Chapter 27
Noelle
Our time in Houston was well spent, but it ended quickly.
I should have known it was just a caught-in-the-moment type thing, a feeling of being in a town no one knows us.
The drinks and quaint hotel room added to the allure of a night that was unforgettable.
Touchdown Towers was a place I’ll never forget, a separate world, masked in a football dreamscape, but it quickly throws you back to reality the moment you leave its doors.
I don't want to admit Nik was the best I ever had. He was fun and skilled at what he does. I found myself daydreaming about more, about a life outside of football and news reports. About weekends by the lake, or winters by the fire. I feel I got a look at the real Nik.
But dreaming of a love-filled life was never in my plans after Dylan.
That type of betrayal hurt deep and honestly turned me into someone cold and unrecognizable.
But being that person helped me climb the professional ladder.
At thirty years old, I’ve achieved more than most. I’m proud of that.
My name is on five-star articles. Press releases that drove public questions and scrutiny, for which I’m not sorry, have my name signed on the bottom.
I won't apologize for my work ethic, and I won't apologize for guarding my heart.
But I let that guard fall in Houston.
And when we touched back down in Mistletoe Falls, I knew I had to put that wall back up.
I couldn’t let myself get caught up with him.
Sure he said and did everything right behind closed doors, but what happens in the outside world?
His fame mixed with my tell-all world can only end badly.
So I had to make that night disappear, I had to push it from my mind and the second I did, I felt the loss immediately.
I didn’t know how to handle it, so I ignored him and everything that had happened.
And I completely ignored the fact that I stole the key card from the hotel, tucking it away to be nothing but a memory.
I crashed and slept fitfully. When I awoke in the morning, Nik had already gone to training.
Stone let me know he was there, but left me alone to work.
I stumbled from my room, hungover from amazing sex, grabbed coffee from the kitchen and spent the day in a bubble researching and beginning the opening lines of this piece my editor is begging for.
Before I knew it, the day grew past dinner, and I realized he wasn’t coming back.
I left the corner of the living room I had been holed up in all day and tried to keep busy by doing some laundry.
Only when I took everything back to my room, did I find a bowl full of candy on my bedside table.
Nerd ropes, sour candy, and push pops filled the bowl.
And my closet was already full. Clothes in my size with tags on them: jeans, sweaters, dresses.
I checked the drawer where I had put a few T-shirts and found bras and underwear.
Lacy, sexy ones. They were gorgeous, actually, and I found myself feeling jealous because whose stuff was this?
“What the hell?”
I went into the bathroom and found my brand of shampoo, conditioner, and face wash. Everything down to my makeup. It was everything I used. I grabbed a couple of shirts, still on the hanger, and hurried out into the hall.
“Stone?”
He looks up from his seat, and I freeze. There’s a love seat and table, a small television, and even a mini fridge at the end of the hall. It’s like a cozy waiting room outside of the condo door.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I wave my hand at the little setup. “What is this?”
“Boss has me here permanently while Nik is at the field. This was here when I got in.”
“But you’ve been staying in the guest room on the other side of the condo.”
He nods and glances back at the television. “I don’t know why he did it, but I like it. A different space is good. Plus I won’t bother you while you’re working.”
I walk closer to him, jumping slightly when the door shuts behind me. “Dante did this? Or Nik?”
He shrugs and throws his arm across the back of the love seat. “I’m guessing Dante did since he sent me here.”
I shake my head, holding up the shirts, tags hanging. “Would you know anything about the clothes in my closet? And toiletries? And candy?”
His eyes flick to the screen, then back to me. “That was Nik. He made a few calls, then sent me to pick things up.”
“Why didn't you just take my stuff from my apartment?”
“If anyone comes back, he wants it to look like you’re still living there. I was told only to grab a few of your items from there.” He gives a sly look. “And to feed your sugar addiction.”
I stand there, my mind spinning. It was too much, too planned, too Saint Nik.
I turn around, leaving Stone where he is, enter the code to the condo, and walk back to my room, touching the items in my closet.
Every item is me, in both color and size.
And I’m not sure how I feel about it. It wasn’t a romantic gesture.
