

* * * *

Back to Me

A Carolina Rebels Novel

Copyright © 2016 by Lindsay Paige

Smashwords Edition

ISBN-13: 978-1370578160

All rights reserved.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Newsletter Sign Up:

Stay up-to-date on books, news, sales, and giveaways by signing up for my newsletter! <http://eepurl.com/hqcTw>

***

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Coming Soon

Carolina Rebels Roster

The worst part of flying somewhere is waiting in the airport beforehand. Being in a plane thirty-some thousand feet above the air doesn't bother me, neither does the takeoff or landing. But every minute I have to sit in an uncomfortable chair, watching the numbers tick by until it's time to board, messes with my nerves. I can't stand it. It doesn't help that my life is a complete and utter mess, and I'm either about to make the biggest mistake ever or put the pieces of my life back together.

How do things get so far off track? I had dreams and a plan to make them all come true. I even sacrificed the love of my life because I deemed my career more important. Now, my dreams have crashed into reality and I'm going to have to end it before I'm ready. This isn't how I imagined myself at twenty-six, or any other age if I'm honest. Everything is wrong and has fallen apart. It'll be a miracle if my spontaneous decision actually helps. I can't help but be skeptical, since I've tried to always plan my life. I _need_ a plan. Look at where that got me. An injured shoulder once again that led to surgery. If it wasn't for a stupid car accident not even three days later, my intensive physical therapy might have paid off. I think I would be done with physical therapy at this point had it not been for re-injuring my shoulder in the accident and causing further damage. So here I am facing an early retirement after a publicly called-off engagement.

I've spent the last six months retracing my steps. Where did I go wrong? What part of my planning caused the first misstep to land me where I am now? Every time I come back to one decision.

Leaving Noah.

That has to be where I went wrong. Obviously, I should've chosen to prioritize love over my career. I've spent so much time lately feeling guilty for leaving him, especially since it seems it was for nothing, or pissed off that my damn plan couldn't have worked out like I wanted. My thoughts trail back to everything that's happened. My life was good for a while after we broke up. I missed him terribly, of course, but things were proceeding just like I'd hoped. My life was on course.

Until it wasn't.

Now, I'm full of regrets, thinking of what would've happened had I taken a different path.

If I'd never left, then I would have never gotten engaged to Vance. I never would have had to experience the terrible things I did with him. So much would've been different had I been with Noah. I just know it.

My eyes flick to the TV screen and I see that only two freaking minutes have passed.

God, I'm insane!

What am I doing? I haven't spoken to Noah in years, ever since we started pursuing our careers. I don't know if he's seeing someone or if he will want to see me. Things ended well enough, but that doesn't mean anything now. I'm walking into the unknown with my only plan of action being to find him and hope for the best.

Hope for the best!

What kind of crazy person does that?

Sure, a lot of people do, but I don't!

I can't do this. Nope. This is a crazy, stupid idea. I need more time to think and come up with what exactly I'm going to do. I need a damn plan. I'm sure Noah wouldn't want me to show up right now anyway. I reach for my carry-on when I hear that voice. It can't be.

Can it?

"Meredith Quick! I don't believe it."

My head snaps up to locate him as my heart immediately launches from my chest and into the arms of the man I haven't seen in so long. My smile is automatic as I stand. The nerves from waiting to board intensify as I take him in. He's an even six feet with a bit of scruff on his face, his black hair hanging down to his chin, and brown eyes shining to complete the image of perfection. Before I can speak, he drops his bag into the chair next to mine, wraps his arms around me, and picks me up for a rib-crushing bear hug.

"Noah Ramsey," I say into his neck. Before my body can catch up with my mind, I'm relaxing in his arms. It's as if the weight of all the stress I've been experiencing melts away with his arms around me. This is definitely the right decision. I hate to speak, but I must. "I can't breathe," I rasp because I honestly can't. He's squeezing the life out of me.

His chest shakes with his laughter as he sets me down. Those brown eyes flicker to the large television screen behind me. "This your flight, too?"

"Yeah, it is." We take a seat, angled toward one another, and I guess, "Shouldn't you be in Raleigh already?"

"Yeah. Ashley had a baby, so I flew home for a quick trip to meet my first nephew before things can get too crazy." His eyes are as bright as his smile. His excitement over the baby is clear.

"Congrats to her," I say with a genuine smile. "Excited to finally be an uncle?"

"Oh yeah. I can't wait to get the little guy into some skates and see how he does against me."

I smile. "Ah, yes. You're a big shot professional hockey player. How could I forget?" It's why I wondered why he wasn't home. It's September and hockey season will be starting soon. He should've been back already, but if his sister had a baby, it explains why he wasn't.

He matches my grin with his white teeth on display. "Hey, you're a big shot professional tennis player."

"Not if I'm forced to retire, Noah," I say solemnly, causing him to lose his smile. Everything wrong in my life seems to crash back into my mind, reminding me why I'm here.

Noah places his hand on my leg, mid-thigh, immediately distracting me. I'm wearing shorts, so he's touching bare skin, which starts to burn from his touch, a raging inferno of heat flushing throughout my body. God, how can a simple touch cause my stomach to suddenly explode with butterflies?

"You doing okay, Mere?"

Hearing him say _Mere_ jars me. It's like no time has passed at all since we last spoke, since we were last together. Could that correlate into an easy transition if we were to get back together?

To respond to his question, I nod. Oddly, I'm uncomfortable with the conversation, yet comfortable being around my ex-boyfriend. My emotions are like a see-saw, ranging from a high of happiness, excitement, a rush of wonderful memories, desire, and overwhelming love to a low of panic, terror, uncertainty, and pain rooted in my own action of walking away from him. All of those feelings are rising and falling constantly, giving me an emotional whiplash.

"So, what's taking you to Raleigh?" he asks.

Noah always knew when to change the subject. Something I loved about him, and something that hasn't changed. The relief from that causes me to relax a little as I shrug. I've been worried since I made the decision to see him about the possibility that the Noah I knew was long gone. He could've morphed into another person during our time apart.

"I needed a change and, out of all the flights going out today, I chose this one." The lie comes before I can think better of it. Maybe I should wait to I tell him that I came for him. I should find out about his life first. What if he has a girlfriend? I can't tell him if he does. Not to mention I need to figure out if getting back together is even an option for him. Just because he gave me a warm welcome and is inquiring about my life doesn't mean he wants to pick up where we left off.

Noah stares at me, his brows sky high. "Just like that? You almost sound like you decided to fly only today."

"I did."

"You're telling me that you didn't know yesterday, or three weeks ago, you were going to North Carolina today?" he asks with a load of skepticism. Noah knows that I'm a planner and making last-minute decisions goes against the grain of who I am.

"No. I woke up this morning, couldn't stand being at home anymore, and decided to leave. A lot has changed since we last saw each other, Noah," I tell him, glancing away to the television. We should be boarding any second now.

"Flight 482 to Raleigh will now board First Class."

Noah and I stand, forgoing conversation until we're in our seats. The charmer that he is, Noah convinces the older gentleman who is supposed to sit next to me to switch seats with him. He puts my carry-on bag in the overhead for me, too. I'm thankful because it would've been a bit painful for me to have done it myself. That's what I get for ignoring the signs which have made my shoulder that much worse.

I can't believe I'm sitting next to him. It's been so unbelievably long. And yet, I still want to crawl into his lap, kiss his lips, and very much make this a reunion of epic proportions.

But that can't happen.

I don't know anything about Noah's personal life. The last time I spoke to him was a moment of weakness a month after we broke up. Hell, I don't even know if he would want to reunite. The memories of us together become too much to handle with the uncertainty surrounding me. We hung out so much that our families became close. It would take hours to study and do homework because it was easy for us to get distracted and let our conversation go off on a tangent. However, we didn't need to talk all the time. Some of my favorite memories are of Noah simply holding me.

I've always regretted walking away from Noah. Planning to come back to him at some point didn't make me regret it any less. I couldn't have foreseen, or I chose to ignore the possibility of, how much I missed him, how much my life lacked the happiness that came with loving him and being with him, or how gigantic the void of his presence in my life would be.

It's been an overwhelming regret since my injury. Meeting him today was pure coincidence. Maybe it's a sign that I'm finally on the right track.

_Get a grip, Meredith._ _You can't start over where you left off._

I glance over at him as he switches his phone into airplane mode; mine is turned off already. He's wearing denim shorts and a white T-shirt that hugs his body a bit too much. There's a darkness on his chest over his heart that just can be seen beneath his shirt. My fingers reach over without my mind's permission before I can think about it.

"You still have it?" I ask, part-amazed, part-grateful, part-disbelieving. I pull his shirt down, probably stretching his collar some, and sure enough, my name is scrawled over his heart, untouched. My fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they trace the lettering.

"Hey, if you want a show, I charge," he laughs.

"Why haven't you covered that thing up or gotten it removed?"

He frowns. "Why in the hell would I do that?"

Oh, my heart.

He seems genuinely confused as to why he would. My brain is working fast as I reply, "Well, I doubt any girlfriend you have is happy to see another girl's name tattooed on your chest, unless her name is Meredith, too."

Noah laughs. "Yeah, most don't like it, but they usually know going in that I have it." He shrugs. "I've only had one ask if I was going to have it covered or removed."

"Really? I would've expected more than that." I pause, my hand returning to my lap as his shirt springs back into place. "Do you regret it? Your mother warned you, and we both told you it was a bad idea."

Yes, I told my then-boyfriend he was a crazy idiot to get my name tattooed on his body on his eighteenth birthday. Did I secretly love the idea? Yes, then and now. I still thought it was dumb for the sake of the unknown future. When I begged him not to get it, he laughed it off, reminded me how much he loved me, grabbing my hand, and then dragging me to the tattoo parlor. Nothing, and no one, could change his mind.

The doors are closing and we're preparing for takeoff. Noah ignores the sound of the pilot speaking and then the flight attendant as he leans over.

"If I regretted it, do you think I would still have it?" he whispers.

"Maybe," I answer weakly, hope beginning to surge through me. "You know, as a reminder or something."

"It is a reminder."

Right. Of course it is. A reminder that I broke his heart. He probably kept it so he wouldn't fall for someone like me, or fall for me again for that matter. I turn my head to look out the window. It hurts too much to look at him and I feel embarrassed for briefly having hope.

A shiver rocks my body when his lips move against my ear. "A reminder of the best time of my life and all I lost."

Because I walked away. Because I wanted to see what the world had to offer aside from Noah, and how could I do that if I was constantly trying to find time to see my boyfriend when I was playing tennis and he was in college playing hockey? I loved him, but I was _always_ with him. I couldn't shift through my memories without Noah being in every single one of them those last two years of high school. I needed some without him. That's what I thought, anyway. I thought I needed to shift my focus away from him completely if I was going to become a professional tennis player. To this day, it remains one of the hardest things I've ever done or dealt with.

Looking at him will be too hard, so I don't. At least, not for a few minutes. Not until we've been served drinks, and it's only because I'm a glutton for punishment and because I miss him.

"How are your parents?" he asks.

"Good. To this day, Mom and Dad like to remind me that I was stupid for leaving you."

He laughs. "Can you blame them? Look at what you're missing out on. Especially now. I'm kind of a big deal."

I laugh and shake my head at him. "Why are you asking, anyway? I know you talk to them."

Finally, I've surprised him. "I didn't think you knew, and I wasn't sure if you would be okay with it." He hesitates before adding, "Does that mean you know all about my life?"

Why would he hesitate? Is there someone he doesn't want me to know about? Or, has something happened that he wants to keep from me? "No," I answer him anyway. "They just say that you call. Do you want to fill me in on what I've missed?"

"Not until you have. What's the plan for Raleigh? You said you're going somewhere new on a whim, but I'm finding it hard to believe. You always have a plan, Mere. Always."

"Not this time," I whisper, turning to look back out the window. He's right. I always have a plan, but my plans blew up in my face and now I'm lost with so much uncertainty in my future that I can't stand it. I can't even come up with a new plan; I'm too lost to figure out where to start. Hell, if I'm honest with myself, I don't even have the want or will to make a new plan.

"Where are you staying? Do you know how long you'll be here?" I love his ability to change the subject when I need him to.

"I don't know to both." I lean my head against the seat, but turn to face him again. "I honestly don't have a plan. All I did was wake up this morning, pack a bag, and buy a ticket. I didn't think too far in advance." Other than wanting to see Noah at some point. Never have I done something without excessively planning it first, which is why Noah's jaw is about to fall off. "I'll find a hotel until I figure things out."

"You booked a flight without even having a place to stay? All you have is that carry-on?" He stares at me, concern clouding those brown eyes. It's like he doesn't recognize me anymore and he probably doesn't. I don't even recognize myself. Noah flips my hand over on the armrest and intertwines my fingers with his. "What the hell happened, Mere?" His voice is so low, so tender, and so worried. His gaze scours mine as if I've hidden information in them for him to find. "This is so out of character for you. Is it more than your injury? Is it...is it something with your," he swallows hard before finishing, "former engagement?"

"Leave it alone, Noah," I quietly beg. I force myself to glance away from him. There's a chance I could blurt everything out if I let those eyes get to me. "I'm fine. Doing something new and spontaneous doesn't mean I'm a mess or that I'm crazy." Except in my case, it means exactly that.

He stares at me for a long time and I know he doesn't believe me. "You're staying with me," he eventually says.

I pull my hand from his. "What? No, I'm not." That would be a bad idea. The _worst_ idea. Yes, I came down here to hopefully get back together, but staying with him wasn't part of that. I can't do it, even if part of me is begging myself to accept his offer.

"Only until you figure out what you're doing. There's no sense in you staying in a hotel room when I have a home that would be more comfortable. It'll let us catch up, too. It's been years, Mere. Let me do this for you. _Please._ " His eyes are so desperate. I've never seen him look like he's grasping for something to hold onto before he falls. He reaches for my hand, but I cross my arms and tuck them safely away, ignoring the hurt all over his face as his hand slowly retreats.

"No," I answer firmly.

There's no way I can stay with him. It has been a long time, but it feels as if none has passed at all, which can be dangerous for me. On top of everything else I'm dealing with, I can't torture myself by staying with Noah unless I know whether or not there's a possibility for us to be together again.

"Let me drive you to a hotel, then?"

He wants to help, and that's the easiest way to allow him to. I nod. "Okay."

Noah grins, seemingly happy as if he got his way. He didn't, though, which means he gave up way too easily. Or maybe he was offering just to be nice and is happy I declined. I still don't know anything about his life or how he feels about me now, so it could be possible.

"Tell me about you."

He tilts his head back to lean against the seat. I'm not sure what it means that he's not looking at me as he speaks. "Well, I love playing as a pro. It's been a bit frustrating at times, but I wouldn't trade it. My teammates are great, too. Maybe you can meet one or two of them while you're here."

"I'd like that. What about your family?"

"You already know Ashley had a baby. She's been married to Oliver for about a year now. She met him in college and he proposed the day after they graduated. Mom and Dad are doing well, too. Dad spends his time on the golf course while Mom makes quilts and does whatever it is she does with her friends. Not much has changed with them. I would ask about your family, but I already know. And since you don't want to talk about you, I'm not sure if I should ask how you've been."

He does know how they are because according to my parents, he talks to them almost as often as he talks to his own parents. He's right, too. I don't want him to ask how I've been because if I start talking, I might become a crazy, blubbering mess. "Tell me what you know about my life instead." Then, I'll find out how much he knows about Vance. How much he knows about my disastrous life. I'm not sure what he talks about with my parents or how much information my mom provides about me.

"I know you've hated dealing with your injury, you're worried you'll be forced to leave the game early, and you don't talk about it if you can help it. From what I hear, you also refuse to talk about your engagement and why it ended. Your parents are worried about you, too. That's all I know, Mere. You mom only gives me brief updates. She knows I want to know how you're doing, but she doesn't want to say too much either, out of respect to you." He pauses as a flight attendant checks on us and then focuses his attention on me again. "Am I crazy for hoping you'll talk to me about those things?"

"Yes." I don't want to, not yet. Just like I want to find out if he has a girlfriend, but I'm too scared to ask right now.

Noah nods, not looking surprised at all. He leans his head against the seat again, facing forward. "I've missed you, Meredith." Four quietly spoken words that echo loudly in my heart as if he just shouted them.

I glance away, deciding the cloud-filled sky is a more preferable view than this handsome man next to me. "I've missed you, too," I whisper. More than he could ever imagine.

We don't talk for the remainder of our flight. Once we land, Noah leads the way toward the parking garage and his vehicle since neither of us have any baggage to claim. It's comforting to see his ride is simply a newer model of the SUV he had in college. However, being in his car feels more intimate than being on the plane did. Between that and our silence, I'm starting to get nervous.

"How are you going to get around?" Noah finally speaks. "Are you going to rent a car?"

"Oh, yeah, probably." This is why I plan things. I totally forgot about needing a way to get to wherever I need to go.

"I have an extra vehicle. Do you want to borrow it?"

"No, but thank you for offering."

"It'll cost a fortune to rent a car if you're here for a while," he points out.

"Then I'll buy another car. Money isn't an issue."

"Why don't you want to borrow it? Give me a good reason."

Ignoring his question, I ask, "Which hotel are you taking me to?"

"I'm not. I'm taking you to my apartment. You don't have to stay if you don't want to, but at least take my car. I can't drop you off at a hotel without making sure you can leave the place. Let me do that much for you."

"Fine." There's no point in arguing with him, and I'm curious about his other vehicle and his apartment. This is only his second season here in North Carolina. I wonder if he has a roommate. Or if his roommate is a girlfriend. What does his apartment look like? What does his bedroom look like? The last time I was in his bed was in his dorm in college. A lot has changed since then.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah is pulling into a parking garage on the outskirts of Raleigh. Noah grabs both of our bags, but I'm not sure why if I'm only going to come right back down here to get his car and go to a hotel.

"Do you want to stay long enough for dinner?" he asks as we ride the elevator up to his floor.

"I don't know yet." This entire day has worn me out. A nap sounds perfect right about now.

We come to a stop in front of his door. He sticks a key in, unlocks it, and pushes it open. Noah stands aside for me to walk in first. I abruptly stop when I see a woman in lingerie. She was perched on the couch, but she's now sitting up ramrod straight with her arms crossed over her chest. My heart goes haywire.

"Shit," Noah mutters from behind me.

The woman scowls at me with such hatred. She has to be his girlfriend. No doubt it looks bad that he's bringing me here and I have a bag with me. My heart cracks straight down the middle and falls apart. Noah's taken. Even last-minute plans can't work in my favor.

"What is _she_ doing here, Noah?" she asks, the contempt and accusation dominating her tone. Does she know who I am? Or is she just pissed that he's here with another woman? "I thought you were going home to visit your sister. You didn't say anything about bringing Meredith here." She spits my name.

So, I guess she does know who I am.

I can't stand to be here any longer. That causes me to do the one thing that I seem to consistently do well: walk away. "I'm sorry," I blurt out. I _knew_ coming was a bad idea. "I'm just leaving." I snatch my bag from Noah and shove past him.

"Meredith, wait!"

I don't.

I _can't_.

What was Noah thinking, bringing me here? Why couldn't I have found the courage to ask if he had a girlfriend? I could've used that as the reason why he should drop me off at a hotel. Hell, I wouldn't have left the airport because I would've caught the first flight back!

I press the button for the elevator repeatedly. "Hurry up," I mutter under my breath.

"I didn't know she would be here," Noah says. He takes me by the shoulders and turns me around to face him. "I'm sorry." He sets the keys to his car in my hand, but I try to give them back. No way in hell can I see him again. "Please, Mere. Take them." The elevators open, so I step inside. Unfortunately, Noah follows. "Take my car; it's parked next to the one I was driving today. There's a GPS in the console and it can take you to the nearest hotel. I'm sorry about Erica. She knows where the spare key is and thinks she can come over whenever she wants," he finishes with a grumble.

The doors open with a ding. I step out with his stupid car keys in my hand. Noah doesn't follow, so I turn to face him.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Noah. You might want to explain things to your girlfriend, though."

With that, I turn to leave. This was a huge mistake. I was crazy to think I could step back into Noah's life like nothing had ever happened. Hell, I was probably stupid for thinking I could piece my life together as if time stood still where the person I love hadn't moved on.

Tomorrow, I'll return his car and catch the first flight back home.

Raleigh is the last place I need to be.

***

Frustrated beyond belief, I slam the door behind me when I reach my apartment. "What are you doing here, Erica?"

"I came to surprise my boyfriend," she snaps.

"Just because you know where the spare key is doesn't mean you can show up without fucking telling me!"

"Not even to surprise you?"

"No!"

Erica stands and pokes me hard in the chest. "You're only upset because _Meredith_ is here. What the hell, Noah?"

Yes, that is part of it, but not all of it. There's probably a point in all relationships when this wouldn't be a big deal on its own, but we're not there yet. Hell, I've spent half the summer wondering if I want to break up with her or not. We're not good together. She's amazing in bed, but in all other aspects? We're too busy arguing about everything. She's controlling, and she thinks I'm unable to let someone in because of what happened with Meredith. The hell with that. I'm sick of this shit. In fact, after talking to my sister yesterday, I decided I would break things off with her once I came home.

"I ran into her at the airport. She's here for a while and I offered to let her borrow the car," I explain.

"The car you wouldn't even let me borrow when my car was in the shop for a week?" she shrieks.

I sigh. Erica is a _terrible_ driver. Her car was in the shop because she wrecked it for the third time in four years. So, forgive me for being hesitant. "Look, I'm tired of arguing with you. It's been a long day. Can you go?"

Her jaw drops. "You're unbelievable. We are _not_ done discussing this."

"Yeah, we are."

"Why is Meredith here?" she asks again. Damn, she's so hardheaded.

"I don't fucking know! I honestly have no clue what's going on with her. I'm not getting into this with you right now either. Go the hell home, Erica."

