Chapter 62
JORDAN
A few days later, I spot Tate at the elevators and take a deep breath.
No more avoiding him.
“I’m sorry I ran out the other night.” I take the spot beside him and stare at the call button. I hate this honest thing. Tate always makes it seem so easy. “You have a kid, and that complicates everything. We can’t be casual.”
We can’t be casual because I’ll get my heart broken. What’s left of it, anyways.
“I think it’s best if we’re just friends,” I add, even though I don’t want to.
Being just friends with Tate Ward is like living off popcorn for the rest of my life. It’ll never be enough.
When he doesn’t say anything, I glance up—and my heart stops.
“Oh.” It’s not Tate. “I’m so sorry.”
He has Tate’s eyes and nose and the same color hair and even his amused and curious smile is similar, but it’s not Tate.
“I thought you were Tate,” I say, frozen in horror.
“Jordan Hathaway,” he says like he knows me. Like he’s happy to finally meet me.
“You must be Noah.”
There’s something cheeky in his expression. “What’s this about the other night with you and Tate?”
I can feel my expression of total fucking mortification. “Nothing.”
“It doesn’t sound like nothing.” His eyes are bright and curious. “It sounds like you guys are doing it.”
I choke. “We’re not—”
“Noah.” Tate appears between us, giving us an odd look. “I see you’ve met Jordan Hathaway.”
When they’re next to each other, it’s clear. Tate is the more handsome brother. Noah is good-looking, but Tate is something else. There’s this extra sheen to him beyond unearthly good looks and charisma.
Tate’s eyes flick to my collar. Is the necklace he bought me peeking out? I shouldn’t have worn it today, but it’s just so pretty.
Noah smiles down at me. “Yes, I’ve met your girlfriend.”
“No,” I rush out, eyes going wide. Fuck, I hope he doesn’t say anything else.
“Not my girlfriend,” Tate says with an edge to his voice. “My colleague.”
It’s what I wanted, and yet I deflate. It feels like we’re back at that charity event months ago, with Tate telling the woman at the front that we are definitely not together.
“Whatever you say,” Noah says with lifted eyebrows and a smile.
“How long are you in town for?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Just tonight. I flew in this morning for work and fly back to Toronto tomorrow morning. My colleagues are all on the red eye home, but I wanted to catch the game. Tate’s stuffing me up in your dad’s private box,” he tells me.
“Something about how I’ll tell embarrassing stories about him or something.
” He does an exaggerated confused expression and I can’t help but smile.
Maybe he’s not as handsome as Tate but Noah is supremely likable in the silly, friendly life-of-the-party way that Hayden Owens and Rory Miller and Georgia are. Like my mom was. Teasing is their love language.
“I’d pay a lot to hear those.”
“Join me,” he says.
“No.” Tate folds his arms over his chest. “She can’t.”
“I can’t?” He’s acting weird. If I didn’t know him better, I’d call this mood grumpy. “Why not?”
He chooses his words with care, taking a deep breath. “You always watch from the area outside the dressing room.”
“Sure, but I can watch from the box. That’s technically where I should be, in this role.” I shrug. “And Noah came all this way. He shouldn’t have to watch the game alone.”
Maybe he’ll tell me those embarrassing stories. We’re putting the whole thing that happened the other night behind us, but I can still tease Tate.
Noah’s smile sharpens. “I would love that, Jordan. I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
Tate’s gaze hardens as he stares at Noah and tension thickens in the air. I frown between them.
“Fine,” Tate says, looking away.
“Great. This is going to be fun.” Noah loops his arm around my shoulder, jostling me. Like Tate, he towers over me. I barely reach his shoulders. “Oh my god, you’re so cute,” he tells me with a grin. “You’re pocket-sized.”
I give him death eyes and Noah looks to Tate. “Does she bite?” he asks him.
“Yes,” I cut in.
Tate meets my eyes before he glances at Noah’s arm, still around my shoulder. “Keep up the short jokes and she might.”
Noah grins again. “Got it. Hey, Jordan, are you single?”
