Chapter 2
Two
Noah
“Ughh,” I grunt as I push through the final rep, racking the bar before rolling my shoulders and sitting up.
With a heaving chest, I bend and grab my sipper, squeezing it straight into my mouth.
“Fuck, daddy, that was awesome!” Sebastian, the rookie right winger, sings from behind the equipment where he was spotting me.
I choke on water, and it sputters out of my mouth at the obnoxious words that leave his. The arena gym fills with the raucous laughter of the guys, no matter how hard they try not to.
Wiping off the spilled water with the back of my hand, I mutter, “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
He flashes me a huge, playful grin, not a lick of fear on his face. “You, Papi. You’re what’s wrong with me,” he says, making the guys holler again.
I lower my head between my shoulders and pinch the bridge of my nose, though I feel my own lips twitch. “For fuck’s sake.”
Ezra, the Boston Bandit’s captain and my best friend, walks over to Seb, clapping his back as he wipes the sweat from his forehead. “Don’t bother him, Seb.”
“I’m not—”
“Thank you,” I sigh, feeling grateful for his interference. But that’s soon erased.
“Don’t you know Daddy gets hangry after his workout?” Ezra winks at Seb, whose grin only widens.
The bastard.
Oliver, our center, sidles close to us and shares his two cents, his hands crossed at his naked chest. “But Daddy is too responsible to mess up his diet. I’m sure he has plant-y food already stocked in his fridge,” he chirps, indicating my vegetarian lifestyle choices.
Becoming a vegetarian is a choice I didn’t make lightly. My high cholesterol levels have caused doctors to advise me to avoid animal products as much as possible. Choosing the vegetarian diet was the only logical next step for me when my blood test reports were alarming.
“How about we skip the food talk and have some real food instead? There’s this cool diner, Molly’s, I discovered last week,” Seb says, rubbing his belly.
Usually, I’m up for a good time with my teammates, but tonight, I’m just feeling weirdly low and can’t bring myself to entertain more of people’s presence and put myself in a social setting when I know I won’t be a good sport.
So, without a word, I get up and grab my towel from the gym bag lying on the floor. As I head to hit the showers, Ezra’s voice stops me. “You not coming, Noah?”
“Nah, man. Gonna take a quick shower and head home,” I reply with a slight shake of my head.
Ezra’s brows furrow in concern, his playful expression bleeding out. “All good? Need me?”
I appreciate the guy. I don’t know what I did to find a best friend like him, but you won’t see me complaining. In the years I’ve known him, we’ve only grown closer. Not to say that all the other guys are not close—they’re family for all purposes.
But with Ezra, it feels like I have known him all my life, even when I haven’t. We met only when he was drafted by the Boston Bandits almost five years ago. He was cocky as a rookie, too, but not like Seb. Seb’s a whole other level of crazy. I treasure the kid regardless.
I treasure them all. But tonight, I need to prioritize my well-being.
So, with a slight tilt of my lips, I assure Ezra. “It’s just one of those nights, dude. I’ll be fine.”
His worry doesn’t ease as he walks over to me, the guys getting lost in their own chatter. “Promise to call me?”
“Don’t steal my spot as the team’s daddy,” I quip with a roll of my eyes, trying to lighten him up.
He doesn’t. I squeeze his shoulder. “I promise to call you if I need you.” Ezra’s shoulders sag with relief at my words. “Now, off you go. Have some fun!”
His eyes light up, and I know he’s going to mention her. “I think I’m gonna skip too. Kaeli decided to bake a frosted cake today,” he reveals and licks his lip, his eyes gleaming with wicked intentions.
I jab his stomach as I shut my eyes dramatically. “Dude, I don’t need that visual!” He only laughs at my misery, and so do I.
When our laughter subsides, I turn around and leave. Swinging the towel over my shoulder, I yell without looking back. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”
His voice follows me into the shower stall, “That’s quite literally gonna be difficult, considering your single and celibate ass.”
The fucker! I flip him a middle finger even though he can’t see it.
The second the cold water hits my muscles, a breathy sound escapes my mouth. The tense muscles start to loosen, and it feels too good to focus on anything else but this.