"If I leave, it's over." She levels her gaze at me.

Without any hesitation, I turn and open the door for her. She huffs, snatches her clothes, and hurriedly puts them back on. She's mumbling under her breath, but stops when I speak.

"This is over, Erica. Not because of Meredith, but because we're not good together."

She scoffs. "I don't believe you. You expect me to believe that you breaking up with me all of a sudden doesn't have a thing to do with Meredith?"

"Yes. Think about it, Erica. I've been shitty while I was back in Pittsburgh. I've been distancing myself all summer. We were headed there anyway. This is it; we're over."

Her eyes narrow as she tugs her shirt into place. She huffs again, shakes her head, but pushes past me. Finally, she's gone. I hope it's the end of the relationship because I can't deal with her and us fighting all the time on top of Meredith showing up in my life again.

I lie down on the couch and sigh again. Meredith is a mess. She's not herself. For her to wake up and decide to fly down to Raleigh for no other reason than she wanted to get away without even booking a hotel is the last thing she would do. Ever. It's the kind of thing that would send her into a panic and cause her to break out in hives. And I wish that was my biggest concern.

There was a void in her dark green eyes. Her eyes used to be so bright, happy, and full of life and adventure. I swear on my life, they _sparked_. Something has happened to take that away. I'll be damned if I don't want to find out what. I want to know what she's been through, what happened with her engagement, how she's truly dealing with her injury, and why, out of all the U.S. cities, she chose Raleigh.

As far as I know, I'm the only person she knows here. Could she be here for me? To get back together? I can't allow myself to think that. Mostly because I'm terrified if it's true and equally terrified that's not the reason why. People sometimes speak of the one who got away, how they often think about that person, and how they always regret letting them go.

Meredith is the one who walked away, but part of me has always hoped she'd return. Her leaving me is single-handedly the hardest thing I've had to deal with. I've tried moving on, but none of the relationships ever last. Some say it's because I don't give anyone a true chance. Some being ex-girlfriends, my mom, and my sister. My dad says it's because Meredith is who I'm supposed to be with and no one else is ever going to be able to make me as happy as she did. No one is going to fulfill me like she did.

In the rare moments I decide to be honest with myself, I acknowledge that both sides are correct. I worry about being left, and I have a hard time trusting women while struggling with not wanting anyone but Meredith. It's not like I could chase her regardless of what she told me. Trust me, I've thought about it more times than I can count over the years. How could I interfere with what she told me would make her happiest? How could I intrude with what she said she wanted? After she truly left, when I didn't see or hear from her, when texts went unanswered, it hurt like a son of a bitch. I didn't have the courage to put myself through finding her, pleading my case, and steeling myself for the rejection that was sure to come.

The struggle of wanting her but being unable to have her grew exponentially when I learned of her engagement.

Devastated is an understatement for how I felt when I learned she was engaged to some fellow tennis player. Her mom was the one to confirm the rumors were true. She didn't seem as upset as I was, but she didn't sound thrilled either, which was a telling sign for me. What mother wouldn't be over the moon about her only daughter getting married? It didn't make sense.

None of this makes sense.

I can still feel her hand in mine from when I briefly held it on the flight. It fit perfectly just like it used to. She would always dig her fingertips in a bit as if ensuring her hold on me. She did it again today, probably without realizing it. She has a hold on me now as strongly as she did when we broke up.

It was her who wanted it, of course. She first brought it up during our senior year of high school. Mere would start officially playing tennis full-time while taking a few college classes online. I would be going off to college to play hockey and go pro eventually. She wanted us to sever all ties, be free to see other people, and focus on our careers. She wanted to see the world while playing her game and without worrying about dealing with a boyfriend.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't give her something that would make her happy, even if it was the one thing that would destroy me?

It wasn't until after all communication with her ended that I realized just how much I loved her. How much of an idiot I was to let her go, while realizing it was exactly what I needed to do; for her, not for me. I remember calling my mom, whining like a baby about how I missed her. God, it was brutal. I never knew I could crave and ache for someone like that.

Mom told me to be grateful we ended on good terms because it meant that if there was ever a possibility of us getting together again in the future, it would make things easier. Since then, I've gone about my life like anyone would, but it was always, _always_ , in the back of my mind that she would be mine again one day. One day, somehow, that woman would be _mine,_ and would be until the day I die. My entire life since she left has felt like one long waiting period. Waiting for her to come back, or for the opportunity to arise where I could swoop in and take her back.

The day I first watched Meredith play tennis was the day I began thinking about her in my life. I was all in for the long haul. There was not one doubt in my mind that I had to have her, had to love her, had to get her to fall in love with me. The more time I spent with her, the more I wanted her, the more that feeling I had that day intensified. Even after our breakup and knowing how that affected me, I still couldn't picture my life with anyone but her.

Life has been hell, and it's all because she wasn't in it. I have the career I love. It's the only thing I've ever wanted to do, and I enjoy it. I'm surrounded by good people. My family is great; I couldn't ask for better parents or for a greater sister.

But to be without Meredith? To not have her there? To not have her cheering for me as much as I'm cheering for her? To not be able to talk about my days with her? To not argue with her? To have a life completely void of the one person on this earth I want more than anyone, or anything, else?

Fuck, it's been a struggle. Attempting to move on with someone is extremely difficult when there's always someone else in the back of your mind whom you'd rather have. She's been in my head since that fateful day when I saw her. Hell, she might as well be a part of my DNA. How do you move on from someone who is ingrained into your very being?

You don't.

Not even a little bit.

I nearly gave up hope when I first heard the rumors that she was engaged. Meredith getting married would be the death of the hope I desperately held onto. However, hearing her mother tell me about it kept it alive. Her name is on my chest, for God's sake! I needed her in my life again at some point. Maybe it would be different if I'd fallen for someone else in the meantime, but I haven't. She's the girl for me. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. No one else holds appeal for me like she does.

My phone rings in my pocket with a call from Meredith's mother, Hope.

"Hello," I answer.

"Noah, hey. How are you?"

"Good. How are you?"

She takes a deep breath. "Worried. I was calling to tell you that my daughter has apparently lost her mind. I tried to reach you earlier, but got your voicemail. Meredith is in Raleigh. She texted me this morning, saying she needed to get away, and that she was flying down there. She's been miserable since she's been home, Noah. Absolutely miserable. I don't know why she's there or if she'll reach out to you, but I wanted to tell you in case you wanted to get in contact with her. Just in case she needs help, at least."

"I actually caught the same flight home that she was on. I came to visit Ashley."

"Oh, of course. I need to call to congratulate her on that beautiful baby." She briefly pauses. "So, you talked to her? How is she? Is she staying with you? Did she say more about why she was there? I'm worried about her, Noah."

"Me too. She only told me the same thing she told you. She wouldn't give me many details when we talked. She's at a hotel right now. I offered her the spare bedroom here, but she wouldn't stay. I let her borrow my car, though. I'm going to try to talk her into having dinner with me."

"Good. She hasn't texted me since she left for the airport. Did you get her number? She changed it once her engagement was called off."

"No, I didn't. Hold on a sec."

She waits as I pull up my contacts and then she gives me Mere's new number.

"Keep an eye on her, Noah, please. I don't know what's happened because she won't talk about it. She used to tell me everything. Anyway, I'm hoping she went to Raleigh to see you. Maybe she'll let you in since she's shutting everyone else out."

I won't tell her that she's shut me out so far. "I'll try, Hope. I'll do my best."

She's quiet for a moment. "You still love her, don't you?"

"Yeah." I love the girl I knew, at least. I loved her so powerfully that I've been hoping she'd be mine again one day. However, I'm not sure if that girl is still there or if I'll fall in love with the ways she's changed since the last time I was with her.

"Good, because I think she needs someone to love her, truly love her, not like that ass she was engaged to. Between you and me, I never did like him, but that's beside the point. Call Meredith and have dinner with her."

"I will," I promise.

Not that it does any good. She doesn't answer when I call. Knowing she hates voicemails, I decide not to leave one, but to text her the reason I'm calling.

**Me:** _Just wanted to ask you to dinner. Please say you will._

When she doesn't respond right away, I grab my duffel bag from where I dropped it by the door when I left to run after Meredith. I unpack and start a load of laundry. I have a few days until training camp starts, but I'll be hitting the rink for some unofficial ice time. I'm so ready for the start of the season, which is looking promising.

The Carolina Rebels last won the Cup thirteen years ago. Last year was the first since then that the team made the playoffs. The timing couldn't have been any better. It seemed like the Rebels were losing fans by the handful, only the extremely faithful and loyal sticking around. There would be numerous empty seats every game. Sometimes, when the crowd was large, it was because we were playing a popular team. Those games would bring out more of our fans, but also a _lot_ of the opposing team's fans.

Us not only making the playoffs, but fighting hard in the first round and going seven games, has to pay off with attendance this season. If not, oh well. That's not really my concern, but having our own fans support us would be nice. It's only my second season with the Rebels, and I'm definitely looking forward to it. I wasn't so sure I'd truly be happy here when I learned of my trade. It's worked out well so far, though.

Hockey aside, I definitely wouldn't mind finishing out my career here. I love North Carolina, humidity and all. The weather is great. Hot in the summer and cold in the winter, although the cold is different here than back home in Pittsburgh. My first year as a Rebel has been great in many ways, so if we can become a contending team again, that would be even better, would definitely make me want to stay here even more.

I've finished all my laundry, including putting it away, when my phone dings with a text.

**Meredith:** _Sorry, I took a nap and then I had to call my mom. I'm starved. Dinner better be good._

**Me:** _It will be because I'm cooking. Do you want me to come get you or do you want to drive back here?_

**Meredith:** _I'll drive. Give me enough time to shower first._

I get started on our spaghetti dinner. I'm kind of surprised she's accepting my offer, and I wonder if her talking to her mom had anything to do with it. Either way, I don't care. She's coming and that's enough to make me happy. One big "what if" keeps circulating in my mind as I cook.

What if she does want me back?

We obviously can't pick up where we left off, but could we salvage what we had to start another relationship? Do I want that?

Who am I kidding? That's a stupid question.

This is Meredith Quick we're talking about.

Her name is forever inked on my chest.

My feelings for her haven't diminished in the least.

I need to stop thinking about it before I get my hopes up for nothing. The last thing I want is for the one woman I've wanted to be in my life to reject me once again.

I'm mixing the noodles in with the sauce when there's a knock on the door.

"Come in," I call. "Can you grab the garlic bread from the oven?"

"Sure." I hear her set her things down before she grabs a nearby potholder and pulls out the pan. "Smells good," she comments. "I hope it tastes as good."

"It will."

We're quiet as we fix our plates and drinks and then sit down at my table. Mere wastes no time tackling her first topic of choice.

"So, Mom called you."

"Yeah," I nod. "She was worried about you and she wants me to keep an eye on you, be here if you need me."

She watches me for a moment before picking up her glass. "That's it?"

"Pretty much."

That seems to be an acceptable answer. "What happened with your girlfriend?"

"Ex-girlfriend," I correct. "She left after you did."

"Ex?" she questions. Is that hope in her tone? "Why? How long were you together?"

"Only since May. We argue more than anything else. I was planning to do it once I returned. Why are you here, Meredith?" That's a way better topic than Erica.

She feigns innocence as she answers with a dubious look, "You invited me for dinner, Noah." I open my mouth, but she cuts me off. "Can't we just have dinner first? Talk about hockey or something. Or we don't have to talk at all."

I can give her a few more minutes of peace. "What about hockey?"

"Tell me about your career. I...I didn't follow you, but Mom would tell me when you were traded to a new team."

Not going to lie, that stings. I'm not prepared at all to hear that when she left, she wasn't curious enough to learn more about my life than that. Mostly because I definitely followed her career. Maybe a bit obsessively. I kept up with her matches and got those alerts to have any articles mentioning her sent to my email. I always knew what was going on, and she only knew when I moved? The hurt must show on my face.

"It was too difficult, Noah," she explains quietly. "If I was to truly leave you behind, then I couldn't allow that indulgence. I'm hoping to finally see you play a game this season, though." Her tone turns hopeful. "How is it different than when I last saw you play?"

"It's more physical and the arena is bigger. I could probably give you a tour some time."

"I'd like that. I'll help."

She stands to help me put the leftovers away and to place the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Once done, I lead her into the living room. Dinner is over and it's time for her to talk. We sit next to each other on the couch. Meredith pulls one leg up as she turns to face me.

"Talk to me, Mere," I urge.

She bursts into tears, a sob ripping from her throat. Without thinking about it, I pull her into my lap and wrap my arms around her. I barely have time to take a second to appreciate the fact that she's in my arms before she starts blubbering her story with her head on my shoulder.

"Everything's wrong, Noah. I had a plan and it all blew up in my face. What am I supposed to do now? I can't play tennis and might never get back to that point. I didn't finish college. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know how to, or if I can, recover from this. What if I have to retire? Even my backup plan has gone to shit. I can't coach if I can't even play or demonstrate. I can't get a good job if I don't have a degree, not that I would even know what I want to do. I was supposed to play until I was ready to retire and then start coaching or something. I was supposed to get married and," she chokes as she continues, "have kids."

She lifts her head to look at me. "I was even thinking about reaching out to you, but then I met Vance and..." Meredith shakes her head. "When I look back and try to figure out how I messed up, how my plans got so screwed up, I keep thinking it's because I walked away from you. I don't regret that so much as I should've come back to you sooner. Then none of this might've happened.

"God, I really am pathetic," she says, wiping her tears away harshly as she tries to move from my lap. I hold her firmly in place; no way in hell is she leaving me. "I'm crying and freaking out because nothing worked out the way I wanted. I'm practically worthless now. If my shoulder doesn't recover, then I don't have a job or a plan for the future, and I'm so lost it hurts. I _hurt_. I hurt in so many unimaginable ways, Noah. Am I crazy for thinking you can make me better?" she finishes, holding her breath as she stares at me and waits for an answer.

I cup her face. It's unbelievable to think she's here with me, in my lap, in my arms. "No," I reply softly. "You're not crazy."

***

"You're not crazy, worthless, or pathetic," he tells me firmly, but in the back of my mind, I hear Vance convincing me that I am. "You can get through this, Mere. You just need a new plan, or to go with the flow for once." When my jaw drops at the absurdity of that idea, he laughs. "There's the Meredith I know."

I slap his shoulder. "This is serious, Noah. What am I going to do?" My voice cracks with my question. "I'm going through all of this PT, but for what? There's still a long road ahead of me, and who's to say I'll be able to play at the end of it?"

"Why don't you wait and find out? It sounds like you're already giving up."

I am, but with good reason. "My shoulder doesn't feel right. I doubt I'll be able to play again," I whisper, hating the words and hating that I'm even admitting it's a legit option. "The strength isn't there anymore. Hell, I'm too scared to even try and find out if everyone is right about my career being over." And I mean _everyone_ has told me it's over.

"That day is coming for all athletes, Meredith," Noah gently tells me, like that might make me feel better. It doesn't. Not at all.

"It's too soon," I whisper.

He doesn't understand. He should! It would be a long road if he were to get injured and then have to slowly work his way back. Everyone knows that the longer you don't play, the harder it is to get back to where you were. The difference for me is that I'm so discouraged with how things have turned out so far that I don't know if it's even possible for me to get back to that point. I'm nowhere near where I should be with my recovery. Not to mention that I'm losing my mind in the meantime. To distract myself, I play with the hair at the base of his neck.

"Why didn't you finish college?" he asks.

"I was busy and it started to feel like a hassle, so I took a break. I never went back to finish."

He nods like he understands. "I ended up taking classes over the summer to finish my degree. You can go back to school."

"Why? To get a degree to coach a game I might not be able to play? I probably don't even have that much in me."

"Hey." He uses his thumbs to wipe away two fresh tears. "You don't have to figure it out right this second. It's too late to start this semester anyway. Think about what you might want to go back for, if you want to at all. Get a job in the meantime if you want." Noah lets his hands slide down my neck, over my shoulders, and down to my hands, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "Think you can do one of those?"

"Yeah." He's right. I don't have to know right this very second, but I've been trying to figure it out since I came home and I'm still no closer to an answer. I need to be prepared for the biggest "what if" I've ever faced in my life.

"Now," he takes a deep breath, "what happened with your engagement?"

I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing we could skip over that entirely. Where's Noah's skill for changing the subject when I need it? His brown eyes are waiting patiently when I reopen mine. "He left me," I say simply.

"Why?"

"Why do you need to know? That's not my issue," I semi-lie. Vance is partly the issue, but not in the way Noah probably thinks. I got over my broken engagement months ago. It was what happened during and soon after the engagement that I'm struggling with.

"Really? Then you've talked about what happened with your mother?" My silence is answer enough for him. "Tell me."

"You want to know?" I ask, unable to keep skepticism from my voice. I certainly don't care to hear about any relationships he's been in since I've been gone. I might've walked away, but I can't stand the thought of him being with anyone else.

"No, I don't, because it kills me to think the girl I've always wanted was so close to never being mine again. I want you to talk about it, though, so I don't mind listening."

My forefinger begins to trail over his shirt where the letters of my name are hidden. I wish I could see it again. It's not just some black script; it's my handwriting. He had me write my name for the tattoo artist because he didn't want a random, generic font. I don't want to tell Noah the full truth, not yet at least, which means I need to figure out what I'm going to say.

"Mere?"

I lift my eyes to his. "He loved me, but he wanted a wife he didn't need to take care of, a wife who was independent and self-sustaining. It seemed clear to him that I needed to retire, which left me with no immediate new plan, so I was leaning on him too much. The ugly side of him started to show and our relationship fell apart. He left me soon after." There. That's mostly the truth.

Noah analyzes me for a moment. "The ugly side of him? Did he hit you?" Already, there's an underlying current of rage waiting to be unleashed if I say yes.

"No," I rush to say. "No, that's not what I meant."

"Then explain that part to me."

"He was mean sometimes, that's all." Never had he spoken so viciously to me as he had in the final month of our relationship. It was as if all the stress I was feeling transferred to him and turned him into a sharp-tongued bully.

Noah's eyes widen slightly. "Those words you said earlier, pathetic and worthless, he said that to you, didn't he?" I shrug and Noah curses under his breath. He takes a ragged breath, cupping my face again. "Why are you here, Mere?" When I pull my brows in, he adds, "I want you to say it. I want you to tell me the _exact_ reason."

Before I can realize that I am in fact crazy, I whisper, "Because I want to be with you again."

I barely have time to inhale before his lips are on mine. Time has changed us in many ways, but none so apparent as with his kiss. Before, I was kissing a teenager. Now? With the hard pressure of his lips, the expert force of his tongue as he pushes open my mouth, and how he steals my breath as his own, I'm definitely kissing a man. One who has been deprived of my air for far too long.

Noah groans when I nip his lower lip, sliding his tongue back into my mouth. Everything seems to happen quickly when I moan as his hands fall to grasp my breasts. He wraps his arms around my waist and moves us to lie on the couch. With one foot braced on the floor, his knee between my legs, he grabs the back of his collar and pulls off his shirt.

This body was not nearly as fit then as it is now. Those abs probably go on for days. I lean forward to press a kiss to my name. My fingernails lightly scratch down his chest and then I fumble with the button of his jeans.

Noah grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. He quickly unhooks my bra from the front and leans down; his mouth is giving plenty of attention to one of my breasts. What was I doing again? Oh, yeah. Trying to unbutton his shorts. It becomes like a race to shimmy out of our shorts. A condom seems to appear from thin air and then he's pushing into me with a moan from me and an under-his-breath curse from him.

One thing is for certain.

Noah in the flesh is better than any memory or fantasy.

We're lying on his couch, naked and satisfied, with only the blanket from the back of the couch covering us. Noah is running his fingers through my hair and placing a kiss on the top of my head every few seconds. His chest lurches once with his chuckle.

"You know, of all the times I've pictured where I'd fuck you if you were to come back to me, none of them were on this couch."

I laugh. "Then where?"

"Against the door or in my bed. My bed is so much better than the one I had at my parents' house or in my dorm at college."

"There will be time for that later, promise. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm not going to wake up in the morning disappointed because it was all a dream?"

"Nope." I kiss his tattoo.

"You love it, don't you? Even with how much you tried to get me to change my mind, even with ratting me out to my mom so she could try too, you love that your name is permanently inked on my chest, don't you?"

"Yes," I confess, though I'm sure he already knew it.

"That makes all the shit I've had to hear about it worth it."

I lift my head, pulling my arms up so I can rest my chin on my forearms. "What do you mean?"

"I can't even count how many times a teammate has ragged on me because I have a tattoo for a girl who isn't even mine anymore. Pictures were taken of me without a shirt during interviews and there it was, plain as day. Everyone who looked knew there was a tattoo of a girl's name on my chest and I wasn't dating her anymore. Not to mention the reactions of girls I was dating when they saw it, if they didn't know about it already."

"Would you have ever gotten it removed?" I ask, remembering he said one girl pressed him about it. Was it Erica?

"If I ever found someone to love as much as I love you, if she asked, then probably. I wasn't removing it unless that happened, and it hasn't."

"I'm glad." I turn to rest my cheek against his chest once more, my arms going down by our sides. Us, it's been too easy so far. "How can it be like this?" I ask him.

"Like what?"

"So easy and seamless."

"Let's enjoy it, Mere. I'm sure we'll hit a bump soon enough."

Despite his words, I laugh. "Because we're perfect for one another would've been a better answer."

"That's true too."

We're quiet for so long that I've nearly fallen asleep. I'm warm, relaxed, and tired. Noah, on the other hand, has been thinking.

"We should go to the hotel and get your things; you can stay here. How long do you think you'll stay in Raleigh?"

"I don't know." Noah's muscles tense beneath me, so I continue, "I don't know because I don't know what I'll be doing with my life now. I guess it depends on what happens with my shoulder. I have plenty of time to waste, though. But if we're together, then I'll be here as long as you're here." One would think my biggest obstacle is my shoulder. It's more likely that it's actually the fact that I don't know how to let go of my career. I'm still blindly holding onto hope that I can get back to playing form.

