Chapter 9 #2
“I’m good,” I said. “They’re starting repairs next week. It’ll still be months. But the desk setup at your place works great, and Sassy’s living her best life. Gosh, Miles ran toward her today when I picked him up.”
He smiled again. “I bet. She’s a good influence on Miles. That dog looks at him like he hung the moon.”
“He probably thinks he did,” I said softly.
Noah’s expression shifted—not quite a smile, not quite sadness. “You know, it’s weird not being home. Usually, I’m fine on the road. I like the quiet. Love being in hotels. I know it’s weird, but hotels are one of my favorite things. But tonight… it’s different. I can’t settle down.”
“How so?”
He hesitated. “Because the place actually feels like home now. And I’m not there.”
The words hit like a soft punch. I swallowed, forcing a smile I wasn’t sure reached my eyes. “We’ll hold it down for you.”
“I know you will.” His voice dropped, just above a whisper. “Em?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for being there,” he said. “For him. For me.”
I tried to keep my tone light, but my heart was pounding. “You can thank me when you win.”
He grinned again, but his eyes didn’t move off mine. “Deal.”
There was another long pause—one of those silences that wasn’t awkward, just… charged. The kind that made it hard to breathe.
“Get some sleep, Abbott,” I said finally, breaking it before I could drown in it.
“Working on it,” he said, voice low. “Night, Em.”
“Night.”
The call ended, and for a second, I sat there staring at my reflection in the black screen. My pulse was too fast. My chest felt too full. And even with the phone face down, I swore I could still hear his voice in the quiet room.
By Saturday morning, Miles and I had fallen into a rhythm.
Breakfast, a walk with Sassy, a run to the craft store where Miles insisted on buying glitter glue for Sassy’s “collar upgrade.” He glued three foam stars to it and declared her a superhero.
Watching him brought me back to those tough years of watching Daniel and Penny all the time.
The trips to the store, the tears, the laughter, the high energy.
The memories made me smile, and I quickly sent Penny a text.
Em: miss your cute face
Penny: why are boys idiots?
Em: girl, I could write a book about it. I thought you were dating Glenn?
Penny: He wants time to think. What is there to think about? Ugh. Also mom and dad are so annoying. They grounded me for getting a C.
I chuckled. Penny had always been and would be dramatic, and I loved her for it. Almost sixteen—the age I was when everything fell apart in our family. Thankfully for her, she got to live a normal, boring life.
Sunday felt heavier. Game day. The TV schedule had been playing commercials for it all week—the Rampage’s season debut, away at Dallas, prime-time kickoff. Miles had been bouncing off the walls since breakfast.
“Uncle Noah’s gonna win,” he said, wearing his little Rampage jersey that hung halfway to his knees. It was too large. He needed a kid size, one that matched his frame. “He’s the strongest.”
“He is,” I said, smiling. “You ready to watch him?”
He nodded, clutching the remote like it was a lucky charm.
We settled on the couch, Sassy curled up between us, the smell of popcorn filling the room.
The game opened with the national anthem, the camera sweeping across the field.
And then there he was—Noah, front row, helmet under his arm, chin tilted just slightly up. My chest tightened.
I’d seen him play a hundred times before, back in college. I used to watch him from the stands, tucked into one of his too-big sweatshirts. It was different now. He wasn’t mine—he never was—but seeing him there, bigger and calmer than I remembered, made something ache deep in my chest.
Miles pointed. “That’s him! That’s Uncle Noah! Look at him!”
“I see him,” I said, my voice catching just a little. “He looks ready.”
“Uncle Noah blocks the bad guys,” Miles explained solemnly, like he was teaching me. “He keeps the quarterback safe.”
“That’s right,” I said softly. “He protects people. That’s his job.”
Sassy barked once, startled by the crowd noise, then settled again, her head in Miles’s lap. He absently petted her ears, completely focused on the screen.
The game kicked off, and for the next two hours, Miles gave me a running commentary that made me smile through every snap. He gasped when the defense sacked the QB, cheered when the Rampage converted on third down, and yelled “Go Uncle Noah!” every time number seventy-two hit the field.
Somewhere in the third quarter, his energy started to fade. His head tilted against my arm, and his voice slurred mid-sentence. “Uncle Noah’s winning,” he murmured, half-asleep.
“He’s doing great,” I whispered back. His breathing evened out, soft and steady. I shifted just enough to rest my chin lightly on his hair. He smelled like kid shampoo and popcorn. Sassy sighed beside us, pressing closer.
The game ran long. Noah’s line held, clean and solid. The commentators even mentioned his name once—veteran presence, great anchor in the pocket—and pride surged through me, stupid and full. When the final whistle blew and the Rampage knelt out the clock, I smiled into the quiet living room.
Miles was dead asleep, curled under my arm. Sassy’s paw rested protectively over his leg. The TV’s glow flickered over all three of us, casting the room in that late-night blue that felt like memory.
I muted the postgame coverage and looked down at the sleeping boy beside me. “He did it,” I whispered. “Your uncle did it.”
Sassy thumped her tail softly, as if she understood.
I stayed like that for a long time—holding onto the warmth, the stillness, the strange sense of peace that settled over me. Watching Noah on that field made something inside me ache with pride and something else I didn’t have the courage to name.
When my phone buzzed, I reached for it carefully. A message from him.
Noah: We won! Give the kid a hug for me.
I smiled, typing back quickly.
Me: We saw. He fell asleep cheering for you. You did great, Abbott.
Three dots blinked, then vanished.
A minute later, another buzz sounded.
Noah: Get some sleep, Em. See you tomorrow.
I set the phone face down on the coffee table and looked back at the TV, the screen now showing replay highlights. Noah was there again, grinning at something off-camera, his helmet tucked under his arm, the stadium lights cutting across his face.
I watched him until the network cut to commercials, then leaned back against the couch, running a hand through Miles’s hair. “Goodnight, you two,” I murmured.
The house was quiet, except for the hum of the TV and Sassy’s slow, sleepy breaths.
I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself it didn’t matter how excited I was for him to come back.
Our friendship wasn’t like that. We were friends.
Old friends with a past. Trust. Those were hard to find.
Noah didn’t view me that way anyway. Sure, he’d tease me, but I did the same to him. It didn’t mean anything.
My life was a mess. He had Miles. The season had just started for him, and I had my opportunity to really make a name for myself with my designs.
I wasn’t sure what this little crush was, if it was even that, but there was no place for it. Not now. Noah needed a friend to rely on, and that was what I’d be.