I give him a wary look. “Yes?”
“Really?” He frowns like he’s stupefied. “Not for long, I’m sure, with those eyes.” He winks at me.
“Noah.” There’s a warning tone to Tate’s voice. Something pulls tight in the air between them as Noah stares back, his mouth curved. “Behave.”
Noah’s eyes glitter. “I always do.”
Tate rolls his eyes. “You never do,” he mutters before he turns to me with a hesitant look. “I’ll see you after the game?”
“Sure.”
He looks like he wants to say more but turns and leaves.
“So, what’s going on with you and my brother?” Noah asks the second we get to my dad’s private box.
My face goes warm. “Nothing.”
“Well,” he gives me a knowing, lopsided smile, “you told me we should be just friends when you thought I was Tate, and people who have nothing going on don’t usually do that.”
Obviously, he’s a hundred percent right, and I don’t have any cards left in my deck.
“Kissing?” he prompts. “Hand stuff? Mouth stuff? Hey, you’re blushing. Does that mean I’m getting warmer?”
“Oh my god,” I laugh, shaking my head. “Tate’s right. You are annoying.”
He chuckles. His laugh sounds like Tate’s, but not as nice. “I’m just looking out for him. Tate takes care of everyone but himself.”
“I know.” I think about asking him if he missed hockey, and the idea I’ve been working on in my mind for the past week.
“He’s always been like that. Did he tell you about our dad?”
With my eyes on the ice as the players do their last warmups, I nod.
“Wow. He must really like you.”
“He doesn’t. Not like that.” I don’t know why I’m lying. He told me he wanted me. Maybe I just don’t want to think about it anymore. “We work together. We can’t date.”
“What’s the matter? He’s too old for you?”
I give him a look like, please. Tate makes forty look good.
“Because he had a drinking problem?”
“What? No. That’s not his fault. It’s admirable, how Tate has managed his alcoholism.”
“Is it his ex? Because Holly’s super cool, and she’s super curious and excited about you two.”
She is? Did Bea tell her about me? “He has a kid.”
“Yeah.” He makes a face. “Bea’s an annoying little shit, anyway.”
My jaw drops, and furious, protective rage throttles through me like my blood is jet fuel and Noah just lit a match.
“Fuck you,” I snap. “She’s perfect, and you’re a terrible uncle.”
He smiles. I walked right into his trap.
“You’re messing with me,” I say flatly.
“Yep.” He smiles more, like he got exactly what he wanted. “Small but fierce,” he mutters under his breath, and I laugh.
“Fuck off,” I say without heat. “You baited me.”
“So Bea’s not the problem, either.”
Do you want kids? Tate had asked a while ago. I said no.
Bea’s different, though.
“Everything is more serious with a kid. He can’t just mess around and have fun the way people normally would at the beginning of a relationship.”
I can’t tell him the deepest, darkest truth: that there’s no way Tate and I are long-term, no way he would choose me forever, and I can’t bear to hurt Bea by disappearing from her life.
And if we ended, I think I might have to disappear.
It would be too painful to see Tate every day, see him move on and date and marry someone lovely.
See Bea fall head over heels for her and give her drawings for her fridge and play guitar for her.
Noah’s quiet for a moment, watching as the game starts. “Well, Shorty, I’ll tell you this—”
“Don’t call me short.”
“Tate’s a monk. The guy doesn’t date, doesn’t get jealous, doesn’t do anything that conflicts with his kid or his team.”
He got jealous about me, though, months ago. And he lost control with me during the power outage.
“And he sure as hell doesn’t look at women the way he looks at you.”
A startled flock of butterflies takes flight in my chest. What way?
“He takes care of everyone but himself, and he always says he doesn’t need anything but his team and his kid, but I don’t know.” He shrugs, leaning forward to find his brother on the bench, looking so sharp and strong in his suit. “It would be nice for him to have someone, too.”
“Yeah.” I study him down on the bench, thinking about sitting on the sofa together and listening to music during the power outage, and how right it felt. “I know.”
Deep down, I want it to be me.