He relaxes with my answer. "You'll move in with me?"

I sit up to straddle him, wrapping the blanket around me to cover me up. "Noah—"

He covers my mouth with his hand before I can protest. Before I can tell him that no, I won't, because we literally just got back together, because he broke up with his last girlfriend today, and because it's simply too soon, regardless of our history.

"Don't even say no. I've been waiting forever for this moment, Meredith. I don't want to waste a minute of us making up for lost time because you're living in an apartment somewhere else. You here with me is inevitable now that I have you back. Stay with me. The season will start soon and it'll be like having your own apartment when I'm on the road. Let that be enough. If you can give me a really good reason I can't argue you on, then I won't fight it. If you don't have a reason, then give me a kiss and get dressed, so we can get your things."

Slowly, as if I'm going to spit out a reason, he removes his hand. My plan was to come here and try to get back together with Noah. I'm here; we're together. Do I need a separate apartment? Part of me says yes while the other part of me wants to agree with Noah.

I lean down to kiss him as my answer.

The disappointment of waking up in Noah's bed alone wouldn't be nearly as bad if I wasn't in his apartment alone. He left a note on his pillow saying that he was gone for his morning workout and to get some time on the ice. I guess that's another change, though it's definitely one I can appreciate and admire. He's more dedicated to hockey than before. Otherwise, he would still be in bed with me.

I shower and then make my way to the kitchen. It feels odd to be here, searching for food as if I live here, when it's only been twenty-four hours since I ran into Noah. But for the first time in six months, life doesn't look quite so dreary. My phone rings with a call from my mother and I answer. She's been calling me daily since I moved back to Pittsburgh where I finally lived in the house I owned there.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hey. How's it going so far?"

"Good. I think I'm going to stay with Noah for a while."

"I think that's the best decision you've made in a long time, Meredith," she says.

I nod and then realize she can't see me. "Me too." I decide on cereal, so I turn on the speaker and set my phone down to fix myself a bowl.

"However, I'm concerned."

"About what?"

"You're going to have to find a new physical therapist and get your records transferred. If you're serious about getting back into the pros, you need to take PT more seriously."

The thing is, Mom doesn't know that I _have_ been taking it seriously. It's easier to tell her I've been flaky than to admit the progress is way slower than normal. I'm in Denialville with a capital D, population of one.

"I will, but Mom, what if I do retire? What kind of career do you think I should do next? I just want to be prepared."

Her silence is not encouraging. "I'm not sure off the top of my head. You've never shown interest in much other than tennis. Do you want to report the game or be involved in some other way?"

And have to see Vance at some point? "No," I answer aloud.

"Why don't you search some majors on university websites and see if something stands out? Or take a few of those specialty classes at a community college and see if you'd want to explore that further? They have photography, cake decorating, things like that. I know you're eager to decide on something so you can reconfigure your backup plan, but you don't need to know right now. You have time. You haven't even retired yet."

"I know," I mumble, causing Mom to laugh.

"Try that. If it doesn't work, we'll come up with a new plan. For now, you enjoy your time there with Noah."

"I will. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Call me if you need me."

"I will," I promise.

If I'm going to be staying here for the foreseeable future, I'm going to need more clothes than what I packed in my carry-on. The original plan was to fly back, pack my car, and drive back here with my things if I were to stay for longer than a week. I guess I could still do that, but if Noah is going to let me drive his car while I'm here, Mom could ship me what I need. I'll have to ask him if he'd be okay with that or not.

After finishing my cereal, I rinse the dish and place it in the dishwasher. The two pots and one pan Noah used last night while cooking have been washed. He must've done it this morning. Unfortunately, I couldn't leave my restlessness at home. What am I supposed to do now? I'm used to constantly doing something. Without a job, I do more nothing than something. It drives me crazy. I sit down on the couch, feeling out of place and at a loss as to what to do. I guess I should check out the local physical therapists.

I hear the lock turn in the door and shift so I can see who's about to walk through. For a moment, I fear it could be Erica, but thankfully, it's only Noah. He grins as he closes the distance between us, forcing me to lie down as he hovers over me.

"You're here," he says.

I laugh. "Where else would I be?"

"On a plane back to Pittsburgh. Glad you're not there." Before I can remind him that I said I wouldn't leave, he leans down to kiss me. His hair falls forward, tickling my face, especially since it's wet. He must've showered before coming home. "Want to go someplace with me this afternoon?"

"Depends," I lie. I'd go anywhere with him, no questions asked. "Where are we going?"

He moves his head side to side so his hair brushes my face. "To get my hair cut."

"What? Why?" Longish hair on Noah definitely works.

"I always cut it right before training camp."

"But I haven't had a chance to fully enjoy it yet." To make my point, I lean up to kiss him, tugging on a handful of hair.

Noah laughs. "Good thing we have time before my appointment." He stands and pulls me with him, leading me to the door. "Time for me to make my other fantasy come true," he explains as he pulls my shirt up and over my head, tossing it behind him.

***

"Let me cut your hair."

I nearly get whiplash from glancing at Meredith so fast. She's lost her mind. "You can cut hair?"

She shrugs. "Let's find out," she says with a mischievous grin. "Maybe I want to become a hairdresser. This will help me decide." That's a load of shit. "Please, Noah?"

Have I gone crazy already? Because I find myself nodding, relenting, and pulling out my phone to cancel my appointment. Meredith squeals with delight. She pulls a chair from the table to the middle of the kitchen floor since it's the one of the few rooms without carpet. She grabs a towel while I grab the kit my mom convinced me I'd need, but have never used.

No matter how this turns out, the grin on Meredith's face right now already makes it worth it. She pats the seat and I sit with a deep breath. She stands in front of me, snipping at the air with an evil grin on her face. I grab her wrist and pull her down to me, so we're face to face.

"People love me for my hair, Mere. Don't butcher it."

She kisses me softly. "Have more faith in me, Noah."

"I would if you knew what you were doing," I mumble as she begins to cut. "You don't even know what I want!"

"Yes, I do. I've seen your picture when it's short. Close your eyes and trust me."

My eyes close on their own accord. I can feel her around me as she moves. Her legs bump into my elbows every so often and I just want to grab them and pull her onto my lap. When her fingers start diving into my hair, I nearly yank her into my lap right then. The only thing that stops me is the fact that she's holding scissors.

When her knees hit mine, my eyes pop open to get an eyeful of cleavage. I can't resist grabbing her hips, causing her to glance down at me with a smirk.

"Please tell me you're finished."

I tug her down so she straddles my lap. "Almost." Her gaze lifts to my hair and she runs her hand through it, scrutinizing her work. "I need to stand," she tells me.

"No." I pull her closer to me.

"You told me not to butcher it. How can I make sure I don't do that if I can't see?"

"Find another way, because the next time you stand, it's so I can drag you to my bed."

"When did you become so demanding?" she teases, cutting whatever she needed to without leaving my lap.

"I'm not demanding," I retort, unable to look anywhere but her breasts. "I'm giving you a heads-up, like a warning. You should thank me for it, really."

She snaps her fingers and I look up in time to see her roll her eyes. "I'm finished." She sets the scissors aside, puts both hands in my hair, and grips a handful. She pulls to tilt my head back. A grin graces her face. "I left it a little longer on the top so I'd have something to pull."

"Want to really test it out?"

"Well, if you insist," she smiles.

"Okay," Meredith says as she runs her fingers through my hair for the millionth time since we left my apartment. I was impressed when I saw how well she did. "I think I really like this better." She gently tugs on a chunk from the top of my head. "How can you be hotter?"

I laugh. "It's a natural ability," I reply, causing her to giggle. "God, I've missed you," I blurt out. It feels as if it's been centuries since I last heard her laugh, and to hear it as often as I have in the past day is blowing my mind. Not to mention that I've been able to talk to her, to kiss her, to make love to her. Thankful doesn't begin to cover how I feel about having her back.

"I've missed you too," she tells me quietly as I park the SUV. "I wish I'd never met Vance, then I could've come back sooner and," she hesitates as if choosing her words carefully, "avoided some of the heartache."

"How about we stop thinking of the should'ves and could'ves and focus on you being here with me now?" She nods, so I add, "Let's go meet Marc."

We get out of the car and meet around the front. I take her hand and she makes me laugh when she says, "You know, I thought you would've kept me in your apartment for more making up instead of taking me to meet one of your teammates."

I groan. "Don't make me change my mind." There was a serious debate going on in my head while my hair was being cut before I settled on her meeting my closest friend on the team. I think that's one of the toughest things about being traded. You have to learn a new system, adjust to a new coaching staff, and get to know a new round of players. Marc, however, was traded with me from my previous team.

We walk into the restaurant, and I tell the hostess who we're meeting. She leads us to a booth. Marc slides out to stand and greet Meredith. All I told him was that he was meeting my new girlfriend.

"Marc, this is Meredith. Mere, this is Marc."

She shakes his hand, but all he's doing is staring at her in wonder. "It's nice to meet you."

"Holy shit." Marc glances at me. "Meredith as in _the_ Meredith?" he asks, pointing to where her tattoo is on my chest.

"Yes," we both confirm.

"Wow." We sit down in the booth and Marc says, "How the hell did this happen?"

We're unable to respond right away because a waitress comes to take our drink orders. When she walks away, Marc keeps talking instead of giving us time to reply to his first question.

"I'm stunned, really. I won't lie; I was starting to think you were a figment of Rams's imagination." Meredith raises an eyebrow at me at the mention of my nickname. "He told me the story once, and the way he described you, I was about ready to come find you myself. I would've if he'd have told me how hot you are." To my dismay, Meredith laughs. "How long are you here for? When are your hot tennis friends coming to visit, so you can set me up?"

At the mention of tennis, Mere loses her smile. Fucking Marc. I kick him under the table and he glares at me.

"I'm here for the foreseeable future. You're on your own if you need a girlfriend," she answers. "How long have you known Noah?"

"Too damn long," he laughs. "We've been playing together for, what, four years now? We were both traded to Carolina as a package deal. He took me under his wing from day one and we've been friends ever since."

"Only because he doesn't know how to make new friends," I say. "He was shy when I first met him."

"So, you probably have some good stories to tell about Noah then?" Meredith asks hopefully.

"Absolutely," he grins.

After we order, Marc launches into the story of our friendship pretty much. He even manages to tell her everything in chronological order. I don't focus on what he's saying, though. I'm too busy having the utmost surreal feeling. We're a couple. She's laughing, enjoying herself, and is relaxed. It's so surreal that I'm waiting for something to go wrong, for something to ruin this amazing moment, to destroy this feeling.

Nothing happens.

"Okay, you've talked enough, Marc. Save some of it for another time, yeah?" I interrupt. I'm ready to go home and take Mere to bed. "We still have catching up to do ourselves."

"I'm sure you do," he smirks.

"It was really nice to meet you," Meredith says, ignoring his comment.

"You too. It's good to know you exist."

I leave some cash on the table, not wanting to wait for the waitress. "Make sure the waitress gets the money. This isn't a tip for your company," I tell him, making him laugh.

With that, Meredith and I make our way back to my apartment. She seems to like Marc, which is good. She'll be seeing him quite a bit between him being my teammate and best friend. Something seems different with her, which makes me worry.

As we ride the elevator up to my floor, I ask, "You doing okay with everything?"

She looks up at me with a small smile. "As much as I can be while not knowing what my future looks like. I want to be able to go with the flow and forget about ever making a plan again, but I need it, Noah. I need a sense of direction, and right now, I don't really have one."

"We'll figure it out," I promise. She's always had a plan, goals, and structure in her life. It's how she became such a great tennis player. Meredith without a plan is like a fish out of the water. She needs it to function. I tug her closer to me and lean down to kiss her slowly, a privilege I've missed having. It's a blessing to hear the small sigh she releases at the touch of our lips and to feel her relaxing into me.

The elevators ding open and we hear, "You've got to be kidding me."

I wince at the sound of Erica's voice as I feel Meredith tense next to me. Sure enough, she's standing outside of my apartment door. I made sure to move the spare key inside this morning before I left. It'll be going to Meredith anyway. In a quiet voice, I tell Meredith as I hand her my key, "Go inside and wait for me." To Erica, I say, "We can talk while I walk you to your car."

She glares, but surprisingly follows me. "We broke up yesterday and you're already kissing her? You don't waste any time, do you, Noah? I should've run the moment I saw her name on your chest."

"Why are you here?" I ask, ready to get to the point.

"I didn't think you meant what you said yesterday. Now I can see what an ass you are and that I was wrong. I guess I should've known you'd leave the moment she came back into your life." She shakes her head as the doors open to the parking garage. "I hope she doesn't break your heart again, Noah. Maybe she's only here because she's currently out of options. Not only is she facing losing her career, but she would've married another man if he hadn't left her. Remember that."

I wish I could say that what Erica says doesn't get to me, but it does. The fact that Meredith was engaged has bothered me from the moment I learned of it. I don't want to question why she's here as much as I want to question why she would've married him.

"Everything okay?" Meredith asks from where she sits on the couch when I walk into my apartment.

"Mostly." I take a seat next to her. "Can I ask you something?" I definitely won't be able to stop thinking about it now. She nods. "You said that you were planning to come back to me before you met him, and you're here now because you want to be with me. Why were you going to marry him? Why did you say yes if you still had feelings for me?"

The fact that she has to think about it worries me to start with. "Well, I guess because I thought you would've moved on by now. I didn't think I would have a chance, and there was this guy in front of me who was mostly good to me and he wanted to marry me. This is going to sound terrible, but I felt like he was my last option, and that if I left another man who wanted me, I wouldn't be able to find another one to spend my life with."

"So you were going to settle without even checking to see if I would want to get back together?"

She nods. "That's one way to put it. I mean, I loved him, but it wasn't like how it is with us. I thought it would be enough, but it obviously wasn't." She pauses and then adds, "Are we done talking about it now?"

"Yeah. Let's come up with a plan for you. What are you thinking?"

Meredith angles toward me, throwing her legs onto my lap. "Well, I'll need to find someone to continue my PT with. Maybe I'll look up some ideas in case I go back to school."

"Well, there's your plan. You'll start searching for what you want to go back to school for, live with me, and be with me while going to PT; I can recommend someone. We can reevaluate when we need to."

"But what am I going to do in the meantime? I can't spend all day here in your apartment; I'll go crazy."

"You're going to have to figure something out or deal with it, Mere. You can't start school when you don't know what you want to do and with the semester having already started. Unless you want to get a job somewhere, then you're free to do whatever you want."

She frowns at my answer. Most people would enjoy having so much free time. She's not happy one bit. "Okay. I'll figure something out, then. I'm not sure I could handle a normal job, not to mention I technically only have a high school diploma. There won't be a lot of options, none that I'll want to do at least. Oh, do you want me to use your car or my own? I'm going to need more of my things, so I didn't know if I needed to go home and pack myself, or get Mom to ship them to me."

"Get your mom to do it." I pull her into my lap. "I don't want you going anywhere just yet."

***

Something is different this morning. My eyes open, a smile immediately lifting my lips. "You're here," I say with a bit too much awe in my voice. The past few days, I've woken alone. Noah has left by the time I get out of bed. He always leaves a note and nothing more, except when he left the spare key to his apartment for me. I didn't realize how much I wanted him here at least once until right now.

"Not for long, unfortunately. I have to go in for physicals and boring medical tests. Training camp officially starts today. What are you going to do without me?" The way he asks isn't sarcastic, but more worried. "You haven't left the apartment unless I'm with you." Noah cups my cheek, his eyes crinkling with concern.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Explore. Go shopping. Learn your way around the city. Contact that physical therapist I told you about."

None of that sounds like something I want to do, especially by myself, except the last one. "I was planning to look up majors today and call that woman, so maybe after that I will go explore or something." Unlikely, but telling him will ease his mind.

"I'm worried about you, Mere. You're doing the same thing here as you did at home, except you're with me."

I narrow my eyes at him. The only way he would know what I did at home is if he's been talking to my mother again. "So, what? Are you and my mom having secret conversations about me? Are you planning some sort of intervention?" I roll away from him with the intention of getting out of bed.

He grabs my elbow. "Do not walk away from me." There isn't any anger in his voice, but he's stern and there's something else in his tone that I can't put my finger on. I sit with my legs folded in front of me and cross my arms over my chest, causing him to release his hold. Noah sits up, hooks a finger under my chin, and forces me to look at him. He glances behind him and then says, "We're worried about you, that's all. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy," I argue, but there's not an inch of fight in me, so I end up saying it quietly. I'm happy to be with Noah.

"Not completely. I have to get ready. I'll probably be gone for most of the day. Please get out of the apartment and get an appointment scheduled, okay?"

"Fine," I mumble.

Noah smiles. "Thank you." He leans over to kiss me. At least that hasn't changed. He would always give me the most gentle, tender, loving kiss after an argument. I knew things would be okay with that kiss. "I love you."

My eyes widen. That's the first time he's said it since I've been here. He's said how much he's missed me, but not that he loves me. It's such a relief to hear him say it. I didn't know if I'd ever hear those three little words from him again. "I love you too."

He grins, kisses me quickly, and then gets out of bed. I wonder if I should go back to sleep for a while. When I glance at his clock, I see it's 5:45 in the morning. Why the hell am I up this early?

"What time do you have to be there?" I ask as he grabs his clothes.

"Have to report in by seven. Go back to sleep for a while."

Now that is an order I can follow.

None of the majors sound particularly interesting when I look up programs. Now what am I supposed to do? Be careful about spending my money, so I can try to live off of it for the rest of my life? I need to _do_ something other than go to my PT appointments. Everyone should be proud of me because I'm all set for my first appointment tomorrow. Whoopty freaking doo.

With a sigh, I pull up my browser once more and truly think about the programs. I could get a business degree. It's broad enough that I could be flexible with whatever I end up doing from this point on. I could do a concentration in marketing or something. Although, the thought of attending college makes me a little queasy. I've never actually been on a campus as a student before. I went from high school to playing pro and taking online classes.

I continue scrolling. My heart aches a little as I see what used to be my major. I was going to get a degree so I could coach once I retired. But now, with my shoulder, I might not be able to rally or demonstrate without agitating it. Who would hire a coach who couldn't play?

Do I want to be involved in tennis somehow? I've been thinking about it on the professional level, and that's what's made me hesitant. If I can play, that's absolutely where I want to be, but if I can't, I could do something on a lower level. There wouldn't be the possibility of running into old friends or Vance that way.

My love for the game and how much I miss it cause me to do a quick search for job openings in the area. My heart skips a beat when I see that a local high school is in need of an assistant coach for their year-round team. I may not have the educational background, but I definitely have the tennis experience. If they're desperate enough, they could hire me. Should I apply even though I may quit the second I'm given the all-clear to train like usual, so I can return to the pro circuit? If that doesn't happen, though, then my backup plan will already be in place.

On impulse, I fill out the application online. What can it hurt?

Two hours later, I'm getting ready to leave the apartment to explore like I promised when my phone rings. It's a local number based on the area code. Hesitantly, I answer.

"Hello?"

"Meredith Quick?"

"This is she," I confirm.

"Hi. My name is Gail Nicholson with Brady High School. I saw your application and I would like to schedule an interview with you. When's the soonest you're available?"

Oh. Wow. Okay. Gathering my wits, I say, "When would you like me to come in?"

"Could you be here in an hour and a half?"

"Absolutely."

"Great! Just stop by the school and ask for me in the front office."

"Okay, thank you."

I hang up in disbelief. It can't be that easy, can it? Shit. What am I supposed to wear to a job interview? How can I be twenty-six and feel so clueless? I grab my things and hurry down to the parking garage. I definitely don't have anything worthy, and I'll have just enough time to make a quick shopping trip.

By the time I make it to the school, my hands are trembling with nerves. I'm not going to get this job. I don't even know if I want it! Before my injury, I would've been confident that I would be hired. I'd have the skills and no one could deny my ability. But being unable to play has shaken my confidence.

Worthless.

Pathetic.

Useless.

I cringe at remembering a few choice words from Vance. Now isn't the best time to have that running through my head. Nonetheless, I force myself to walk in to the school and ask for Gail, adding that I'm here for an interview. The receptionist asks me to take a seat. I run my fingers through my long brown hair, hoping I didn't frizz it up too much when I changed.

A woman walks through the door and stops short when she sees me, her jaw dropping to the floor.

"Wow, this is such an honor," she says as she approaches me. I stand and she shakes my hand. "I wondered if it was _the_ Meredith Quick or just someone with the same name. I didn't realize you lived in Raleigh."

"I recently moved here," I explain.

She nods and faces the receptionist as she waves for me to follow her. "We're going to take the conference room," she tells her. To me, she says, "We've had the hardest time trying to fill my position, so we try to jump on each potential employee when we see the application."

"Your position?" I question, taking the seat she directs me to.

"Yes, I'll be moving shortly to a new position in South Carolina. I'll interview you and if I think you're a good fit, you'll meet the head coach for her approval. I still can't believe it's you, though. I've followed your entire career. You're an inspiration for many of our young girls, especially with how you became sort of an instant phenomenon within the tennis realm. I'm honestly surprised you applied for this. May I ask why?"

Usually, meeting a fan is no big deal, but in this situation, I'm a little uneasy. "Well, I'm looking for a job while my shoulder heals." God, that has to be the lamest answer. "I mean, I won't be able to return to the game any time soon. This will hopefully put me closer to it again. There wasn't a place for it with the application, but um, I can demonstrate some, but there may be times when I can't at all. I was hoping that since it's the assistant coach position, that wouldn't affect it too much."

Her lips press together. "Right. We aren't expecting you to rally with the girls the entire time. Besides, I think your experience playing more than makes up for the fact that you can't do too terribly much. The head coach likes to take charge anyway, so I doubt she'll mind. You're still pretty functional, right? No problems lifting or anything like that?"

