Chapter 8
Noelle
My best friend Sloane has claimed my couch, blanket over her legs, and a pint of cookie dough ice cream on her stomach.
I’m opposite her, in my oversized chaise with a bag of sour ropes candy in my hand.
We’re two peas in a pod with our love for sugar and a standing appointment every six months with the dentist, but of course, there could be worse things we could be addicted to.
“I went to that place, Club Trick, last week with your sister. You know, the night you were actively ignoring us.”
She raises a brow as I roll my eyes. “Some of us have to work.”
"That's all you do! You need to live a little. And besides, it wasn’t that bad. Bouncers handled the few guys that wouldn’t leave us alone.”
I wave my hand as she continues, “But the drinks were outstanding.” I shrug, and she says, “Apps were really tasty, too. And the music? You’d love i–”
“Fine, whatever. Next time you go, I’ll go.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.” Sloane does a little wiggle in the chair, knowing she won, and I go back to rummaging through my candy bag, titles for this article running through my mind.
Not a saint after all.
No one’s perfect, and I know why.
Nik Papas: Fraudulently Sexy.
“You’re doing it again,” she says without glancing up from scrolling on her phone.
“Doing what?”
“The Saint Nik glare. Like you’re plotting his downfall.” She sits up a little, letting her phone fall to the side as she picks up her spoon and digs back into her ice cream. “How did the game up north go?”
“They won, he saved the day despite having a couple of missed catches, and then avoided the press.” I don’t tell her how I found him in the hallway of the hotel later that night.
I’m still trying to figure it out myself—why he called himself a fraud and why he reached for me.
And most of all, why I wanted him to keep reaching.
Sloane chuckles. “I know you’re disgruntled–”
“I’m not disgruntled.”
“You’re irritated.”
“I have a job to do.”
“Okay, so do it. He’s a good guy, Noelle. Charities, family-oriented. Let the guy have a great rookie year,” she says with a smug grin.
I roll my eyes, but the heaviness in my chest doesn’t budge. “Good guys don’t exist.” It comes out half-mutter and more ‘woman scorned’ than I intend.
That gets her attention. She lowers the spoon. “You’re still thinking about Dylan?” That name slices clean through me. When my reply is a raised eyebrow, she sits up even straighter. “Okay, we’re doing this. Talk to me.”
Dylan Carter. The newsroom golden boy. My partner on late-night stakeouts and coffee runs, which quickly turned into whispered promises that we were building something together.
Until the night our breakthrough story ran, his byline on the front page, mine erased like I’d never existed.
He got the promotion, and I got to smile through the knife in my back.
Then I got to watch him move on from our paper, and me, and make his way onto the New York Times. Oh, with his fiancée.
At least he moved out of state.
“I don’t want to talk about him.” It’s been six years, but that betrayal cut deep and taught me I can’t trust what I see and the only one I can depend on is myself.
I lean back, burying into my lounge chair and aggressively biting on another candy rope.
“Everyone acts like Nik’s some kind of miracle.
They’re claiming he’s rookie of the year after eight games.
Eight freaking games. Even I know that’s insane.
And he’s the charity darling giving out gifts to every kid in that hospital that he paid for. Where does he get all his money?”
“I’m sure his signing bonus was decent.”
I shake my head, already knowing his signing bonus bought his mom a new house in Philadelphia as well as a house here in Mistletoe Falls for when she visits during the season.
“He still has too much for a young guy.” I wave my hand, dismissing that fact, and move on.
“And you know what else? He’s the fucking boy next door with perfect teeth, a perfect smile.
Perfect fucking hair that drapes just so over his forehead.
” My voice rises with each point, and Sloane stifles a laugh. “None of it’s real!”
Sloane leans forward. “You’re projecting what happened with Dylan onto Nik. And unless you’re planning on dating Nik, I don't know why any of this is an issue?”
I narrow my eyes on her. “I’ve fallen for charm before,” I say, my voice low. “And I was the one left picking up the pieces while he shook hands and took the credit.” My throat burns. “Once was enough.”
“So don’t fall for his charm.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“He’s young.” She tilts her head. “Why don’t you take him for a spin, break this dry spell?”
I throw the last piece of my candy at her, ignoring the fact that the butterflies have been dancing in my belly since meeting Nik. “Young guys don’t know shit.”
“They don’t have to know shit. They’re eager to learn, so just point him in the right direction and enjoy the ride.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I huff out, and she giggles at me.
“And you love me for it.” For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then Sloane sighs, softer now. “At some point, you have to let someone in. Even if you were to go there, which you’re not, Nik isn’t Dylan.”
“No.” I turn, my smile brittle. “He’s worse. Dylan had cracks you could see if you looked hard enough. I chose to ignore them. But Nik?” I let out a laugh with no humor in it. “Nik’s almost too flawless. And the shinier the halo, the darker the shadow behind it.”
Sloane tilts her head and shrugs. “Or maybe he’s just good.”
“Please.” I cross my arms, keeping myself in check. “Everyone’s hiding something. He barely gives me the time of day to interview him. He avoids the questions, and side steps other answers when he actually gives them.”
“So that’s why you’re mad? He won’t talk to you?”
I’m mad because I saw a different side to him when I found him in the hotel hallway. And that’s the Nik Papas we need. Not perfect, just real.
“I’m mad because I’ve got a job to do, and Saint Nik? He won’t fool me. I’ll find the crack. That’s what I do.”
But even as I say it, the ache in my chest lingers because I know I’m not just chasing his truth.
I want to know him, I want to see him, and I want him to see me.
But when I find the crack, which I will, what happens then?
Most likely just end up being another broken encounter I’ll have to heal from.