By the time I leave the gym, almost all the guys are gone. Deciding to walk home, I take the sidewalk. I had been lucky to have found an apartment so close to the arena. It’s honestly thanks to my agent, David’s, contact.
I signed with him shortly after being accepted into Northern Michigan University on a full scholarship. Since then, he has been guiding me and has yet to lead me astray. His age, experience, and kindness make him more of a father figure to me than my own.
Thinking about my family, my parents, is usually enough to spoil my mood. I think better of it and try to divert my thoughts from them to literally anyone or anything else. Suddenly, someone’s shoulder knocks into mine, and I startle out of my brain and into the real world.
“Sorry,” I mutter under my breath, trying to hide my face with the bill of my cap, hoping to pass by unrecognized.
The man rushes by in a hurry, uncaring about me, thankfully. I swivel around to be on my way when she snatches my eyes, and I halt right there in the middle of the sidewalk.
There she is—the woman who’s so fucking far out of my reach—helping an older woman cross the busy streets of Boston.
My lips lift into a smile on their own accord. Andie Moore truly is one of a kind. When the people couldn’t care less about anyone else but themselves, she finds it in her heart to take care of those around her with a smile, even the people she doesn’t know.
The light gust of wind makes the dress she’s wearing flare at her hips, giving a peek to anyone who’s looking at her skin underneath.
My hands fist as I dig my nails into the palm of my hand, reminding myself that she’s not mine, she can never be mine. All she is is my best friend’s sister.
I screw my eyes shut and take a deep breath. When I open them, I see her muttering something to herself and entering the newly opened Italian restaurant.
I wonder why she’s here alone. Is she meeting someone? Should I say hi? What if she doesn’t wanna be disturbed? What if she’s on a date?
The last possibility infuses my blood with something foreign, something I don’t wish to dwell on. I must be out of my mind if I think she’d want to see me when she could be having the night of her life.
Shaking my head, I swing my gym bag over my shoulder and head over to my place.
Within the next few minutes, I’m at the main entrance of my high-rise building, wondering if she’s having fun with whoever she met.
If he’s funny enough to earn himself those hearty laughs. If she’s going home with him tonight.
I despise it.
Loath it.
Hate that I care about what and who she does.
I shouldn’t care about her. I don’t.
It’s because of Ezra I’m worried about her. Yes. Andie is his baby sister, and I know he wouldn’t want her going home with a weirdo or getting into a situation where she’s uncomfortable. Not that she needs my help or anything.
The doorman frowns at me as I burn the path in front of the building, pacing relentlessly. I give him an assuring smile, which I’m sure looks more like a grimace.
But in this moment, I can’t bring myself to care. All I can think about is her with some guy who doesn’t know her worth. Or some guy who does.
You know what? I’ll go and quickly check on her. No harm in making sure she’s good, right? That’s what Ezra would do if he were in my place.
Right!
I convince myself that going back is the only logical answer. “Hey, Dan, could you keep an eye on my bag for me. I have to go and take care of something real quick. I’ll grab it on my way back.”
He stretches his gloved hands out, uncertain about how restless I look. I extend my hand to give him the bag, yet hesitate to let go when he clasps it.
Should I really go?
Then, suddenly, an image of Andie wrapped around someone else invades my mind, and all doubts wash away.
“Fuck it!” With that, I dash away, zooming past the folks who have no idea who I am.
I cease right in front of the restaurant, hands on my hips, and chest heaving with anticipation, and not the energy I put in.
Turning my cap backwards and removing an invisible piece of lint, I bound the stairs two at a time.
I attempt to hide my nerves, but the commotion inside instantly dissipates any and everything I’d been feeling up until now and gives way to real hot anger.
I’ve never wanted the first murder to be pardoned in literally any court of law as intensely as I want it in this moment when I see whoever the motherfucker is publicly spouting the highest level of bullshit at Andie.
The way she’s cowering, her shoulders hunching, wishing she were anywhere but here, has me wanting to give my two cents to him.
But then the asshat had to go try to physically hurt her, making me change my mind and give him more than just my words, sending me charging at him like an angry bull at a red flag.
Fuck, no! No one can hurt her—not while I’m still breathing.