"Normal things I can still do, as long as it's not too heavy or I have to lift my arm above my head. It's taking time to heal. I go to PT on a regular basis, so some days may be worse for me than others."

Gail nods. "Are your physical therapy sessions in the morning? You'll mostly be needed from about one in the afternoon to about seven or eight, depending on games and where they're located."

"That won't interfere."

"Good. Now, the pay would be far less than what you're used to making," she begins. "But we're in a good district, so it's not as terrible as it could be." Gail leans back in her chair. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"What exactly would I be doing?"

Gail launches into the activities I'd be expected to do. It's not only coaching, but there's some paperwork involved along with making sure the players stay eligible to play. I'm fairly confident that I can do everything she explains.

"If you're still interested, I'm going to step out and call our head coach in."

"I'm still interested."

Gail steps out for a moment and then comes back in. "I don't think she'll have any objections to you, so I'm going to get you started on some paperwork. It'll have to be completed if this goes further anyway."

I'm in the middle of filling out a form when the head coach comes in. I turn and hear, "You've got to be kidding me," from a familiar voice.

My shoulders sag. There goes my potential job.

The head coach is Erica, Noah's ex-girlfriend.

***

When I get home, I'm surprised that Meredith isn't here. I wasn't sure if she would actually leave or not. I'm tempted to text her, but I don't. Instead, I watch TV for about an hour before getting hungry and going into the kitchen to start dinner. That's when Meredith walks in.

"Hey, how was your day?" I ask as she drops her purse and some papers onto the kitchen table.

She hops onto the counter next to where I'm standing at the stove. "You'll never believe it."

"Try me."

"I got a job today."

"Really? Doing what? Where?"

"Assistant tennis coach at Brady High School." Meredith raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for something. Why does that high school sound familiar? Did the team visit the school? No, I don't think so. Apparently, I'm taking too long to figure it out because she blurts out, "Erica is the head coach!"

Shit. That's right. "Start from the beginning."

"Well, I was looking at majors and saw my original one. I realized how much I miss the game, so on a whim, I looked up job openings. There was one. I filled out an application, got called into an interview today, and got the job. Then, I had to meet the head coach. I swear, if I hear, 'You've got to be kidding me' one more time, I might go crazy. She didn't want them to hire me, but Gail, the current assistant coach who is moving away, convinced her I was the best option they've had since the position became available. I start next week. How did you meet Erica anyway?"

"Through a friend of a friend."

"How concerned should I be about working with her? Is she going to make my life hell?"

I shake my head. "I don't think so. Things weren't that serious between us, and I'm sure she'll behave professionally."

Meredith doesn't seem so convinced. "Okay," she says anyway. "How was your day?"

"It was good; I'm in great shape."

"I could've told them that," she grins, causing me to laugh. "When do I get the tour? Do you practice in the arena you play in?"

I shake my head. "Some teams do, but we have a separate arena for practice. I have a full day off next week; we can go then."

"That'll work as long as I don't have PT and we're back in time for me to go to work." She pauses with a frown. "It's weird to think I have a regular normal-person day job."

"You'll get used to it."

It can't be easy. I don't know how I'll ever be able to do anything outside of the league. Once I retire, I want to stay as involved as I can be. Meredith is struggling, and she hasn't even officially retired yet. That's something that's nagging me in the back of my mind, too. If she is able to return to the game, does that mean we're over again? I don't want to think about that until I have to.

She seems lost in her head while I finish cooking. Without me having to ask, she gets the plates and fixes our drinks. I watch her intently. She eats slowly, mostly just poking and moving her food around. When she does speak, she surprises me with what she asks.

"Do you think everything happens for a reason, Noah? Like do you think when bad things happen to us, there's some reason behind it?"

The pain she feels shows as she pinches her brows together, frowns, and that dead void is ever-present in her gaze. _I hurt. I hurt in so many unimaginable ways, Noah._ What bad thing is she thinking of? Her injury? Her relationship with Vance? That doesn't seem to match the emotion she's showing me. Why hasn't she shared whatever it is that's causing her so much pain?

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "It's life. All we can do is make the best of it and keep moving forward."

She doesn't seem satisfied with my answer. "I wish you could've been there with me. It might've made it easier somehow to have at least one person to lean on."

I frown. "What are you talking about? You could've leaned on your parents or your friends. You weren't alone, Mere."

Her eyes widen a little in surprise, but then it disappears as she nods. "Right. You're right."

She's hiding something. There's something more she hasn't said yet. I don't question her immediately because she stands to put away her dish and then leaves me alone in the kitchen as she disappears down the hall. Does she not trust me? I've never done anything to cause her to mistrust me or doubt my ability to be there for her. She's the one who walked away and stayed away until now.

With a sigh, I quickly clean up the kitchen. I lie down on the couch to watch TV when she reenters the room, now wearing shorts and a T-shirt. I hold out my hand for her to lie with me. My fingers immediately begin playing with strands of her hair, running through it or twirling it around my forefinger. I've always loved her hair. It's the perfect shade of brown to make those dark green eyes stand out.

What happened at dinner keeps replaying in my mind. I don't think I can let it go. I keep my voice low and gentle, not wanting her to close up on me. "What happened when you didn't think you had someone to lean on? What were you talking about?"

It's like I pressed a button to cause her body to lock up on me, all her muscles tensing and her chest pausing mid-breath. "Nothing," she answers in this weak voice.

My eyes squeeze closed. It's a struggle to keep my voice even, and I can't help the undercurrent of anger. "Don't lie to me, Meredith." She doesn't say anything for a few painful moments, and I sigh heavily as the anger fades to leave the heart of my emotions behind: fear. "How are we going to work if you won't talk to me? You came back to me to put your life together. You want me to help make you better. How can I do that if you're not telling me what I need to know, so I can help? Do you not trust me? I don't understand."

Meredith lifts her head and places a finger over my lips to make me stop. She looks even more pained than before. Her eyes are watery, then tears give way to tumble onto her cheeks. I reach up to wipe them away.

"I trust you. It's nothing like that, Noah, I promise." Her eyes drop to where the tattoo is underneath my shirt. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

"Not ready to talk about it with me?" I ask, hoping that's she's talked to her mom, even though I know she hasn't.

"With anyone."

Fuck. It has to be something big because she's still crying. Those few simple tears have become more frequent, her breathing is shaky, and she's trying to hold it together. She's struggling when all she has to do is tell me, so I can better comfort her. I wait. I wait for her to make that decision to confide in me and let me into her past. It looks like I'll be waiting awhile.

"You'll tell me when you're ready?"

She nods, but it doesn't bring me any comfort. However, I need to trust that she'll keep her word.

"Okay. If you need a shoulder to cry on, I'm here, no questions asked."

A dam within her breaks with my words. _Meredith_ breaks. She's crying worse than she did when she first told me about everything that's gone wrong. She scoots up my body, just a bit, to press her face against my neck, and I wrap my arms tightly around her. I've never seen her so... _broken_. Her sobs rack her entire torso. God, I wish I could demand she tell me. Holding her can only do so much. It's a temporary fix and I want a long-term solution. I want _us_ to be the long-term solution.

"Ssh," I whisper, rubbing my hands down her back. "It's okay." She shakes her head into my neck. "Yes, it is. You know why? Because you're with me and we're going to make it okay." I turn to kiss her forehead, letting my lips brush against her skin. "I'm here. I'm always here for you, Mere."

Her cries turn into hiccups. We lie like that for a long time before she speaks. "What's the worst thing to ever happen to you?"

Her question surprises me, but it also clues me in to whatever this secret is. She considers it the worst thing to ever happen to her? Including getting injured, having a successful surgery, only to mess up her shoulder again three days later when she and Vance were in a car accident?

I don't have to think about my answer because I know what it is. "Watching you walk away from me."

A defeated whoosh of air hits my neck. "Way to make me feel worse, Noah," she humorlessly laughs.

"I don't want you to feel worse, but I'm not going to lie to you either. It was difficult, but I don't regret it. Doesn't mean it hurt any less. For about six months, I called my mom and complained about how much I missed you."

This gets her attention and she props herself up with her arms on my chest. "Really?"

"Yeah," I say, wiping away the wetness. "Didn't you tell someone how much you missed me?"

She nods. "My mom. I guess I always thought you handled it well."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Why would you think that? Don't you remember what happened when you came to visit me that one time in college?"

Meredith leans into one of my hands, closing her eyes as if recalling the memory. "You nearly cracked a rib, you were holding onto me so tightly, and you kept asking for just one more minute." Her eyes open. "I heard your voice in my head for such a long time after that." She glances down and those eyes flash up at me again. "I came back to see you after that."

"What? When?" I never saw her again. I don't understand.

"End of your sophomore year. I was able to get enough information from your mom to figure out where I could find you. I waited around on a bench in the courtyard near your dorm, far enough away that you wouldn't notice me, but close enough that I could spot you. I was there for a few hours before I saw you."

I'm still confused. "Why didn't you come up to me?"

"You looked happy." When I tilt my head, still not getting it, she adds, "And you were with a girl. You kissed her. I didn't want to intrude and ruin anything."

All of a sudden, it hits me. "A redhead?" I ask, hoping she's not talking about the day I think she is.

"Yeah."

I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling. I know exactly what day she's speaking of. Damn it. "That's fucked up, Mere." I groan, frustrated with the knowledge that I was right, that she was so close, and I managed to push her away.

"Why?" she whispers.

"I still thought about you, more than I probably should have at that point, but I was dating. That girl? She was a great girl. We had gone on a few dates, but for some reason, I was thinking about you more than usual. I wanted to call you and make sure you were okay because I was worried. Then I was irritated with myself because if you wanted to be there, you would've been, and in the mean time, there was this fantastic chick in front of me who liked me. We had that weirdness between us where we weren't sure if things were going to go further that night or not.

"I saw you. I fucking _saw_ you and thought I was losing my mind. That you couldn't have possibly been there and that I just needed to focus on who was. So, I kissed her like I had done on our last date and asked her if she wanted to go up to my dorm. That was the last date we had, because I was still thinking about you so damn much, I," I wince just thinking about it, "said your name. God, I felt like such a dick. I thought I was going crazy. After that, I was more committed with moving forward."

"I'm sorry," she tells me quietly. "I guess I was fucking things up long before I realized it."

I sigh. "Don't be sorry. She started dating a teammate soon after. They're married now, so it all worked out." My hands move down to her waist and I squeeze. "I just hate that you were right there. Why did you come?"

"My week was terrible, I missed you, and I really wanted to see you." She rests her head on my chest again. "You really don't regret it?"

"No, I don't. I'd rather you leave and do what you thought you needed to do than stay and wonder what would've happened if you had left, or to regret staying with me."

Meredith doesn't say anything for a while. I continue to hold her, wondering what she's thinking. Part of me wants to ask her if she regrets walking away, but I don't. I fear she'll say yes, which sounds crazy. But if she does regret it, then it'll feel like all this time apart was time we could've been together. It'll sting that much more because it would mean we wasted time. I want my time away from her, and her time away from me, to be time well spent because in the end, it led us to where we are right this second.

With her in my arms.

Meredith finally wiggles away from me and stands. "I wish you had a hot tub, but I'll settle for your shower."

I grab her hand before she can get too far away. "I have an idea. Go pack an overnight bag while I make a phone call."

***

I'm so emotionally exhausted, I don't know what to do with myself. All I want is a relaxing shower and to go to bed. Noah has other plans. We both have an overnight bag, though I have no clue why. When we get into his SUV, he angles toward me, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a blue tie. I eye him warily and he laughs.

"Can I? I want it to be a surprise."

"It will be, because I don't know where we're going," I point out and look at the tie like it might attack me at any moment. I want to be able to see, to know what's coming, to be prepared for whatever's about to happen. If I'm going to crash and burn, I'd like to see it coming. God, why am I overanalyzing something so simple?

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course," I immediately answer.

He stares at me with these pleading eyes until I sigh and turn away from him. My eyes close on instinct as the tie is placed over my eyes. He ties a knot and sticks two fingers between it and my head. "That okay?" he asks anyway.

"Yeah." I carefully turn in my seat.

Noah laughs when I fumble for the seatbelt. "I'll do it."

My breath hitches when his fingers brush over my breasts as he pulls the seatbelt over me. He laughs again and I hear the click of the seatbelt. "Do you like being blindfolded?" A heady sensation fills me when I hear his voice so close to my ear, his breath tickling my skin.

"I like my ability to see," I manage to say.

He laughs as if he doesn't believe me. I hear the clinking of keys and the engine rumbles to life. Honestly, I'm not sure if I like this whole not-seeing thing. Yes, it ramps up the excitement because I don't know what's coming next, but the planner part of me is itching to remove it, so I can assess the situation and know how to proceed.

"We need to go on a date soon, Mere," Noah says, breaking the silence.

A grin lifts my lips. "Does this mean I get something better than a movie or pizza and the ice rink?" That's what all of our previous dates consisted of. A movie theater or the local ice rink was the one place our parents would let us go without them. After high school, we were too busy spending time with just the two of us to really go anywhere.

"What's wrong with a movie or the ice rink?" he says, mock offended. "Does my woman have higher standards now that we're all grown up?"

I giggle. The tension from earlier leaves as I relax into the seat. "Maybe. Will that be a problem?"

"Nope. You deserve the world, and I'm determined to give it to you."

I turn my head to the right, away from him, a smile playing on my lips.

His laugh rumbles throughout the car. "Just because you can't see me doesn't mean I can't see you."

"You shouldn't be seeing me at all. You're supposed to be focused on driving. How much longer?" I ask just as the car slows to a stop.

"We're here. Sit here for a second, okay? And don't remove the tie."

I start to feel fidgety, but I nod. The engine quiets as he turns it off and then his door opens and closes before the back door does the same. I assume he's getting our bags. The silence is deafening. My fingers reach up to the tie, running along the bottom of it. I'm so tempted. I really want to obey Noah so he can do this surprise like he wants to. I'm not sure why this is such a problem for me, especially with Noah. I mean, I already flaked out on him today with my outburst of tears and trip down memory lane.

Slowly, I lower my hand into my lap. An eternity seems to pass before my door opens.

"It's me," Noah reassures when I'm startled. The seatbelt is undone and he grabs me by the hips and helps me out of the car. "We're going to walk for a bit, okay?" I nod as he interlocks his fingers with mine, shuts the door, and I hear the locks click. He begins walking.

I do not like this part. I feel like I'm going to trip at any second. It doesn't help that Noah seems to be walking so damn fast. Does he normally? "Damn it, Noah," I curse as I stumble.

"Shit. Sorry, Mere. I forgot to tell you to step up. Here." His arms move to my back and then hook under my knees as he lifts me into his arms. "I'll carry you through the dangerous parts." His tone is teasing, so I laugh instead of freaking out.

Next, I hear what sounds like doors sliding open. There's noises, but they're soft and I can't distinguish them. Is that running water? The sound fades as another pair of doors opens and then closes. Noah sets me down onto my feet, letting my body slide against his. For a moment, I'm distracted by the sensation. My stomach drops a little and I think we're in an elevator. Did he drive around only to bring me back to his place? It's quiet aside from the hum, so I think we're alone.

Noah places an open-mouthed kiss on my neck as he tugs on my hips to pull me flush against him. My entire body relaxes into him. His tongue swirls on my skin, weakening my knees, and my breathy moan is a bit too loud for an elevator. Noah's chest shakes against my back as he laughs.

"We're not alone," he whispers.

My cheeks heat up and it's then that I hear a throat clear from nearby. "Sorry," I squeak to whoever else is here with us. Noah is still laughing under his breath, so I jerk my elbow back into his ribs, enjoying the humph that leaves him.

There's a ding and the doors slide open. Noah places his hands on my waist and gently urges me forward. We walk/waddle like this for nineteen steps. Yes, I counted. How can a door close, but not open? It's a hard, heavy thud, but I swear I didn't hear it open. His hands slide down, his fingers closing over the hem of my shirt, and he begins to lift. I fold my arms, so he can't go any further.

"We're alone now," Noah whispers into my ear, humor touching his tone.

With his confirmation, I lift my arms up. "What are we doing? Where are we?"

"You'll see," is all he says. He places soft kisses across my shoulders as he unhooks my bra next. His fingers trail over my skin from my back to my stomach. The button of my shorts is popped open. Noah's lips sear their way down my chest to my stomach as he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband. "Help me out a little here." It takes a moment, but it clicks what he wants and I slip out of my flip-flops. I'm expecting his mouth to go lower, for him to keep kissing me, but once my shorts and panties are removed, nothing happens.

After a moment, his hand grasps mine and he tugs. Wherever he leads me has a cool floor instead of the carpet we were just standing on. Finally, I feel him tugging at the knot of the tie. When it falls away, all I can manage to do is stare. There's a dozen flames flickering from the wicks of heavenly-smelling candles, but in front of me is a jacuzzi full of hot, steamy water.

"Hot tub, jacuzzi, close enough, right?" A naked Noah walks past me and lowers himself into the large tub.

"How did you do this?" I ask, taking his outstretched hand to step into the tub and sit down in front of him, my back to his chest. God, this water feels so good. So does a naked Noah.

"I made a phone call. The manager at this hotel is a huge Rebels fan; I've stayed here before when I was on other teams and we came to play the Rebels. All I had to do was promise a signed jersey and he got this hotel suite put together for me."

I lean my head back against his shoulder and close my eyes. "Thank you, Noah."

"Anything for you," he murmurs, kissing my cheek.

My mind wanders as we relax. Noah palms his hands over mine and interlocks our fingers, resting our joined hands on my stomach. I'm really surprised he hasn't tried to take this further already. Maybe that's another way he's different than before. We can touch without him getting handsy and suggesting sex.

"What was your first thought when you saw me at the airport?" he asks out of the blue.

"I couldn't believe you were there. I was about to leave because I had talked myself out of coming, and then there you were. I wondered if it was a sign. Once you sat down next to me on the plane, I didn't know if I was thrilled you were there and that I still wanted to crawl into your lap to kiss you or stupid to think you'd want me to. When I left, we never talked about what could happen in the future, even though I always figured I'd come back to you. What did you think?"

"That I wanted to kiss you and never let you out of my sight again. Then I was worried because you hadn't planned on coming."

And now it's time for a change in subject. I don't want to talk about everything that's messed up. "Do you like living here?"

"Yeah. I've lived in a lot of places, and this is definitely the one I love most."

"Do you think you'll stay in Carolina for a while?"

"I'm hoping I'll get an extension at the end of this season." He kisses my neck, moving one of his hands up my body at a tortuously slow pace while the other heads south. "Do _you_ like it here?"

"Well, it's not Pittsburgh," I tease, "but it has its perks."

"Yeah? What are those?"

"Nice weather. Nice hotels with jacuzzis. Great places to shop and explore. Oh, god," I moan when he dips just his hand between my legs. My hips wiggle when he doesn't do anything but rest there.

"Are you forgetting something?"

"Um." I pretend to think it over.

"Mere," he warns.

"Oh yeah, there's this really hot hockey player I've met. Maybe you know him." His fingers slide a little lower and I feel only a little bad about what I'm about to tell him.

"What's his name?" He applies some pressure, but waits on my answer.

"Marc." I can't help my giggle as he pauses. He pinches my nipple hard. "Ow!" I laugh.

"That was not funny."

"Then why am I laughing?"

Noah whips me around. His face is so serious, it causes me to laugh harder. He crashes his lips to mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth. His kiss is so deep and consuming. "Tell me," he demands.

"Noah Ramsey," I breathe.

"Are you done relaxing in the jacuzzi?" I nod. "Good. If I'm going to fuck you, I'm going to need more room." When I stand to get out, Noah runs his eyes up my body. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"I'll make sure you go happy and satisfied." I step out of the tub and head out to the main room. "Going to be hard to do, though, if you don't join me."

I grin when I hear the water sloshing.

Physical therapy is a pain in my ass. My new therapist seems okay. However, since it's been a few days since my last session, my shoulder has been sore and achy. I haven't said a word about it, though. It needs to be somewhat prepared for any activity I do when I start my new job. I've played through pain before. That's one reason why my shoulder became as bad as it did. I tried to ignore the pain and weakness until I couldn't any longer.

The tear was the biggest my doctor had seen. Surgery was the only option. Getting into a car accident so soon afterward set me back by damaging it again. It seemed like my life started having setbacks one after another. So many things have changed as a result.

For example, I've never considered myself needy. Reassurances are great, but I never thought I _needed_ them. Never did I wonder if I was capable of something. Never did I want someone to tell me that I was capable, that I could do it, and that I would do well.

But here I am, the night before I start my new job, and I'm having problems. This is my first night in his apartment without him lying in bed next to me and so far, I don't like it. See? Example one of being needy. Example two is that I fear I'm going to fail at being an assistant coach, and the only thing I want right now is the person who is in another state because he had a preseason game.

I want to call Noah, but I hesitate. He's not used to this me. The me who had her confidence and self-worth shaken by Vance on top of a potentially career-ending injury. My life seemed to be over. He drilled into me that I was an idiot to think I had a part in the tennis world without the ability to play, and he assured me that I had lost that. Even though there's more to this coaching position than that, I can't help but wonder what the hell they were thinking in hiring me.

And being by myself while Vance was away never made me feel as lonely as I do right now. I never missed him this much. Granted, there's a huge difference between Noah and Vance, but even with other, nicer boyfriends, it was never like this.

My phone rings and I scramble from Noah's side of the bed, because yes, I was lying over there since I miss him, to the other nightstand to grab my phone.

"Hey," I answer.

"Miss me yet?"

"Only a little," I lie, settling into his side of the bed again. "When are you coming home?"

Noah laughs. "That's the kind of question someone who missed me a lot would ask."

"Fine. I miss you like crazy. When are you coming back?"

"We're flying out tomorrow night after the game. It'll be late when I get home."

