaned back on the pillow, the hotel lamp throwing gold across his shoulders.
I could hear the faint hum of the air conditioner through the phone, the steady rhythm of his breathing.
He looked handsome, strong, funny, caring.
He was the kind of guy I wished all my dates were like, yet none of them added up.
“What about you?” he asked finally, his lips curving up. “You doing okay there? Any update from your apartment?”