It was a strategy. Stone said he did it because he didn’t want them to think I had left.
But if they’re watching me, like he says, they’d know I haven’t been home.
But the thoughtfulness part? That was the worst part because some traitorous part of me liked that he did it.
~~
Sometime around eleven at night, I hear Nik enter the condo.
I leave my room and walk down the hallway.
Seeing him in the kitchen, I take a seat on the couch and watch him.
He’s in a suit and looking amazing. It hits me, he could have been on a date tonight.
And for whatever reason, that makes me mad.
He turns and sees me sitting there, but I give him nothing. I just eye him in silence until he cracks.
“Something wrong?”
“You planning on buying me a new identity, to match the new clothes in my closet?”
“Only if the one you’re living in isn’t safe anymore.”
His answer hits me sharp as a knife, but something about him feels off.
I don’t know if it’s because we’re in this awkward space of what comes next.
Or if he had a bad day and it has nothing to do with me.
I want to tell him what I found while researching online, but I've no idea how to even bring it up. He doesn’t say much about his sister to begin with, so I don't want to offend him with my thoughts. But the clothes, makeup … and lingerie, it’s too much, and I don't understand why he’s doing it.
So, I talk. Maybe if I give a little, he will, too.
I sigh and grab the pillow, holding it in my lap. “I don’t do well with others controlling my life, Nik.”
He grabs a water bottle, loosening his tie as he walks toward me. I'm immediately taken back to our night at the hotel and how he looked in a suit. How he looked stripping out of said suit and how he felt against me in his birthday suit.
Focus, Noelle.
“I’m doing my best to give you what you need while you’re here.”
That's a loaded statement if I ever heard one. I take a breath and let it out, trying to calm myself and trying to understand how I got here. The room falls silent, but neither of us moves.
“My first job out of college was for a sleazy online gossip site. My boss was a complete chauvinist and felt that all women were good for lying on our backs. And that’s how he would push us to get the details for stories he wanted to break.
The first story I turned in was scratched to pieces and shoved back in my face. ”
He stands on the other side of the couch, and I notice his hands clench at his sides, but he doesn’t say anything.
“He told me, ‘When you learn to write an article worth publishing, come see me.’ He grabbed my ass and leered at me, saying he’d teach me how it’s done around here.”
“And you fucking stayed there?”
I shrug. “I was young, needed the paycheck, and told myself it’s just a stepping stone. I lasted another two months before the sexual harassment just about broke me. I walked out and did some freelance writing, accompanied by waitressing in dive bars to make rent.”
His jaw ticks, but he doesn't say a word.
“Then I worked for another well-known paper. I was paired with someone.” I swallow hard. “We worked well together, our investigative approach was similar, and the writing was amazing. But on a major breaking story, he claimed ownership and left me hanging out to dry.”
“He took credit for your work,” he says so bluntly, and it hurts.
I nod. “Yup.”
He studies me. “You were dating?”
How can he see me so clearly? I inhale, closing my eyes before opening them and answering. “We were. Until that article was published, and then he ended up leaving and going to New York City.”
His eyes swarm with darkness, anger lying just below the surface. “Meeting my editor at Falls Press was an amazing turning point in my career. She believed in me and gave me a chance to prove how much I wanted it.”
I’ve been with her for five years now, slowly climbing and learning what it takes to find a good story, then put it into words that make it shine.
So, Nik’s story? It’s big, and I feel I owe it to her.
And she’s recognizing my work. But honestly, this story feels like it’s been blown to pieces before I can even get to the bottom of it.
There are so many layers and what-ifs that shouldn’t be told until I can get proven facts.
Also, I can’t write if I’m dead.
“I have a certain way of thinking, and not just professionally, but I use those methods to get me through personally, too. I need to see my narrative; I can’t have others pull it from me. And that’s what’s been happening. So I fight to keep hold of my own pen, you know?”
He watches me for a moment before asking, “Is that why this sophomore game is so fascinating to you?”
“Yes. I think it’s more than just a lost game, and I think it had a big effect on everyone involved that still carries through to today.”