Ugh. I need to get myself together. Noah's job requires him to travel, so I need to get used to this, especially if I do return to the game. I need to figure out how to undo what Vance did because then I'll be able to handle this a lot better. Yet, I still find myself saying something because I need to hear him say it. "Usually when someone tells you they miss you, the other person says they missed them too."

There's the briefest of pauses. "I've missed you, Mere."

I relax a little more. "Good. I'll sleep naked tomorrow night and you have permission to wake me when you get home."

Noah groans. "Don't torture me."

"I'm not. Just giving you something to look forward to."

"Mission accomplished. Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"Not really. I'm nervous. They had to be high or idiots to hire me, right? It doesn't make sense." It's truly baffling.

Noah laughs. "Baby, I don't think it's good to say your boss was high or an idiot to hire you. You have tons of experience as a player, and lots of coaches used to be players. They're not going to just throw you into the lion's den. They'll help you."

Not so sure Erica is going to be very helpful by how many glares she threw my way when she saw me after the interview. That's not what holds me silent, though. He called me _baby_. A shudder runs through me because when I think that word, it's not in Noah's voice. It's in Vance's.

"You there?" he asks, his voice back to being serious.

"Did you call me _baby_?"

There's a pause, but then he says with confusion, "Yeah, I guess so. You don't like that?"

"I prefer Mere; you're the only one who's ever called me that."

He perks up. "Yeah? Not even that prick?" Prick being what Noah now prefers to call Vance.

I swallow hard. "Baby was his preference." And then I decide to change the subject before we can focus on this. "Are you seriously getting excited because calling me Mere when no other boyfriend has is...what? Like one-upping those ex-boyfriends or something?"

"In a way, yeah. It's kind of in my nature to be competitive and be the best. Considering you're the most important person in my life, that part is amplified. I want to be your best everything."

"Aw, you're such a fucking sap, Rams," I hear Marc say in the background before he starts laughing.

"Shut the hell up." To me, he says, "Sorry. Text me, okay?"

"I will," I promise.

"And Mere?"

"Yeah?"

"You'll do great."

I sure hope so. It could be what I end up doing for the rest of my life.

"I'm sticking you with the freshmen because you can't possibly make them any worse," Erica tells me.

Gail shoots her a stern look. "That was uncalled for. Your personal issues with her need to stay out of this." So, I guess Gail now knows why Erica didn't want to hire me. Gail turns to me with a sympathetic smile. "This is my last week, so observe today. Feel free to interact with the girls and ask any questions. I'll help you learn the ropes." Erica walks out of the room before she can finish. "Sorry. She was really hoping she and Noah could work through their problems. You're an easy person to direct her anger toward. She'll come around."

I nod, but I don't believe her. True to her word, I shadow at first. Gail and I get the baskets of balls out onto the court as well as a few ball feeding machines. By the time we finish, Erica joins us and girls slowly file onto the courts. Gail is telling me their names as they arrive and checks them off on a clipboard.

"O.M.G! You're Meredith Quick!" a girl, Carrie, screams so loudly, I struggle not to wince. It's like everyone suddenly notices me and swarms in on me.

"Girls, girls," Gail says, and they quiet down. "Meredith is my replacement."

"No way!"

"Seriously!"

"This is awesome!"

The chorus of excitement helps me relax a little until a girl near the back asks, "Are you going to rally with us?"

"Don't be stupid, Kira. She had a career-ending injury. If she can't play in the pros, how can she rally?" Carrie snaps at her with a roll of her eyes. It's tempting to correct her because I'm still holding onto hope that I can continue with my career versus continuing with my backup plan.

"Watch it," Gail warns. "Meredith will not rally unless she feels as if she can. She's going to be a great asset in teaching you how to play, for those of you new to the game, and bettering the skills of those who are more familiar."

"Why did you and Vance Powers break up?" Carrie asks.

Gail jumps to my rescue once again. "Personal questions like that have no place in practice. If you wouldn't ask me or Erica about our relationships, then you don't ask Meredith. She's a coach and questions will be about tennis. Got it?"

Their heads nod in agreement.

"Good. Someone lead the stretches and then run your laps."

The girls disperse. This is going to take some getting used to. While they do as they were told, I learn that some of these girls have never played before. Erica usually works with the top-seeded girls while Gail works with those new to the sport. I expect Gail to throw me in head first, but she gives me another assignment.

"Watch the girls as they rally. All of them. Take notes, so we can help them improve. As a fellow player and having never watched them before, you may see something we don't." She hands me a clipboard with a pen and paper. "I've listed the courts and the girls' names, so we'll know who you're talking about while you're learning names. They'll practice with the ball feeder later and I'll have them call out their name the first time through, so you can make a new list."

It's easy enough, but also interesting to watch and critique the way someone else is playing. I'm used to being the person who gets critiqued. One girl who seems to have the most trouble and the least amount of help from anyone is Kira, the girl who asked if I would rally. After I have, hopefully, plenty of notes, I find Gail.

"How's it going?" she asks, eyeing them as they hit balls from the ball feeder.

"Good. Um," I hesitate, wondering if it would be a good idea.

"What is it?"

"Kira. Is she new to playing?"

Gail nods. "Yes. She had no prior experience. Tennis isn't a money-earner around here, so we don't make cuts like football might. Plus, the girl does try her best. She's one of the few who doesn't get a chance to play until our opponent has the same number of players or unless someone is injured."

That sounds terrible. She's part of the team, but not really? "Could I take her to the free court and work with her?" I ask.

"Sure."

I grab a basket of balls and call out, "Kira! Come with me."

Poor girl looks like she just got called to the principal's office. She runs over and then follows me to the last court, away from most of the girls. She seems nervous and fidgety. I place the basket stand down and turn to face her. "Can you do a practice swing for me?"

"Um, sure."

There's a lot wrong. I correct her grip, show her the proper stance, and give her a brief glance as I take her racket to show her the proper swing. "Focus on my feet, my hips, and then the actual swing, okay?" After I do it a few times, slowly to not aggravate my shoulder, I hand it back for her to try.

"What made you want to play?" I ask, watching her swings carefully. Something isn't adding up.

"I promised my mom I would step out of my comfort zone," she admits. "I'm, um, not exactly a social butterfly. I'm not good, but I really like it." She stops and looks serious for a moment. "I'm sorry about the dumb question earlier. I've always watched tennis and I didn't even think about your injury."

"It's okay. It wasn't a dumb question either. I haven't retired yet, and rallying is different than an intense game, so it makes sense that you may wonder if I could do that. Maybe we'll be able to rally some soon. Anyway," I take a deep breath to stop thinking about my injury. "I think you're brave for trying this. How does it feel when you swing?"

"Awkward."

"Are you right-handed?" She nods. "Try with your left. I knew a girl who had a dominant right hand in everything except tennis."

Her struggling swing immediately improves. She was using the wrong hand! I correct her grip and then have her do it a few more times.

"Wow. It feels more natural," Kira admits.

I grin. "Good. Let's test it out. I'll toss a ball. Let it bounce and then go for it."

***

I quietly enter the house, half-worried since Meredith never texted me about her day and half-excited because she should be naked in my bed right now. All I've been thinking about since getting on the plane to come home is the different possible ways I can wake her up. It's about two in the morning and sleep isn't my number one priority. I can sleep in a little tomorrow if I want.

The door to my bedroom is open. I avoid looking at the bed until I set my duffel bag down first. Meredith is indeed naked. She's lying on her back, one arm above her head and one hand on her breast, the covers sitting just below them. I grin. For some reason, Meredith grabs a boob in her sleep. I teased her about it a lot when we were younger and I'd sneak over to sleep at her house. I'd wake up and she would have her hand cupping one of them. It's good to know she still does it.

My mind only has one track. I lean over the bed, over her breasts, and know how I'll wake her. My head dips and I graze my teeth over the nipple of the breast she isn't holding hostage before pinching it between my teeth. She shifts, but doesn't wake up. I swirl my tongue around it as the arm above her head slides down toward me. I suck hard, releasing her breast with a pop, and then bite her nipple just a tad harder.

That wakes her up.

Her hands dive into my hair and she tugs to lift my head. "Noah?" God, her sleepy voice is enough to get me hard all on its own. Add a hooded gaze with lazy blinks as her fingers run through my hair and I'm ready to pounce.

"Are you expecting someone else?" I arch an eyebrow at her.

She shakes her head and then her eyes scan my body. "You're wearing a suit? Stand up."

I stand upright and she drinks me in.

"I've never seen you in a suit that actually fits you. Wow." She covers a yawn with her hand before moving onto her knees. "I'll help you undress." She reaches for my tie first.

"You never texted me about your day," I remind her, trailing my fingers over her stomach.

A smile lights her face, which is a fantastic sign. Unfortunately, she forgets all about undressing me as she sits on the bed, pulling the covers up, which leaves me to undress myself. "It was crazy. Erica wasn't all that nice to me, but Gail said she'll come around. The best part was working with this girl, Kira. It's her first year playing and," Meredith hesitates before adding, "she's not good."

"How is that the best part?" I interrupt, confused. I'm down to my boxer-briefs, so I get into bed next to her. Meredith cuddles up to me and I try to focus on the words she's saying instead of her body.

"Because! I helped her. She has the lowest seed, so she rarely plays. I noticed a few things and once I learned that, decided to work with her one on one." The cutest little frown appears. "I don't think they really paid attention to her. She's right-handed, but should've been playing with her left. She still has a ways to go, but god, Noah, she was so much better than she was. She might move up a few seeds after more practice. If every day is like today, I think I'll like it a lot. I was even able to demonstrate!"

"I'm glad you're liking it. Can I have my welcome home kiss now? You said you missed me a lot, but I haven't gotten a kiss yet. Maybe you didn't miss me as much as you said? I can get back on the plane."

She closes the distance between us and presses her mouth to mine. Meredith kisses me slowly. It's one of those unhurried, could last forever kind. When she pulls away, she has this sleepy look in her eyes. She snuggles closer to me.

"I'm glad you're home," she whispers.

"Me too. And guess what?"

"What?"

"You still grope yourself in your sleep."

She leans back to look at me. "What? I do not! You're the only one who's ever told me I hold a boob in my sleep and I don't think you're telling the truth."

I laugh. "How would I even come up with something like that?"

She shrugs and rests against me again. "I'm glad you woke me up, Noah."

"Me too. Although," I move my hand down to her ass, scooting her closer to me, "I may have expected more than us just talking."

"I'm tired."

Damn. All I've thought about since she told me she would be naked is what we were going to do once I got home and now she's tired. I move my hand back to her hip, kiss the top of her head, and close my eyes.

But then, she giggles, her hand sneaking underneath my waistband as she says, "Just kidding. I thought you'd try to persuade me."

"Next time, I most definitely will."

Two days later, I have a day off. Meredith has been really interested in seeing the practice arena, and learning more about my career in general, so we make our first stop there today. I offered to let her come watch practice yesterday, but she declined. She wants to wait until the season starts since she's never seen me play as a pro.

She listens as I show her around, but there's honestly not a lot to see. There's the rink, the training rooms, a few conference rooms, some offices, and a lobby-like room, to name a few things. After we finish a walkthrough, we drive downtown for some lunch.

"Do you ever workout outside of the team?" she asks once our waitress walks away.

"Yeah. The apartment complex has a gym and pool on the top floor."

She shakes her head at me. "That would've been good to know."

"I hadn't thought about it."

"It's fine. I was going to try to find a gym, but now I don't have to. I need to stay active." She glances down at herself with a frown. She isn't overweight by any means, but she's unfit compared to the weight she would be if she was still playing. "I'll have to be careful with my shoulder, though," she adds in a sigh. "Sometimes I wish I never played to start with."

Did I forget to mention she's having a bit of a bad day?

"Yeah, but without playing, your life would be so different. We might not have met if you never played," I point out.

"What are you talking about? We went to the same high school."

"Yeah, and it was a huge school. I didn't know who you were until we went to watch Ashley play."

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen. "We had a class together the semester before she joined the team."

"No, we didn't." Because I would've remembered.

"Yes, we did. We had Mrs. Tuttle for English our sophomore year! You probably didn't notice because you were too busy shoving your tongue down Kelsey Watson's throat."

Okay, so that's why I don't remember. Kelsey Watson and I liked to make out in between classes and Mrs. Tuttle always took a bathroom break before that period, so we had the opportunity. The waitress caught the tail end of what Meredith said because she was walking toward our table. She places our food before us and quietly leaves.

"Even so, tennis is still how I ended up noticing you." She doesn't say anything, but I grin. "So, you paid a lot of attention to me before we met?"

Meredith rolls her eyes. "Kind of hard to ignore you when you and Kelsey Watson were trying to eat each other's faces." I laugh, but immediately stop when she adds, "I think I'm going home."

I nearly choke on my chicken. "What?" Panic swarms me at the thought of her walking away again. Why in the hell does she want to leave already? She can't! I just got her back. No way in hell.

"For the weekend, Noah. Mom doesn't know what to pack for me. You'll be out of town anyway, so I thought I could fly home and pack up my clothes. I'm tired of having to buy new stuff."

I take a long gulp of my drink, the panic still clawing at me. Maybe Meredith isn't the only one with issues. _She's coming back. It's only for the weekend. Get a fucking grip, Noah!_ Clearing my throat, I manage a calm voice. "Okay, yeah. That sounds good."

She eyes me for a moment like I'm not fooling her, but she doesn't make a comment. "I'll probably see if I can get flight out tomorrow since I don't have to work, and then I'll come back Sunday night."

"Seems like a good plan. Hope is probably anxious to see you and hear more about your job and me," I finish, flashing her a grin. There's still an uneasiness about this mini trip, which is ridiculous. I can't help it. Yeah, I was okay with her leaving before, but she still left. How is it still able to fuck me up when I have her back?

"Are you okay with this, Noah?" Meredith asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Why wouldn't I be?" The waitress drops off our check and I reach into my back pocket for my wallet. "You're going home for the weekend, and I won't be here anyway, so it's no big deal."

"All right. Let's go, so I can change and get to work."

I'm paying with cash, so we leave it on the table with the bill. I take her hand as we walk out of the restaurant. Wanting to get us back to normal, I start talking. "Winter can be mild here, so you shouldn't need anything heavier than a coat or hoodie and maybe some gloves. It won't start getting cold for a little while, though."

"Will it snow?"

Her question makes me laugh. "If it does, people freak the fuck out. They don't get it often enough to know how to handle it, I guess. I think ice is more often the case instead of snow."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I'll miss the snow."

"Really?"

Meredith never really cared for the white fluff, and based on what Hope would tell me, she more often than not spent any time off in the winter months somewhere warm. In fact, I think the longest time she's spent in the house she owns in Pittsburgh is the months after she returned home to rehab her injury before she came to North Carolina.

"Yeah, weird, right? It just doesn't quite feel like the holidays without it. What is Christmas usually like with you since it's during the season?"

"We get three days off. Sometimes, I'll fly home; sometimes, I don't. This year, I'm going to try with it being my nephew's first Christmas. We'll see how it goes." It's still September and way too early to be thinking about the holidays.

We arrive at my apartment, enjoying a comfortable silence as we ride the elevator up to my floor. My brows pull together in confusion when I see a box sitting outside of my door. Meredith rushes toward it, picking it up, and throwing me a smile.

"What is it?"

She tries to shrug casually. "Just something I ordered."

"Not going to tell me?"

"Nope." She heads to the bedroom without looking back.

My phone vibrates and I check my texts as I take a seat on the couch.

**Marc:** _I'm bored. Want company?_

**Me:** _Come on._

"Have fun with Marc." I tilt my bead back at the sound of Meredith's voice behind me. She's standing behind the couch.

"Have fun at work."

She leans down to kiss me. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Mere."

She smiles and then she's gone. I'm tempted to find the box to see what she ordered, but decide not to. She didn't want me to know, so I won't snoop.

Marc arrives about thirty minutes later and he starts up my gaming console, handing me a controller. I glare at him, as usual, when he props his feet up on my coffee table. At least he's learned to remove his shoes first.

"How's it going with your hot girlfriend?"

"Fine."

He looks at me. "Fine? That's the kind of answer you use when someone asks how you are and you aren't okay, but you don't want to talk about it, so you say you're fine. You're finally with the girl you've been wanting for fucking ever and all you can say is things are fine? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I snap. "Things have been great so far. She's here; we're happy."

"Who knew people could pick up where they left off so easily after what, eight years? Damn, that's a long time." When I glare at him, he shrugs. "Fine. I'll leave it alone. You taking her to Mike's BBQ?"

We have a day off next weekend, and head coach Darrell Michaelson, who we call Mike, has invited the entire team to his house for a get-together.

"If she wants to go, yeah."

"Why wouldn't she want to go?"

I groan. "Shut the hell up and play the damn game. I didn't mean she wouldn't want to; I haven't said anything about it to her yet is all I meant."

Marc whistles. "For someone who's finally happy, you sure are pissy."

The only way to get him to stop talking about it is to ignore him. I don't know what's caused my mood to sour, or if it has anything to do with how I'm a little antsy about her leaving this weekend regardless of all the logic in the world, but I do know I don't want to talk about it.

***

"I'm coming back," I wheeze, barely able to breathe through Noah's hold on me.

"I know." He loosens his hold and I wonder if he thinks I'm lying. He didn't obsess over me this much when he left earlier this week for games. He leans down for yet another long, slow, deep kiss. If it weren't for his odd behavior putting me on edge, I'd be too lost in his kiss to pay attention to the time.

"I'm going to miss my flight, Noah," I tell him, breaking the kiss.

He gives me one more quick kiss and releases me. "Let me know when you get there and tell your parents I said hey."

"I will."

"And you'll be here when I get home Sunday?"

"Yep."

Noah nods to himself, kisses me one more time, and then I'm finally able to leave. His hovering as I finished up my packing this morning and then our twenty-minute goodbye has me anxious. I get to the airport without any problems. Noah has texted me, wishing me a safe flight. I text him back before texting my mom.

**Me:** _Flight lands at 11:30. Are you still picking me up?_

**Mom:** _Sorry, my doctor's appointment today was changed. Dad is picking you up, but I'll come over to help you afterward_

**Me:** _Okay, thanks._

With nothing to do but wait, my mind gets lost in analyzing my time in Raleigh so far. It's unbelievable to think Noah and I are together again. He welcomed me back with open arms. Things have been really good so far, I think. This is the first time we've ever lived together, but we haven't annoyed each other with any quirks yet. Again, this has been seamless. Well, aside from Noah freaking out when I told him I was coming home for the weekend.

Work has been good. Mostly because Erica has avoided me as much as possible. She won't be able to for long because yesterday was Gail's last day. I'm not sure how things will be next week when it's just the two of us.

Life seems to be settling into place. I have a job I love, and I'm with a man I love. What more do I need? That answer swiftly enters my mind. I need for PT to progress at a faster rate and for my shoulder to heal. Then again, I love my current job so much that I'm wondering if I should try to return to the game or not. Is it sad that the main reason I want to retire is so that it means I'll never run into Vance again?

It's true. But what kind of person does that make me to let a man run me away from what I've worked for my entire life? I've been playing since I could walk. Every decision I made was for my career. How can I not try everything possible to get back to that place? On the other hand, doing just that is what caused me to walk away from Noah. It would be difficult for us to maintain a long-distance relationship, especially after all of our time apart already. Noah might not even want that. I'm not even sure if _I'd_ want that.

Ugh. I hate thinking about my future. It reminds me that many aspects of my life are still up in the air. Things are better, but not quite right still. Plus, I don't know what it is exactly, but something is off about this weekend. Whether it's just me, Noah, or both of us, I'm not sure.

Relief fills me when I'm finally on the plane. It's not a long flight, thankfully. I'm ready to see my parents and I'm grateful I'll be spending the weekend with them instead of alone at Noah's apartment. I guess it should be _our_ apartment, but it's really not. Noah refuses to accept money for rent because he "would be paying it anyway." He manages to clean before I can get the chance to most of the time. I've bought groceries a few times, though. Maybe his place will feel more like home once my clothes are there. However, I'm not sure if there will be enough room in his closet and dresser. It's even worse when he's not home. I definitely feel like I need to be extra careful with his things. It'll just take time, right?

My dad is supposed to be waiting at baggage claim for me. I laugh when I spot him holding a paper reading _Ms. Quick_. I rush over and throw my arms around him, missing him more than I'd realized. I wasn't exactly social when I was home, too lost in my own head and too wrapped up in my PT sessions.

"Hey, Meredith. It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Dad. Thanks for the sign. I'm not sure how I would've found you otherwise." I roll my eyes, causing him to laugh.

"You could've forgotten what I looked like, so I brought it just in case. How was your flight?"

"Boring. Why did Mom go to the doctor?" I ask as we begin to walk out of the airport.

"Just a checkup. Are you hungry? We can grab a bite to eat before I take you to your house."

"I'm not really hungry."

Once we get into his car, I text Noah of my arrival and Dad fills me in on their visit to see Ashley and her baby. It blows my mind that Noah and I were only together for two years while in high school, and in that time, our families became close. I even became best friends with his younger sister. When I walked away, I walked away from the entire family as well. It was also weird and a little painful to hear when Mom and Dad would get together with them. I haven't seen them since I left him. I wonder if they are happy we're back together. I file that question away for later to ask Noah.

"How's that boy treating you?" Dad asks as we pull into my driveway.

"Good. Going to see him was probably the best decision I've made in a long time."

He cuts the engine and we sit there for a moment. "Are you happy?"

"Happier than I have been."

"Good. I bought some boxes for you."

"Thanks."

With that, we get out. Dad insists on getting the boxes from the trunk while I go unlock the door. This house doesn't really feel like home. I've had it for a few years, but I rarely spent a lot of time here. It's a bit too big with its four bedrooms and basement. I fell in love with it for some reason, though. Ironic that I pretty much walked away from it, too. Even after staying here for a solid six months, it doesn't feel like home.

