17. Kate #2
“Brought my famous blueberry muffins,” she calls out with that warm, singsong tone of hers, holding up a tin covered with a floral kitchen towel. “Thought I’d share with the prettiest bunch of women on this side of the field.”
She’s smiling wide as she approaches, cheeks flushed from the sun, her fire department polo tucked neatly into her jeans. The scent of vanilla and warm sugar follows her like a comfort blanket, and it makes me smile.
She sets the tin down on the bleacher bench between us and leans in with a teasing smile. “Your boys look happy out there.”
My heart stumbles.
My boys ?
I glance automatically toward the field, and just like that—there they are.
Noah is crouched low on one knee, catching Parker mid-run as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Parker’s arms are flung around his neck in a full-bodied hug, his little legs off the ground. And Noah… he’s smiling.
Smiling like he's found something he never thought he'd have again.
My heart stutters. My chest tightens, and something hot presses behind my eyes.
I try to laugh it off, pushing the feeling down so deep I barely recognize it. “They do make quite the pair,” I murmur, reaching for a muffin I’m not hungry for just to have something in my hands.
Emily arches a brow at me. “You know people are already saying it.”
I glance at her, confused. “Saying what?”
“That you, Parker, and Noah…” She lifts a shoulder in a delicate shrug, lips tugging upward. “Look like a family in the making.”
My mouth opens, then closes again. A flutter kicks up, and I don’t want to name it.
But the moment barely gets time to settle before it’s ripped apart by a voice that curls around me like smoke.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
I recognize the voice even before I turn around. Tara. Her tone is as sharp as the stilettos she shouldn’t be wearing on a field like this, and it cuts through the group like a breeze gone sour.
She approaches from behind with that polished, predatory smile that feels a little too tight. Her sunglasses are perched on her head like a crown, and her manicured fingers clutch a glittery water tumbler that looks out of place.
I can sense the disapproval from Emily, Rachel, and Ava already, but I rise slowly, careful to keep my expression neutral and polite.
She caught me off guard the last time, but now, I’m determined to be polite. My manners were drilled into me since before I could walk. I know how to handle women like her. Or at least… I used to.
“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of introducing each other,” I smile sweetly, extending a hand. “Hi. I’m Kate Sincl—”
The name catches in my throat like a thorn.
Sinclair .
My real name. One I don’t plan to use in Porthaven.
I blink, my heart thudding too loud as I catch myself.
“Montgomery,” I correct quickly, swallowing hard as I glance toward Emily, Ava, and Rachel, praying they didn’t notice the slip. “Kate Montgomery.”
Tara eyes me with the same expression someone might give a wine stain on white silk. Like she’s already decided exactly who I am and doesn’t like it.
She doesn’t take my hand.
Instead, her gaze drops, zeroing in on my wrist, where my grandmother’s vintage Cartier glints in the sunlight. Then higher, to the delicate gold chain at my collarbone, where my pendant rests—an heirloom from my mother’s side, barely visible beneath the neckline of my blouse.
Her eyes narrow. “That’s a pretty watch,” she says, voice honeyed but laced with bite. “And the necklace, too. Didn’t know art teachers made enough to afford real pieces like that.”
There’s a beat of silence, and it stretches just long enough to be dangerous.
What is her problem?
I smile softly, feigning sheepishness with a breathy laugh. “The necklace was a gift, and the watch… let’s just say I'm really good at finding hidden gems on clearance racks."
Ava snorts into her muffin.
Rachel lifts a brow, amused.
Emily reaches over to casually dust a crumb from my shoulder like nothing happened, but I catch the way her gaze flicks between me and Tara.
Tara doesn’t look convinced, but she smiles anyway. One of those slow, smug grins. “Hmm. Clearance,” she repeats before stepping back, flipping her sunglasses down over her eyes. “Well, some of us know how to work for what we have. Enjoy the game.”
She struts off, hips swaying, her perfume trailing behind her like an insult.
I sit back down slowly, the muffin still untouched in my hand.
Emily bumps her knee into mine. “You handled that like a queen.”
“Barely,” I whisper.
Rachel leans over. “Remind me again why she’s always here?”
“She idolizes Noah,” Ava deadpans. “And she would do anything to make him notice her.”
I exhale, letting myself laugh quietly even though I'm still rattled by the exchange.
But even as the moment passes, I can’t shake the feeling Tara’s eyes left behind. The way she saw something I didn’t mean for anyone to see.
And I wonder, how much longer can I keep this version of me separate from the truth?
Because the more I let myself fall into this life, the harder it’s getting to keep the two apart.
By the time the game winds down, the sun hangs lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the field. My legs are stiff from sitting, but I don’t move. I sit with the others, clapping politely as the kids line up for high-fives, their cheeks flushed and shirts sticking to their backs.
But my eyes keep drifting to the same place.
Noah.
He’s laughing at something Parker says; head tipped back, hands on his hips, body relaxed in a way I rarely see.
Parker’s bouncing at his side like a firework that hasn’t quite gone off yet, his voice too far for me to make out, but loud enough that I can hear his joy. And Noah, he’s soaking it in. Every bit of it. Smiling like that boy is his entire world.
A wave of longing hits before I can stop it—sharp, unwelcome, and far too familiar.
I rise slowly as they head our way; the bag of leftover snacks is lighter now, crumpled and damp from my tight grip.
“Mom!” Parker barrels toward me, his face bright with sweat and pride. “Did you see my hit?”
“I did, sweetheart.” I crouch and wrap him up in a hug, kissing his damp curls. “You were amazing.”
“Coach Noah said he’s gonna teach me how to slide next time,” he beams, then glances back at the man walking up behind him. “Can we go home with him today, too?”
The question makes me swallow hard.
Noah stops short, surprised. His gaze lifts, flicking to mine.
I stand, smoothing Parker’s hair as I force a smile. “Not today, baby. We’ve got some stuff to do at home, remember?”
Parker’s face falls. “But—”
“Coach Noah had a long day,” I add before he can argue. My voice is gentle, but my heart is thudding. “Let’s not wear him out more than you already did, okay?”
There’s a beat of silence where Parker pouts, and I feel Noah’s eyes on me, heavy and unreadable. I don’t look at him. I can’t. Not when everything in me wants to say yes.
But I know better now.
I won't let my son get used to something that could vanish without warning.
Noah crouches beside Parker, his voice low and easy. “Tell you what, bud—Blaze can walk you home. I bet he’s missed you.”
Parker lights up instantly. “Really?”
Noah grins. “Really.”