I'm ready to have a home. Maybe that's yet another reason why I should retire. It's been difficult for me to feel as if I have a home when I was away from it so much. Then again, not playing hasn't made my house feel like a home. If it weren't for keeping things from my parents, I would've moved back in with them in a heartbeat. Things could be different now that I'm living with Noah if I stay long enough.

But what if Noah's apartment never gives me that feeling of relief and peacefulness when you walk into the door because you're in the place you feel most comfortable? What if I've traveled so much, I never find that place?

"Here you go."

I swivel at the sound of Dad's voice. He sets the boxes down, leaning them against the wall of my bedroom.

"Are you okay? Something on your mind?"

"Not really."

Dad watches me as I assemble one of the boxes and open my closet door. The first thing that catches my eye are the three jerseys. I might not have watched Noah or kept up with his career, but I always bought a jersey with his name on it. With everything going on, I wasn't able to buy a Carolina Rebels jersey until this past week. I grab the jerseys and place them into the box. I definitely want to take those.

My phone dings and there's a text from Noah, who probably just finished up at practice.

**Noah:** _How's packing?_

**Me:** _Just starting._

"Are you sure everything is okay with you and Noah?" Dad asks as I turn back to my closet.

"Do you think something is wrong?"

He laughs, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. "I don't think there's smooth sailing in paradise."

I glance at him to roll my eyes as I fold some clothes and place them in the box.

"What's on your mind, Meredith?" he presses, my phone dinging with another text.

**Noah:** _Don't forget all your sexy lingerie._

**Me:** _I won't. Don't forget to make room for my clothes before you leave for your games._

**Noah:** _Doing it this afternoon._

"Are you going to ignore me?"

"No," I sigh, facing my closet. I shift through the hangers and pretend to be looking at what I want to take. "I don't know if it's worth mentioning is all."

"If it's bothering you, then it's worth it. Is it you or Noah?"

"Both?"

Dad sighs now. He's probably annoyed at my evading. Maybe it's something about Pittsburgh or this house that causes me to not want to talk about anything.

"Noah seemed freaked out when I told him I was coming home," I say to my closet. "He relaxed when I added it was only for the weekend, but it took twenty minutes for him to say goodbye to me this morning and reconfirm when I was coming back. That's weird, right?" To have something to do, I grab a few jackets and place them in the box.

Dad has his thinking face on, his lips slightly pursed and his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. "It's always easier for a man to handle himself walking away than if his woman walks away."

"So, Noah's scared I'll leave him again?"

"Possibly."

The familiar guilt and regret from my actions in the past grip my throat, especially since if I return to tennis, we could have a repeat of what happened when we were teenagers.

"Or," Dad continues, "he's still struggling with the side effects of you leaving him."

"What do you mean?"

"There could be some resentment, some fear, some anger. Just leftover emotions he may not have dealt with."

I frown. "I sort of get that, but we both agreed to break up."

"But it was your idea," Dad interrupts. "Noah was always unsure about it. There wasn't much he could do in protest because you were going to leave him regardless." When I open my mouth to protest, Dad hurries to add, "If he had begged you, would you have changed your mind? If he had flat-out refused, would you have still walked away?"

Would I have? If I knew then what I know now, then definitely not. Otherwise, I would have still walked away.

"Noah didn't want you to go, but you laid out your reasoning, told him how badly you wanted it, and he didn't put up much of a fight." He's right. Now that I think about it, Noah hardly fought to keep me. "He wanted you to be happy and you pretty much told him breaking up was the only way you would be. It wasn't a mutual agreement, Meredith. Noah just didn't protest."

"How do you know all these things?" I ask a question that doesn't really matter.

"You talked to your mom, Noah talked to his sister who talked to her mom, and we talked to each other." He shrugs.

Not wanting to think about it anymore, I go back to packing. Dad leaves shortly after Mom arrives. She does more than Dad to help me pack up, and I'm able to avoid talking much about the apparent problems with Noah and me. Conversation has been on safe topics, like my new job, until Mom gets unusually quiet. Something is clearly on her mind.

"What do you want to talk to me about, Mom?" I finally ask as we break to eat the pizza I had delivered.

"Vance called."

My throat dries and I feel lightheaded. "What?" I force myself to keep a mostly normal tone.

"We weren't home, so he left a message. He wanted us to call him back and let him know how to get in touch with you since you changed your number."

"Did you?" _God, please say no._

"No."

My body immediately relaxes. "Good. Don't."

"You aren't curious as to why he wants to talk to you?"

"No," I snap. "I am not. There's nothing he could want that would be worth speaking to him."

Mom is quiet for only a minute or so. "Have you at least told Noah why you and Vance broke up?"

"Yes." I take a deep breath and decide to fill her in as much as I did Noah. "Vance didn't want me anymore, Mom. You saw how I was when I came home. I was needy and had too much going on in my head. Vance didn't want that in a wife."

Mom frowns. "You weren't needy, Meredith. You were in a bad place, yes, but there's nothing wrong with that considering what you're going through. If that's why he left, then good riddance."

Yes, good riddance indeed.

The weekend seems to fly by. I finished packing what clothes I wanted Saturday and spent the rest of my time hanging out with my parents and preparing my house to be left unattended. Mom is going to stop by every so often to check on things.

Noah has been texting me a lot all weekend, especially today to confirm when I'll be home. I'm not sure why it matters since he's not getting in until late tonight. He's on the verge of driving me crazy. I don't think I can really blame him, but we're eventually going to have to tackle this issue.

I get to his apartment around one in the afternoon. It's so quiet and lonely without Noah. As requested, I text him.

**Me:** _Home sweet home._

**Noah:** _Good! Want me to wake you up when I get there?_

**Me:** _Yep._

Despite getting on my nerves, I miss him. Our lack of problems so far as well as what my dad said to me over the weekend has been bugging me. Before I can change my mind, I send another text.

**Me:** _Do you think we'll make it this time around, Noah?_

**Noah:** _Do you plan to leave me again?_

_That's_ his first, quick response? It hurts and angers me. I throw my phone to the other side of the couch. It chimes with another text, but I don't bother reading it. In fact, I grab the car keys and walk out of the door. He can deal with the silent treatment for a while. It's not like we'll really be able to hash it out with him on the road and in a game in a few hours anyway.

***

I'VE NEVER BEEN so nervous for a fucking preseason game as I am tonight, and it's all because I can't seem to focus. I knew I fucked up the moment I hit send. Her question threw me off; I wasn't expecting the change in topic and sent the first thing that came to mind. I tried texting her and calling her, but she's been ignoring me.

"Rams, what the hell? Go." Marc shoves my shoulder to propel me forward.

Being lost in my head has created a gap between me and the person ahead of me from the line we formed to head out of the tunnel. I shake my head as if that could erase her from my mind. Hearing the national anthem starts coating my mind in efforts to numb it from anything not hockey-related. There's still a little voice in the back of my mind talking incessantly about any possible repercussions from my fuck-up. My body easily shifts gears like an automatic memory muscle response the moment my skates touch the ice.

However, just because my body is doing what it should doesn't mean it's communicating correctly with my head. Thank goodness this is a preseason game and some of the younger guys need more ice time. If this game depended on me, we'd be losing terribly. We're not, and I only know this because I've stood to bump fists a few times.

I wonder what Meredith is doing, though. How mad is she? Probably fucking pissed. I need to figure out how to make it up to her.

I'm on the ice and Marc passes me the puck. I should easily have it on my stick, but somehow I allow a guy to swoop in and steal it from me. It takes three seconds to realize I don't have it. Fuck. I pump my legs and trail after everyone else who is already paces ahead of me. My mistake causes a near goal, if not for Liam Irving being so solid.

"Rams! What the fuck are you doing out there?" Marc bitches at me the moment we're on the bench at the end of our shift. "How did you mess up a simple pass?"

"Back the fuck off, Marco," I snap, calling him by his nickname. "Shit happens."

"It's just not like you is all."

He's right. But I've never had Meredith in my head during a game either.

It's not often I enter my apartment feeling completely anxious. Meredith never texted me back after I was an ass to her. All I want to do is make up and move on. When I quietly enter my room, Meredith isn't in my bed. My heart starts pounding. Was she so pissed that she left?

No. Meredith wouldn't leave things like that. Right? She said she was here to stay, which is what I should've thought about before texting her. She wouldn't leave at the first problem, would she? I want to say she wouldn't, even though my thundering heartbeat suggests otherwise. My gut says she wouldn't leave without saying something first. She has to still be here. Plus, my car is here.

So, where is she?

It takes five long, panicked minutes of staring at my empty bed for it to click. I turn and walk the short distance to the guest bedroom. My lungs freeze as I slowly push the door open. The air empties out when I see her asleep in the wrong bed.

She didn't leave.

Ignoring her choice of where to sleep and the volumes it speaks, I hurry to the bed, getting one knee onto the bed before I stop short as something wiggles in front of Meredith's chest.

What the hell?

I crawl the rest of the way, lean over her body, and turn on the lamp. There's a little white puppy trapped in her arms. I brace my arms on either side of her as the puppy stares at me and lean down to kiss her cheek. Her eyelids flutter.

"Why is there a puppy in my apartment, Mere?"

At the sound of my voice, she rolls onto her back, blinking slowly at me a few times. "I wanted something to cuddle with when you're gone."

"Where'd you find him?"

"At the pet store. He was up for adoption and I had to have him."

Her brain must be lagging because she hasn't realized she's pissed at me yet. I pick up the puppy and lie next to her with my back against the headboard. He's a cute little guy. Some kind of terrier, I think.

"Why aren't you in my bed?" I ask, nuzzling the sleepy puppy under his chin.

She reaches over and gently takes the puppy from me. "Because you're a jackass and I'm pissed off," she deadpans, rolling away from me as if she's going to sleep, cuddling the puppy to her chest again.

"Mere," I begin, but she cuts me off.

"Don't Mere me, Noah. Just get out. We can talk about it tomorrow."

"No."

She rolls over with a glare. "No? Fine. Let's talk about how a weekend for me to go home and get clothes, so I can live _here_ with _you_ , freaked you the hell out! Don't throw out any bullshit about me leaving you either. You told me you were okay with it. You didn't fight to keep me, Noah. How is it my fault?"

"Fight to keep you? What would've been the point? So you'd stay and resent me? There's no way I would've told you to stay, no matter how much I wanted it. I had no problem with the idea of long distance. You were the one who didn't think we'd last."

"That's not why I left!" she shouts. She's right. She left because she wanted her career more than she wanted me. Meredith huffs and rolls back over. Her voice is calm, and that scares the hell out of me. "Get out of my room."

"Since when do you give up so easily?"

"Since I realized I don't have to talk about it if I don't want to."

"And look how well that's done you."

"Yeah, back here with you," she deadpans.

I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on it in frustration. There's no way I'm leaving this room without her. Sliding down until my head hits the pillow, I turn on my side. Instead of pulling her to me, I scoot closer to her. The fact that she doesn't push me away relaxes me just a little.

"You _know_ that is _not_ why I left," she says in an even tone.

"I know," I reply quietly. "I think it would've been easier to deal with if it was."

"Why?"

"You basically left because you didn't want to deal with the hassle of having me in your life." And that is undeniably true.

"Stop trying to make me feel bad!" she snaps.

I sigh. "I'm not." Honestly, I'm not, but if I'm to say what happened and why it actually happened, I can't help if it makes her feel bad.

"Just tell me what your problem is now. I don't want to focus on the past if we don't have to."

"You know how there are some things that happen, intentional or not, mutual or not, that scar you for life?" Her body tenses against me. "It creates certain reactions from you, forms fears, and just leaves a bad taste in your mouth?" She nods. "That is one of those things for me. You are the trigger for the pain, but also the bandage to help me heal. I know the why, I semi-supported it, understood it, and was willing to let it happen, but at the end of the day, you still left and it still hurt like hell."

Her voice is softer now, her body leaning into mine instead of pulling away. "And you're scared I'll leave again?"

"It freaks me out, yeah. There wasn't anything wrong with our relationship before, everything was perfect, and you still walked away. It could happen again." There. She knows my biggest fear now. It's not irrational in the least. If a person can walk away from a relationship when everything is going right, when there are no huge looming problems, when the obstacles can be conquered, then who's to say it can't happen again? Who's to say that person won't walk away when things get difficult? Or, when the relationship is fragile and all it needs is patience and love, that the person won't give up too soon?

Who's to say if Meredith can heal from her shoulder and has the opportunity to play tennis again that she won't choose her career over me again? She's always been adamant that she didn't want long distance. I don't know if she's changed her mind or not, so it's still a likely possibility in my mind.

She rolls over, bringing the puppy with her. "I'm not going to walk away twice, Noah. I'm not that stupid." She gives me a wry smile, making me smile in return. "You need to trust me."

"I'll work on it," I promise, and I will because I want her more than anything else in this world. My eyes fall to the wiggling puppy, who is trying to get comfortable. "So, impulsive decision?"

Meredith's eyes snap up to mine. "Doesn't mean anything."

I cup her cheek, letting my thumb caress her lips. "For you, it does."

"Are you okay with me having a puppy in your apartment?" she asks, sidestepping the issue. "I'm also in here because I didn't know if you'd want him in your bed."

"A little to late to ask now, don't you think?"

She laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."

We fall into silence. I wait for her to talk, but it soon becomes apparent that she isn't going to unprompted.

"Talk to me, Mere."

She strokes a finger over the puppy's head, keeping her eyes on him instead of me. "I have issues, Noah. Some I'm not ready to deal with." She flicks her gaze up to me.

Her not talking to me about something as important as what she's dealing with is not helping with my own issue of needing to trust her. "You can't shut me out forever, and you shouldn't want to."

"I don't," she weakly protests. I stare at her until she caves. "Okay, so I do want to, but only because things are so fucked up in my head, Noah. I feel like I should try to work out some of these things on my own. Not to mention, I still feel lost and this weekend was kind of stressful. Then you get all snappy at me on top of Vance apparently trying to get a hold of me. So, yeah. I saw a puppy and decided to adopt him. What's so bad about that?"

"Vance is trying to contact you?" That's the only thing I took away from what she said.

"I changed my number because of him. He called my parents' house, left a message, and I told Mom not to call back and give him my new number."

I hate myself before the words ever leave my mouth. "You don't think you should talk to him?"

Fury I've never seen before flashes in her eyes. "No. Leave it alone, Noah," she warns.

She's holding something back from me and I hate it. But tonight isn't the time to push. "What kind of dog is he? Is he a he?"

"Yes, and he's a three-month-old Schnauzer. They said his name is Boomer, but I think we need to come up with something else because I'm not calling him that."

I laugh. "We can think of new names in my bed."

"You're okay with him sleeping in your bed?"

"As long as you're in the bed and he's not in my way, I don't care."

She grins widely, kisses me, and then gets out of the bed to switch to mine. I follow her. "Did you freak out when I wasn't in your bed?"

"Yeah, but then I realized you wouldn't have left things like this. What are you thinking of naming this little guy?" She's cuddling him to her chest, lying on her side, and I reach around to rub his head.

"I was thinking Leo. Short and cute like he is."

"You know, I'm here, so you really don't have to cuddle with him."

She laughs. "Are you jealous?"

"That he's against your chest? Hell yeah, I am."

Meredith rolls over, settles him in the crook of her knees, and settles in next to me. "Miss me?" she asks with a grin.

"Always." I lean forward and finally get my kiss. I wish I could kiss her longer, but I pull away. "You sure you're okay, Mere?"

"I'm fine, Noah."

She isn't, but she's right. I need to trust her. Not only that she won't walk away again, but that she'll talk to me when she's ready.

That puppy is a pain in my ass.

First, I wake up this morning with full intentions of having sex with Meredith and what happens? Before I can slip a hand up her shirt, the puppy is jumping around and Meredith says he _has_ to go out now. Considering I didn't want him using the bathroom in the apartment, I couldn't stop her. The puppy cockblocked me. Once she comes back, I pull her into the bed and show her how much I love her and how sorry I am for being an ass.

I have the day off, so I head to the kitchen to fix us a stack of pancakes. Meredith sits at the table with Leo in her lap, rubbing the top of his head. I keep glancing at her because she seems unusually quiet and focused on that puppy.

"Mere," I say a bit strongly.

She lifts her head. "What?"

"What's bothering you?"

Meredith frowns and looks back down at Leo. I shift my focus back to the pancakes. "It's my first day without Gail. Erica pretty much ignored me last week. She can't do that now."

"It'll be fine," I reassure her. I don't think Erica would be unprofessional toward Meredith. I almost expected her to mention something about Vance, but I should've known better considering she avoids all talk of him. She nods, but still looks troubled. "You're a famous player, Meredith. You're good at the game and you know the game. She can't deny that. You'll get the hang of the job and then she'll have no reason to be bothered by you on a professional level. It'll be fine," I repeat before adding, "Anything else on your mind?"

"Actually," she places Leo on the floor and walks over to the fridge, "yes." My body absentmindedly tenses while I listen to her fix us drinks and grab the syrup while I finish plating the last of the pancakes. "Have you talked to your parents?"

I relax and set the plate on the table. "Not lately."

She falters in setting our glasses on the table. I grab plates and silverware before joining her, Leo trying to get comfortable at her feet. "As in not since I've been here?"

"Yeah," I confirm. "Why?"

"Do you think they'll be happy about us?"

Her question makes me pause. Meredith never cared about that before. I mean, she might wonder, but if they didn't, tough shit was her way of thinking. She didn't want her happiness to be dependent on someone else liking her. Even her weak protest over my tattoo and ratting me out to my mom was more for me than for my mom or to get my mom to like her more.

A surge of anger hits me hard. She's doubting it because of whatever went down with her and that prick. She's worried because of that. Otherwise, she would only be worried over what I thought and my happiness. I reach for her hand and tug gently. She stands and moves to sit in my lap, her arms automatically going around my shoulders.

"If I'm happy, they're happy." She opens her mouth, but I talk over her. "Dad will be ecstatic because he's always liked you. Mom and Ashley'll be fine once they're convinced I am happy. If they are upset, they'll get over it eventually, especially once they see it for themselves. You don't need to worry about that, Mere."

"Okay," she nods. I almost crack a smile because this is my woman. She was worried, but I've reassured her and she's satisfied. She won't worry about it anymore. Meredith reaches for her fork and starts eating from my plate.

"Hey," I begin, realizing I need to ask her about this weekend. "The whole team is getting together with the coaches for a BBQ before the season gets underway. I'm hoping to show off my girlfriend if she wants to go with me."

"I'll go with you. It'll be fun to meet more of your teammates."

"And the wives and girlfriends. They'll rope you in and make you family in no time." Leo starts jumping at my leg, wanting attention. I warily glance down at him. We didn't have pets growing up, so I'm unsure about having a dog. "What are you doing with him when you leave?"

"He'll hang out with you since you have the day off. If you have to leave, there's a crate. I need to get it out of the car. He's supposed to be fine in a crate, so he shouldn't whine or bark. I've been walking him on the other side of the building. You're okay with me having him, aren't you?"

I lift my gaze to her. "I don't mind. This is your home, too. You know that, right?"

"It's just an adjustment."

That's not an answer I like. "Whatever you need to do to make it feel like home, do it."

"I want to help pay the bills," she quickly interrupts.

"Fine. You get the light bill. Whatever you need, Mere, just do it," I repeat. I want this to feel like home to her. I know it'll take some time to adjust, but I don't want it to take too long. She belongs here with me and I want her to feel the same way. She kisses me softly. I smile when I feel some stickiness from the syrup on her lips.

"Thanks. I'll have a surprise for you once my clothes come. Mom's shipping them this morning and is overnighting them."

"A sexy surprise?"

She laughs. "No, but you'll appreciate it. What are you doing today?"

"Hanging out with Leo, I guess. I'll need to call the landlord. There's a pet fee and it'll be better that I call and tell him instead of one of the neighbors. And don't worry; you can write me a check to pay me back for it," I add before she can mention it, causing her to smile.

"I love you," she says.

"Then help me eat the rest of the pancakes, yeah?"

"Yeah," she agrees, taking a big bite.

If we were the same two people from before Meredith left, or before she met Vance, then I would be certain nothing could tear us apart. I would be sure that we'd make it this time because nothing should break us. But we're not the same people, and I know Meredith is harboring some part of her past, keeping it away from me and trying to keep it away from herself. We'll make it if only from sheer determination alone. What worries me is the havoc we'll have to deal with when she can't hide from her past any longer.

***

THE MOMENT I see Erica and her glare, I almost wish I had asked Noah how much she knows about us. She obviously learned of some of our past during the four months they were together. Vance never knew about Noah. He knew I had been in relationships before, but we never discussed specifics. I didn't tell anyone about Noah. What does that say about me? What does it say about Noah that he told some girl he's been dating for four months about me?

There's no time to think about it now. Part of me wants to say that I'm sorry, but what for? Noah said he was already planning to break up with her. If she blames me for him ending it, then that's not my fault because I'm not the reason. Still, I paste a smile on my face.

Erica tosses me a set of keys. "Get the courts set up," she snaps. "I want ball machines on courts two and three. When the girls get done going through their drills, you can work with Kira. I can handle everyone else."

I nod, briefly wondering if she's sticking me with Kira because she doesn't think anything will come of it. "Anything else?"

"Bring ice, drinks, and snacks for the game tomorrow. I'll have the cooler."

"Okay."

Her glare hardens and she makes a sweeping gesture. "You can go now."

I turn and leave for the shed near the courts where the equipment is stored. I set everything up exactly how she asked. There are two baskets of balls at the first court, and the machines are set up at the second and third. Erica has her bitch face on when she walks outside.

"Simple instructions. I gave you simple instructions. The machines should be on one and two, not two and three." I could've sworn she said two and three. "How hard is it to listen and put things where they belong?" she continues. "I know you don't have any coaching experience, but damn. And where is the box?"

"What box?" I ask since she's taking a breather.

"I told you to get the box out of the shed. It has all the stuff for drills."

She didn't mention a box, did she? She's staring at me like I'm the dumbest person to walk the face of the earth and I'm starting to feel stupid. Maybe she did tell me. "Sorry," I mumble, turning to get the box she asked for.

When I return, the girls are starting to arrive. Erica huffs as she holds out a clipboard. "You forgot this."

Shit. I did forget it in her office. I start marking the girls present. Erica runs them through their stretches, sends them running, and gets them started on a few drills. Some of them are relatively easy, like bouncing the ball on your racket while walking around. It's not easy to start with, but it helps ensure control of the ball. Tap it too hard or not in the right place on your racket and you'll lose control, sending the ball flying and causing you to reach and scramble for it.

Erica ends up having the girls take turns with the ball machine. I watch them for a few minutes before walking over to her.

"Can I use the other machine with Kira?"

"That's why it's there, Meredith."

"Oh, well, thanks. Kira," I call. "Court two." She walks over while I set up the machine to alternate where it shoots the ball, how frequently, and how fast. I start it and then walk to the side where Kira is.

"Am I just hitting them?"

"Yep. I'll watch and give you some pointers. We'll rally once you've warmed up."

Her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yep," I grin. I want to test out my shoulder and this will be a great way to do just that while also helping Kira improve. She's been doing a lot better now that she's playing with the correct hand, but she still has a ways to go.

"Have you ever heard the phrase, 'Hurry and wait?'" I ask.

"No," she frowns.

"It means once you know where the ball is headed, you hurry to get there, be in position, and then wait for it to come to you. You want to hurry and wait. You need to be quicker on your feet. Has she had you do any drills that focus on that?" Kira shakes her head. "Up to do a few? I'll do them with you."

"Okay."

I turn off the machine, grab an extra racket, and we go down to the last court away from everyone. I run through it once so she knows what we're doing. We run up the inside line to the next, run backwards, across, up the other line, back, and then across the serve line and repeat. I send her first and join in once she's going across the first line, so we're spaced out and won't run into each other. After ten of those, I set out rubber rings and a rope ladder. We go through them a few times before I decide to rally while we still have time.

It's not like we're about to have a battle. However, this is a test for me. I need to see how it feels with just this little bit of play. My physical therapist, Tina, decided to tell me this morning that it's highly unlikely I could ever play professionally again. According to her, she's been in her field for a long time and based on how long I've been in PT and how my shoulder is now, she doesn't see me returning. The hours are too long. The intensity is too much. What I would put my shoulder through would cause me pain and what strength I've built up is likely to diminish.

I can't accept that.

Not yet.

But by the third swing, I can feel it. There's a tightness that didn't used to be there. Five minutes is all it takes for a soreness and an ache to creep into the area. I ignore it. It's a blessing and a curse that practice starts dwindling fifteen minutes later. My shoulder hurts.

Fuck, this is bad.

I take a deep breath before walking over to Kira. "You're a fast learner, you know."

She gives me a half smile. "Thanks. It's been really good to tell my mom that I'm getting lessons from _the_ Meredith Quick."

I laugh. "Well, I'm just glad I can help someone as dedicated and hardworking as you are. C'mon. Let's join the group."

Erica ends up leaving me to put everything back in the shed, but I don't mind. I'd rather work alone than have her point out whatever I've done wrong again. Overall, today sucked and it gets worse when I get to my car and check my phone.

There's a message from my mom.

**Mom:** _Vance called again. Are you sure you want us to ignore him?_

**Me:** _Yes._

There's no doubt in my mind that Vance needs to stay as far away from me as possible. There's a small part of me that feels like I should talk to him, but then I remember our last day together. I remember the harshness in his tone, the words he said to me, and what he accused me of.

Fuck Vance.

He doesn't deserve the opportunity to talk to me.

Hearing this for the second time in such a short time period causes my hands to shake as I drive to Noah's apartment. To home, I mean. Dinner is on the table and little Leo runs over to me. I immediately pick him up and cradle him to my chest. I'm so happy I was impulsive and got him; his little body and cute personality bring me so much comfort. Noah rounds the corner from the hallway. One look at me and he's crossing the room. He hugs me to his chest without disturbing the puppy.

He kisses my temple. He doesn't say a word and I love him for it. When Leo starts getting restless, Noah steps away so I can place him on the floor.

"Let's eat," he says.

We wash our hands before sitting down at the table.

"Your clothes came today. We can get you settled after dinner if you're up for it."

I nod. "That sounds good."

"Work good?"

"Yeah." My voice lacks conviction. "How was it with Leo?"

"Fine. We napped and went for a few walks."

We talk about nothing in particular as we eat and we don't talk at all as I help him clean up. Noah, I've learned, is the kind of person who likes to clean up soon after he makes a mess. He doesn't like leaving dishes in the sink. He doesn't like leaving clothes on the floor for long. He's neater than I ever realized, and I wonder when this happened. He definitely wasn't like this in high school. His room was always a mess.

I have a sudden urge to ask him to recount every moment of his life since I left him. He grew into a man, grew into an adult, and changed in ways I hadn't considered. I want to know when it all happened and how it happened. I want to listen to his story of how he came to be who he is today.

Instead, we're unpacking my clothes. I can't believe this is happening. Slowly but surely, my clothes are filling half of Noah's closet and half of his dresser. Luckily, he has a rather large dresser and there's more room in there than I thought. I was worried there wouldn't be enough room.

"Mere?"

I lift my head from my current box to see him holding the three jerseys. There might as well be one big question mark for the expression on his face. I walk over to where I stored the package from last week and open the box. I pull out the fourth jersey of his current team. "I always bought one. It was the one thing I allowed myself from your life."

He drops his head to look at the jerseys in his hands. Then, he turns to plop down on the edge of the bed. I walk over and stand before him, worried by his silence. He lifts his gaze to mine. "I followed your career. I read every article about you. If I couldn't watch your matches, I followed the results. I probably know your career as well as you do." He holds up the jerseys. "This, it makes up for you not doing the same."

"Why?" I don't understand how it could do so when it means I know nothing about his career, except the teams he played on.

"Because you were still supporting me and cheering for me. You still cared. Did," he hesitates as if he's unsure of his question. "Did you ever wear them?" God, those brown eyes look so hopeful.

"Only when my parents said they were going to one of your games and if I was alone. I'd wear it and then sleep in it that night." It totally contradicts my reasoning for not wanting to follow his career because it hurt too much, but I couldn't help it. My parents would mention him and it would hit me hard how much I missed him; I took comfort where I could get it.

Noah tosses the jerseys to the side, including the one I was holding. He grabs my hips and yanks me forward to straddle him. He doesn't say a word. Instead, he strips me of my clothes to kiss every inch of my skin before burying himself inside me. If he reacts like this from simply hearing I wore his jerseys, then I can't wait for him to see me in his Rebels jersey.

The week passes by without further incident. Well, mostly. Erica still hates me and makes me feel like I've made a fool of myself at least once a day. I've rallied a few times with the girls; my shoulder has been sore and full of pain after each time. Right now, none of that matters. I'm about to meet Noah's entire team and their families. I feel like this is a test, one I don't know how to pass. Noah captures my attention when he lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles.

"I can hear you worrying from over here. Stop it. You don't have to impress anyone."

That doesn't really make me feel better, but I give him a smile anyway. We get out of the car and walk inside the large house. There is a ridiculous number of people here. We're greeted by a sweet woman who turns out to be the head coach's wife. After that, we run into Marc. He's standing with a few other players and presumably, their significant others.

"This is _the_ Meredith," Marc announces.

Their eyes widen. Had Noah not told anyone else he was with me again? Wait, do they _all_ know about me?

"Tattoo Meredith?" one of the women asks.

"Yep," Marc confirms.

Noah laughs and leans in to whisper in my ear, "They all thought you were a figment of my imagination."

"We have so many questions." The same woman who referred to me as Tattoo Meredith steps forward to take my hand and lead me away, the rest of the women following us. "I'm Sylvia. You are like an urban legend or something." We're basically huddled in the corner of the room. "Tell us everything," she demands.

"Um." What does she mean _everything_?

"Relax," another woman says. "I'm Theresa. Sylvia is just excited about fresh blood. You don't have to tell us anything."

"But we're dying to know!" Sylvia adds.

"Um, okay. We met in high school, but broke up before going our separate ways for our careers."

"But why?"

"For our careers," I repeat.

"So, what do you do? How did you wind up with Noah again?"

"I play tennis professionally, but currently, I'm an assistant coach at a local high school while I rehab my injury. I came here to be with him." That will hopefully be enough because I don't want to say more than that.

Thankfully, Noah comes to rescue me as Sylvia is preparing to ask yet another invasive question. "Sorry, ladies. I need my woman for a second."

I give them a fake apologetic smile as he leads me away. "Thank you," I whisper.

"You're welcome. You'll eventually learn how to hold your own with them. Sylvia, in particular, is extremely nosy. I'll introduce you to more of the guys."

"Wait," I grab his arm to stop him. "What do you mean I'll learn how? How often will I be around them?"

Noah shrugs. "Depends, I guess. We're a team. We're a family. That goes from the players to their individual families. If someone needs help, we all try to chip in. Some of the women like to get involved with the charities and community work the players do. When you go to games, you can sit in the box with the families. I'm with these guys from September to April at the very least. The women like to bond and now you're a player's girlfriend. It sort of comes with the territory."

I nod, Noah grins, and he finishes leading me to the kitchen. Of course most of the guys are in here, devouring the finger foods set out.

"Meredith!" Marc shouts dramatically from across the room like I'm some long-lost friend. He comes over, gives me a bear hug, and even twirls me around.

I can't help but laugh. "You just saw me a few minutes ago," I remind him.

He smacks a loud kiss on my cheek and grins. "I know, but I didn't greet you properly."

"Keep your mouth off my girlfriend," Noah growls, playfully shoving Marc away from me.

"Give him a break, Rams. Marco probably hasn't put that mouth on a woman in months," one guy says, causing others to laugh.

Only, I frown in confusion. "Marco?"

Marc groans. "My last name's Polinski, which is apparently close enough to Polo. Marco Polo. That was the nickname I was graced with."

I bust out laughing.

"If you start calling me that, I'm cutting you off from my amazing personality," he warns, causing me to giggle some more.

"I swear I'll only call you by your name," I promise. I don't know if I would say Marc has an amazing personality, but I like him. Aside from Noah, he's the next person I feel most comfortable with here. He has this calming quality about him. Conversation goes on a tangent, and I just listen and laugh as the guys rib each other with their jokes.

I observe as well. Gruff-voiced Brayden Hayes is mostly quiet, but the guys all listen when he speaks. Scott Boyd, Sylvia's husband, obviously adores his wife, always giving her a quick kiss to her temple when she's close enough. The guys call him Scotty. They have five-year-old twin girls; one is as shy as she can be, sticking by her father, while the other is outgoing, playing with the other children, like Ainsley, Liam Irving's daughter. Those people stand out to me for some reason. Well, them and Marc, who tries his hardest to make the shy twin laugh.

There's definitely a sense of camaraderie, even though a few of them keep to themselves. Maybe being included into Noah's second family of teammates will be better than I thought it would be.

I rush home after work to shower and change into jeans, a cami, and my jersey. My stomach is a bundle of nerves, and I dumbly wonder if Noah has pregame jitters. Though, it is the first game of the season, so maybe he does. This is my first time seeing him play as a pro. Why am I so nervous? I may speed a little on my way to the arena and I rush to my seat.

I'm a little late, but they're still in warmups. There seems to be a decent crowd here so far, but empty seats are easy to spot. I'll have to ask Noah about the hockey fanbase here. Noah and Marc, I notice, aren't wearing their helmets, their hair flying in the wind as they skate around, laughing. I'm surprised when Marc notices me first from my seat behind the goalie's net. I know this because a puck hits the glass right in front of me, making me and the fans on either side of me jump, but there Marc is grinning like a goofball.

My glare isn't enough, so I quickly flip him off. He winks and skates over. Marc removes his glove and crooks his finger for me to move my face closer to the glass. He acts as if he's kissing my cheek and I roll my eyes. He doesn't see Noah come up behind him to give him a shove. The grin on Noah's face is all for me. I turn in a circle so he can see me in his jersey.

"I love you," he says.

I grin. "Love you too. Now, go play."

Warmups are officially over so he skates away and off the ice. The girls on either side of me seem to be dumbstruck for about two minutes before they ask me if I'm dating _the_ Noah Ramsey. The smile can't be wiped off my face as I answer with a simple yes.

Puck drops before I know it. Noah is way faster than I remember. I love watching him rush from one end of the ice to the other. Hearing the sounds of him ramming someone into the boards or vice versa? Not so fun to watch. I loved watching Vance play because you could see the strength in his body, but that's nothing compared to watching Noah. I'm starting to think his nickname of Rams has more to do with his play than his last name.

Is it odd to say it's a turn-on? Who cares at this point?

The crowd is loud and roaring every chance they get when the Rebels are up one to nothing, but things quieten drastically when the opposing team ties it up. Some, myself included, still cheer, but it's when prompted by the screens above us. Then, I don't know what happens, but there seems to be a shift in momentum and the crowd picks up on it. A nearly deafening "Let's go Rebels" chant followed by two claps and three fast ones break out.

Following the game would be a little easier if I knew the players better than I do. Right now, I only know Noah is number twenty-four and Marc is nineteen. It doesn't help that my eyes are on Noah every time he jumps onto the ice.

The puck lands on his stick and he doesn't hesitate to shoot. There's two minutes left in regulation. I hold my breath until the horn sounds, sending the crowd to their feet. My voice goes hoarse from screaming and cheering.

I was never a hockey fan until I met Noah. When we broke up, I didn't watch any games. I only bought and wore a few of his jerseys every now and then. I tried watching a game once, one of the teams Noah wasn't associated with. For a long time, I thought it was odd that I felt nothing watching the game, that it didn't excite me like it once did. But now, I realize why.

Noah wasn't playing.

Sure, I like hockey, but the reason I loved it was because I loved watching Noah play and be in his element. After tonight, I know I'll be here for as many games as I can make it to. I want to support him and fall back in love with the game.

Before I head home, I send a quick text to him.

**Me:** _Good job getting the game-winning goal! I'll be ready to celebrate when you get home._

As soon as I hit send, my phone lights up with an incoming call. My lungs freeze and my hands begin to tremble as I recognize Vance's number.

***

COMING HOME TO my apartment has become my new favorite thing because the love of my life is in there waiting for me. It's the most exciting part of my day, even after the fun and excitement of the first game of the season. I want to celebrate with Mere since the team will be leaving tomorrow afternoon for an away game Saturday.

My keys clink as I stick the correct one into the deadbolt and turn it before moving on to the doorknob. Darkness greets me. Maybe she's in our room, still wearing my jersey. I close and lock the door, set my keys on the end table by the couch, and walk down the hallway to my bedroom. I'm already hard with anticipation of what may be waiting for me on the other side of the closed door.

It creaks as I push it open. She's curled in a ball on top of the covers with Leo cuddled to her chest. She's still wearing my jersey, but sex is pushed down a notch on my to-do list when she sniffles and glances over at me. What the fuck happened between when she texted me and now?

I toe out of my shoes and climb on behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. "What's wrong?" I whisper.

"Sorry, Noah. I was hoping I'd be over it by now." She rolls to face me, Leo settling in and falling right back to sleep.

"Over what?" Damn, I'm tired of seeing those green eyes watery to the point that tears are falling down her face.

"One of my stupid old friends gave Vance my new cell number, so he called me. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want him back in my life in any way. Why can't he just take the hint and leave me the hell alone?"

"So answer the phone and tell him off," I suggest, but she shakes her head.

"I don't want to talk to him, Noah," she stresses again.

I'm at a loss. If he wants to get up with her that badly for whatever fucking reason, he's going to keep calling. "Did he leave a voicemail?"

She nods, another tear falling. "I don't need to call him back. He doesn't deserve it."

"Then don't."

I run my fingers down her arm as my thoughts deviate from the topic of conversation to the feel of the coarse cloth of the jersey.

"Sorry for ruining the celebration," Meredith says. "I fell back in love with hockey tonight. You were great out there."

A shit-eating grin appears. "You're just saying that because you love me, so how amazing I am is amplified."

She laughs. "You sound like Marc."

I slip my hand underneath the jersey, disappointed when I feel another shirt, but I don't let it stop me from tickling her side. Her knees pull in and Leo, annoyed that he can't sleep in peace, crawls up our pillows and around to behind my back. She's giggling as she tries to push my hand away.

"You can't tell me in our bed that I sound like my teammate."

"Sorry!" she squeals.

I stop tickling her, but some of her laughter persists.

"I love you," she says in this airy, breathy voice with a dreamy like smile. Her mind isn't on her troubles anymore.

"I," kiss, "love," kiss, "you," kiss, "too." My hand roams further up her chest.

"Can we talk about something before you stop thinking like a normal human being and strip us naked?" she asks as I push her on her back and start unbuttoning her jeans.

"What?" I don't pause with what I'm doing.

"What's your schedule like next week?"

Now, I do pause because I have to think about my days and dates. "I leave next Friday for two weeks. They send us out on a bunch of road games because of the state fair."

"For two weeks?"

Something in her tone causes me to look up at her. It almost reminds me of my nervousness over her leaving. Is it possible that she has some sort of fear when I leave? I crawl up her body, resting my elbows on either side of her face and place my forehead against hers. "Yeah, and I'm going to miss the hell out of you. Leo will be here to keep you company, but I'll be calling, videochatting, and texting."

"Promise?"

"Promise to contact you as much as I did when you went to Pittsburgh."

She laughs. "That'll work."

Leo, the bastard, has come around to try crawling between us, wiggling his little body with a purpose. The first hand he finds, he starts nudging it with his nose.

"He probably needs to go out and you're still dressed," Mere says in a sweet voice.

I warily eye them both. Technically, this is her dog. He is kinda cute, and if someone has to leave this bed and walk him, I'd rather it be me than her. "Be naked when I get back," I order her.

She grins. "Was already planning on it."

I walk into the living room in my suit with my duffel bag hanging off my shoulder. Marc is handing Meredith's phone back to her. I wonder what he's doing with it to start with, but I don't ask. Mere throws her arms around me the second I'm close enough.

"You look hot," she whispers. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

"I'm feeling left out over here," Marc adds, causing us to laugh.

"I'll miss you too," Meredith assures him as she lets me go and turns to him. "I'll fix you guys dinner when you come back."

"You don't need to do that, Mere. We'll be busy doing other things Marc doesn't need to be here for." This is a short trip, only for one game, and we'll need to prepare for when I'm gone for that two weeks. Marc can go home and have fun with his hand.

Meredith ignores me. "Anything you don't like?" she asks him.

"I'm not picky. Thanks, Mere."

We both lose our smiles at that.

"Uh, _Meredith_ ," he corrects with a roll of his eyes. "You ready, Rams?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you down there." I pull Meredith against me, already ignoring him. How is this my life? With Meredith back, living with me, giving me someone to kiss goodbye and come home to. I'm mesmerized by her smile and the spark in her eyes once again.

Marc has to go and ruin my moment by speaking. "What if I want to say goodbye to her too?"

"Then say it and get out."

"Bye, Meredith," he says, and I'd bet he has a stupid grin on his face.

"Bye, Marc," she replies without looking away from me. Her fingers are digging into my waist, and I wish we had time for a quickie. As soon as she hears the soft click of the door closing, she lifts onto her toes and presses a kiss to my mouth. Her tongue sweeps into my mouth immediately. I've always known I was meant to kiss Meredith for the rest of my life.

But this feels like a goodbye kiss, full of desperation and a hint of sadness, and we are _not_ saying goodbye.

"I'm coming back," I mumble against her lips.

"I know." She gives me another kiss. "Go on and leave, so you can come back." _Before you leave me again_. Those are her unspoken words.

Yeah, I definitely think I'm not the only one with issues regarding one of us leaving.

"I love you," I remind her.

"I love you, too." She smiles.

"I'll let you know when we land."

She nods, so I give her one last kiss before leaving. When I climb into Marc's truck, he seems uncomfortable. The same look that was on his face when I saw him handing her phone back and he knew I caught it.

"So," he starts. "I feel like I should tell you something."

I tense, but say, "You mean what you and Meredith were doing before I came out of the bedroom."

"Yeah."

When he doesn't add more, I drawl, "Well?"

"Someone called her phone. She panicked, shoved it at me, and told me to answer. Say that they had the wrong number. I did it for her."

"Oh." Part of me wants to say this is good. Vance won't be calling and putting tears in her eyes without even speaking to her. Part of me says this is bad. I can't even believe I'm thinking it, but maybe she needs to talk to him. Not talking hasn't helped her so far. Don't get me wrong. I would like to get that prick out of her mind once and for all, but he's connected to whatever she's hiding from me and her family, and I don't want her to keep secrets.

"I don't feel right about it," Marc says, dragging me out of my thoughts. "The guy sounded like he really needed to talk to her. He was almost desperate-like."

"It's her ex," I tell him. "She's bound and determined not to speak to him."

"Do you think that's the right call?"

"Wish I knew."

Being on the road isn't so bad. I talked to Meredith as often as I told her I would. We are one and one so far this season, having lost yesterday's game. It was a tough loss. There are times when you mostly do everything you can, play the best you can, and make almost all the right plays, but a few bad calls, bad passes, and bad decisions add up. They end up being crucial in a close game. That's how we lost.

There were long periods of time where no one scored, at least they seemed long. Then, there would be a flurry where either we scored or the other team would score and within two minutes the opposite team would tally a goal.

The true sign of us not doing as well as expected was the expression on Coach Mike's face. Those bushy eyebrows of his were nearly one, they were pinched so close together. His pale thin lips were flattened, and he wasn't happy with our performance. Even now, I can hear him highlighting what we did right, immediately following it what we did wrong and how we can improve for the next game, and then wrapping up his speech with, "There's a reason a season is comprised of a series of games instead of only a handful. Let's regroup and be better next time."

I plan to regroup with Meredith as soon as I can get rid of Marc. We're on our way back to my apartment now.

"Do you think she really cooked us dinner?"

"Probably. She hasn't responded to my texts." This is the first time she's cooked for me. I wonder if she's a good cook. Hope so, since I know we're both hungry.

"Gotta say, I like you having a nice girlfriend."

"What? None of my other girlfriends were nice?" I ask with confusion.

"Not to me. Why wasn't that a deal-breaker, by the way? Shouldn't the girlfriend being not nice to the best friend be a deal-breaker?"

I laugh. "Don't think so. Hell, Meredith wouldn't even care if my parents liked her or not as long as we were happy." Well, the old Meredith didn't care. This one does a little bit. Marc parks and we get out to walk toward the elevator.

"Well, I'm just glad she likes me. You wouldn't mind sharing her, would you? We both could totally date her. I could get used to not having to cook for myself."

I throw my empty water bottle at him, hitting him in the head. That should be answer enough.

"I was kidding!" he laughs, rubbing his head as I press the button for my floor.

"Sometimes, you joke too fucking much, Marco. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Anyone ever tell you that laughter is the best medicine?"

"I didn't laugh," I point out.

He grins. "No, but I did."

That actually does make me laugh. The doors open to my floor and seconds later, we're walking into my apartment. It smells so fucking good in here.

"Mere," I call out when I don't see her, only Leo who is running toward me. I pick up the little dog and rub his head.

"Hey," she grins when she comes from the hallway.

"What'd you cook?" Marc asks.

"Something good," she answers. Meredith gives me a quick kiss. "Hey."

"You already said that."

"You haven't said it back."

"Hey."

"That's better. Hungry?" She glances between Marc and me.

"Starving," Marc answers, already walking to the kitchen. "I knew I smelled pasta," I hear him say.

Meredith follows Marc, and so do I once I set Leo on the floor. We all comfortably move around my kitchen, washing our hands, fixing drinks, and loading our bowls full of the pasta she made. We're just about to sit down when there's a knock on my door. We all freeze.

"You two go ahead and start eating. I'll get it," Meredith says. She's walking to the door before I can stop her.

I hear an _oomph_ and then, "Oh, I'm so happy to see you!" That makes me stand and I hesitantly call out, "Dad?" Sure enough, my parents are standing in the doorway. Dad is hugging the daylights out of Meredith while Mom looks less than thrilled. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We talked to Hope and Harold, found out from them that you two are back together, and I took that as the cue to come see it for myself!" Dad answers. "We've missed you a lot," he tells her. "I wanted to catch up in person."

I wasn't lying when I said my dad loved Meredith. If he could adopt her, he would. He's the one who told me I needed to go to one of Ashley's games to watch "this girl who is phenomenal." I don't think I ever told her that, come to think of it. He noticed how good she was and told me I needed to see how she played. Meredith was intense and aggressive when she played. I fell in love with her the second I saw her smile to herself after winning a match.

Dad leads Meredith toward the living room, but when he sees Marc, he moves them into the kitchen instead.

"Not happy?" I quietly ask my mom.

"Simply cautious and wary."

"Couldn't have given us a heads-up?" I ask as we hug.

"You know your father."

Yeah. He loves surprises. This isn't the first time he's driven down without a warning. I don't mind because his timing is almost always good.

"Well, we might as well join them. Meredith cooked dinner and there's plenty to go around."

"Oh, look at this little guy!" Dad exclaims when he sees Leo.

"He was named Boomer, but I changed it to Leo," Meredith tells him.

Mom and I sit at the table since Dad already fixed her a bowl.

"Hey, Carol," Marc says to her.

She tells him hello and I swear she blushes. If my mom was younger and wasn't married to my dad, she'd probably want to date Marc. Apparently, she likes what she sees with his blond hair and blue eyes. I internally vomit.

Conversation over dinner is mostly about the bickering my parents did on the ride down here. For some reason, they would rather drive the eight or nine hours than fly. Marc makes his exit after dinner. I find myself alone with my mom because Dad joins Meredith when she goes to walk Leo. Something tells me they won't be back any time soon. Mom helps me put away leftovers and wash the dishes.

"Why didn't you tell us yourself?"

"Things have been busy," I answer.

She makes a noise since she doesn't believe me. "So, she shows up in North Carolina out of the blue, you move her in here with you, start dating again, and don't feel the need to share that with your family?"

"Don't say it like that. We've been catching up."

"Hope says she hasn't talked about her former engagement or injury at all. Is she doing that with you?"

"Somewhat." Meredith hasn't mentioned her PT at all, and I haven't asked her about it.

Mom is quiet for a moment. "Do you really think you two can make this work? Do you really think she won't leave you again? I'm not going to be able to listen to my baby boy whine over her again. I'm worried that she's only here because she has no other options. She lost her fiancé and practically her career, so she's returning to the last good thing she had."

"Maybe she realized her mistake and is correcting it. She's happy; I'm happy. She's not going anywhere."

"How are you sure?"

Her question stumps me. "I'm not," I eventually say. "But I love her. I believe what she tells me, and we're both determined to make this work."

"Well, she has her work cut out for her to get back onto my good side. Your father is so in love with her, he's obviously not having any problems. You've both been enamored with her in your own ways since you first saw her. I don't think I'll ever understand that."

"Oh, come on, Mom. You're being too hard on her. You used to like her. You definitely like her parents. Cut her some slack."

"I will once I see she deserves it." She rinses the last dish and adds, "I'm going to lie down until your father brings our bags in. It was a long drive."

She leaves me alone and I realize it may be harder to get Mom's, and probably Ashley's, approval than I thought. Honestly, I don't care about that. Sure, it bugs me a little, but no one knows our relationship better than us. I know we're going to last. Mom and Ashley will come around once they see that for themselves.

I grab my abandoned duffel bag, carry it to my room, and unpack before changing my clothes into something more comfortable. Meredith and Dad are walking in when I make it into the living room. Dad has their bags in hands.

"Mom's lying down," I tell him.

"I think I'll join her. We'll see you in the morning." He gives me a nod before leaving us for the guest bedroom.

I sit on the couch and Meredith sits next to me, her legs coming to rest in my lap.

"I love your dad," she says, resting her head on my shoulder. Leo crawls out of her arms and over to me.

"So, you guys had a good talk?" I ask while rubbing a knuckle under his chin.

"Yeah. Let me guess; your mom isn't happy about us."

"She'll come around. I don't want you to worry about it."

"I won't," she replies confidently. "Besides, your dad has enough enthusiasm for everyone. He said they were staying until Thursday. They'll leave and then you'll be gone for two weeks." She sighs. "That's the worst time for you to leave," she whispers.

"Why?" Is something happening that I missed?

Mere briefly tenses. "I mean because we just got back together and we won't be able to spend a lot of time together."

"We have the rest of our lives to spend time together."

***

ALL OF A sudden, it hits me.

It's October.

So much stuff should be happening this month, and yet none of it is.

I want to tell Noah. I need to tell him, but the thought of discussing it and reliving all the pain takes my breath away. Noah keeps telling me that we're in this for the long haul. That now that he has me, he's never letting me go. I can't escape the past. I need to figure out how I'm going to tell him about the worst month of my life.

"Mmm," Noah hums from behind me as he places a soft kiss on my shoulder. "I love waking up with you."

I roll over to face him. "What does our future look like?" I blurt out. Most of my conversation with his dad last night was a back and forth between catching up from the source itself since he knew about my life thanks to my parents and telling me how happy he was Noah and I were together again. He kept talking about our future. How he always knew we'd get married and give him plenty of grandkids. How he knew we'd find our way back to one another and how bright our future looked. But I can't think of our future because I keep seeing the past.

And that breaks my heart.

Noah blinks the sleepiness out of his eyes. "What does our future look like?" he repeats, and I nod my head. He leans his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes while he thinks. "Do you want my timeline or one you're probably more comfortable with?"

"Yours."

"Well," he begins, running his hand up and down my side. "If it was up to me, we'd get married the first chance we get next summer. We'll honeymoon wherever you want and buy a house. Then we'll have a year or two to ourselves if we can stick to the plan before," his hand moves to my stomach as tears form in my eyes before he has a chance to say what I know is coming, "I put a baby in you. Our future looks like us being together and happy. It's me loving you for the rest of my life, just like I've been doing since I met you. That sounds good, yeah?"

"Yeah," I whisper.

Noah grins and kisses me. "Should I accept that also as a yes, you'll marry me?"

I laugh. "No, you shouldn't, because I don't remember being asked." It's surprising that I don't feel any nerves over knowing that one day he's going to ask me. There's only an excited jitter in my stomach.

"Man, I was hoping you'd let that slide," he jokes.

"Not a chance. Something tells me you've been dying to get down on one knee and ask me that particular question, and I'm not going to be the one to take that opportunity from you."

That smile of his seems to grow.

"Not to mention, you can't propose without a ring."

"Sounds like I can propose, then."

I stare at him. "What?" There's no way he has a ring. He wouldn't have bought one already. Right?

Noah throws the sheets aside and gets out of bed. He goes to the closet and starts moving stuff around on the top shelf. Finally, he returns with a shoe box. He sits on the edge of the bed, near me, and hands it to me. "Open it."

I look down at the old, worn box and realize I'm scared to open it. It's too big to hide a ring and I could hear stuff sliding around in there when he pulled it off the shelf. My hesitation causes Noah to reach over and remove the lid. Inside, there's a ring box, tons of pictures, and even a few tickets from our movie dates. I can't believe my eyes.

Somehow, my hands go to the pictures instead of the ring box. God, we were so happy. Most of the photos are the same, us with our heads together, grinning like it's the best day of our lives or smooching for the photo. Some are of us with friends, a few from graduation, and one I've never seen before. It's on the campus of the university Noah attended. He's hugging me and it's obvious that his grip is tight. That was an emotional day for us both.

After I've flipped through the photos twice, I set them down and grab the box. Gulping, I open it to find a modest engagement ring. It's a simple gold band with a single diamond resting on top. My eyes squeeze closed, tears leak out, and I feel Noah's thumbs wiping them away. I open my eyes to look at him.

"I spent my entire savings on that," he says. "Remember when I was late to pick you up to get my tattoo on my eighteenth birthday?" I nod. "I was buying that. Ironically enough, the day I was going to ask you was the day you told me you wanted to break up."

"God, Noah, I'm so sorry."

He shrugs. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. You were going to ask me to marry you and I broke up with you when I shouldn't have," I cry.

"Don't say that!" he suddenly shouts and stands. "You can't regret it or say you shouldn't have done it. I don't want to think all of the time apart was a waste. I didn't show you to upset you." He snatches the shoe box and the ring box away from me. "I don't know why I fucking showed you at all."

I scramble after him, grabbing his arm before he can put the box back on the shelf. "Noah, wait. I'm sorry. Trust me, the last thing I want to do is say that what I've been through and what you've been through was for nothing. I just can't believe you were going to ask me."

He scoffs. "Like it's so hard to imagine I'd want to marry you?"

"That you were going to ask at eighteen, yeah. People just don't do that." Noah still seems disgruntled, so I ask, "Can I make a request?"

"For what?" His voice is gruff as he tries to hide his curiosity.

"If you ever ask—"

"When I ask," he corrects.

"When you ask, ask with that ring."

He frowns. "What? No. I can do better than that, and you deserve better."

I shake my head. "I want that one."

"But why?" he asks, genuinely confused.

I take the box from him, retrieve the ring box, and set the shoe box back onto the shelf before facing him. "Because I love you just as much now as I did then, if not more. I especially loved what you did on your eighteenth birthday." I trace my name over his chest. "There is nothing I'd love more than to think about our history when I eventually wear it."

Noah thinks about it for a moment. "People are going to think I'm cheap when they see you wear it."

"I don't care. We'll both know differently, and we're the only ones who matter."

"It's really what you want?"

"Yes."

He nods. "Okay."

I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

We shower and get ready before eating breakfast with his parents. More than ever, I'm certain that I need to tell him what happened. Who knows when he'll decide to propose, but I can't let him do that until my past no longer haunts me.

Noah's mom is civil toward me. I wish I could say friendly, but I know there are reservations about me underneath all of her statements, so civil seems more fitting. She'll come around. Carol loves Noah too much to hold onto a grudge against me for too long because at a certain point, it could start affecting their relationship. She wouldn't let it get that far.

I wish I could say the same for Erica. I've realized that I'm not forgetting things; she leaves things out or says the wrong things on purpose, so she has a reason to essentially call me a dumbass. I've learned the routine by now, though. I'm able to have everything out, even things she may not use, just to save myself from hearing her bitch about how she told me to get it out when she probably didn't. The only thing I love about my job is working with the girls. Kira, mostly.

"If you keep this up," I tell her, "you might be able to play in a game in a few weeks." Practice officially ended two hours ago, but Kira and Ginny stayed to rally with me and get pointers. Ginny isn't on the team, though she should be. She's Kira's best friend, a good tennis player, too, but she refuses to be on a team with Carrie, one of the girls who has a mean streak in her.

I should be heading home to get ready for Noah's game, but I can't leave until they're ready, not when they're both trying to improve their skills.

"Really?" Kira asks with surprise, which causes her to miss the shot I just returned. "Do you think Coach Erica would actually let me?"

"If you have the skills, I don't see why not."

"What is her issue with you anyway?" Ginny asks, jogging up to the net to be closer.

"What are you talking about?" I feign obliviousness.

"Oh, come on," Kira says. "Everyone sees how short she is with you."

I hesitate. "I don't think that's something we should discuss."

"Word is you stole her boyfriend," Ginny pushes the issue.

Gah. I knew there was a reason I hated high school. "Who said that?"

"We overheard Coach Erica telling another teacher when we passed by her office one morning," Kira sheepishly explains.

"Well, that isn't what happened." Good thing I don't teach, or having rumors circulating about me could be worse to deal with.

"It's interesting that you and Noah Ramsey are both from Pittsburgh and went to the same high school."

Kira quickly looks at Ginny. "You didn't tell me that!"

She shrugs. "Just looked it up while I was waiting for practice to be over."

"Okay, okay. Enough about this. Are you guys going to play or should I pack up and go home?"

"Have a hockey game to get to, by chance?" Ginny smirks.

I look at Kira. "I'm glad she's not on the team. She talks too much."

The girls laugh and return to their places to continue to play for twenty more minutes before relieving me to go home, joking about how they didn't want to make me any later to the hockey game than I'm already going to be. Unfortunately, I forgot to put my jersey in the car. I do have some over-the-counter pain relievers, though, and I take a few of those for my shoulder. We played longer than I should have.

I drive straight to the arena since the puck should've dropped at some point in the last twenty minutes. Once I'm there, I park in the reserved section for the players' families. Noah's parents, Carol and William, should already be here.

A few minutes later, I open the door to the box, which seems full. Sylvia, the nosy and kind of pushy one from the BBQ, notices me first.

"Oh! Meredith is here! We were wondering when you would join us." She loops an arm through mine and walks me over to where Noah's parents and a few other women are. I'm reintroduced to some of the wives and kids and do my best to remember their faces and names for future use.

"How are you settling in?" Sylvia asks.

"Pretty well. Where are the girls?"

"Scott's parents are watching them tonight. We should get together for lunch sometime. Theresa is my closest friend, so we usually try to go out to eat about once a week or so, but that can be tough to manage when the guys are gone. She has two busy teenagers, who aren't old enough to drive yet, so she has to cart them off everywhere and get everything done during the day before she does."

"Everyone seems pretty close," I comment.

"Most of us are. There's always bad apples." She leans in and points to a woman who is married to Bradley Potter, one of our wingers. "She likes to stir shit up if she learns of any drama. I'm nosy, but I don't spread the news. I only like knowing it. I think it's just because Bradley is so boring, she needs some kind of excitement in her life."

I zone out as she rattles on about a few of the other ladies and their husbands. Shouldn't I be watching the game? But then I perk up at the mention of Marc.

"I was thinking of setting him up with one of my friends."

"Really? Do you think he'd go for it?"

She scoffs. "I'll have to convince her more than him." My mouth parts to ask questions, but she waves me off. "Today is not the day to get into it. I just think he would be a good guy for her. I'll have to bide my time and play my cards carefully if I want her to give it a shot. I'm hoping the whole opposites-attract thing holds true if it ever happens."

The opposite of Marc doesn't sound too good, and I'm not sure if he would be attracted to someone who wasn't as funny, happy go-lucky, and carefree as he is. Then again, I don't know how opposite the girl is compared to him either. Sylvia gets distracted by another woman, so I move to the empty seat next to Carol and William.

The second period is about to start and the Rebels are leading two to one.

"How come you were late?" Carol asks.

"I was helping two girls who wanted to stay after practice."

William leans forward to look at me. "What's it like working with Noah's ex?"

I shrug. "Could be worse."

"But could also be better?"

I nod. Not wanting to discuss it for the second time today, I ask if they have any pictures of Ashley's baby, Nicholas. Smiles break out on both of their faces as they pull out their phones to show me images. This is the only time Carol seems truly genuine with me. Seeing the precious baby boy does all sorts of things to me. But it isn't until I see a photo of Noah holding the baby, presumably taken the day before I ran into him at the airport, do I struggle to hold back tears.

Noah is grinning and acting as if he and the baby are fist bumping. In actuality, the baby is crying and his little hand is curled into a fist as his arm stretched out.

"He's a testy little thing," Carol says, oblivious to my struggle not to have a meltdown. "He definitely gets that from Ashley. Doesn't take much to make him cranky or pissed off. Ashley was the same way as a baby. Noah wasn't quite so bad. It was easier to soothe him when he made a fuss and he liked to giggle where Ashley looked at you like you were a big dummy. It'll be interesting to see what kind of personality Noah's babies ends up with."

"We want plenty of grandkids, in case you were wondering," William adds. "We'd definitely visit more often."

I give him a weak smile. "I don't think we're close to that point yet."

He tenderly smiles. "You'll get there."

I return Carol's phone to her and focus on the game. Marc makes a pass to number thirteen. I've studied the roster in hopes of remembering names and numbers. That one belongs to their captain, Brayden Hayes. He's a little taller than Noah, I think, but he seems to dominate the ice as he weaves his way through players and sends a shot to the goalie. The puck seems to bounce off Noah's leg and changes directions. There's a scramble in front of the net before cheers are booming in the arena as the puck slips past the goalie and slides across the line.

Although I missed who was responsible, the goal is credited to EJ Bertuzzi. The crowd is awake and very much alive after that, cheering on their team to a four-to-one win. Carol and William head on back to Noah's apartment with my key. I, however, was told to stay put. Players slowly start to appear to meet the family members who stayed behind to wait for them.

Noah appears alone, and two thoughts occur to me. It's kind of odd to see him without Marc, and why is Noah frowning?

"Where's my jersey?" he asks once he's close enough. He smells clean and his hair is still sopping wet, droplets of water falling onto his shoulders. My hand lifts as my fingers weave through his wet hair.

"You couldn't dry your hair even a little?" I counter.

"I wanted to see my girlfriend, who I thought was wearing my jersey," he replies.

"I thought I'd have time to go home, but some girls kept me late at practice and I had to come straight here."

"You're forgiven, but never again."

I roll my eyes. Surprisingly, to me at least, no one else in the box was wearing a jersey, so I would've stuck out if I did. Noah wraps an arm around my waist and begins to lead me out. "Why'd you want me to stay behind?" I ask, curiously.

"Just wanted to see you sooner." He pulls me closer to his side and I can't help but grin.

***

IT'S NOT AS easy to communicate with Meredith as I thought it would be. We keep missing each other when I call and hours can pass between texting due to the time difference and our schedules. It's been a week since I've been gone with a week left to go, having won two of the three games we've played. Some of them, we probably shouldn't have won, but Liam Irving, our goalie, stood on his head and pulled us through with the W.

Tonight, we're playing the Portland Vikings. There really isn't any team I like or dislike to play against; I just like to _play_. Sure, there are some teams you aren't exactly thrilled to be playing, but I'm happy as long as I get to lace up and skate out onto the ice.

So far, we're doing well. Third period, we're up three to nothing. If we manage to keep the puck out of our net, it'll be Liam's first shutout of the season. We definitely want to give that to him. I'm positioned near the net, hoping to help Liam out and block the shots that are surely coming, thanks to Brayden, or Captain Hook, going and earning himself a hooking penalty to put the Vikings on a power play.

All they've done so far is pass the puck to one another. At some point, they're going to take a shot. A few fans in the crowd are taking turns shouting, "SHOOT!" If I wasn't focused, I'd roll my eyes. Instead, my gaze follows the puck as it returns to the guy a few feet away. He lifts his stick for the swing seconds before it reaches him. He's hoping it'll get past me and then past my goalie. The puck hits my leg and goes to the left of me, away from the net where not a Viking stands at the moment. That's all the opportunity I need to send it to Scotty, who takes off like a rocket to the other end of the ice.

He scores and we're up four to zero.

The rest of the game is spent doing our best to control our zone. No more goals are scored and Liam gets his shutout. Upbeat music is playing in the locker room as we come in and start shedding gear.

Coach Mike is grinning. He's been with the team for the past two years, starting his third, and the only time the man smiles is after a hard-fought, well-deserved win. If he feels like we didn't truly earn a win, he'll be grimacing with his lips pressed together until they look like one thin lip.

"First, we have to congratulate Sav on his first shutout of the season," he says, referring to Liam, whose nickname is Savage, or Sav for short. The guys clap and hoot, those closest to our goalie give him a few good slaps on the shoulder. Once some of the noise has died down, Coach continues, "Y'all played great tonight. The energy was high, we kept the momentum, and we improved compared to the last game. Can't get better than that."

He's always about improving. As long as there's improvement from the prior game, he's happy. He heads out of the room and Scotty stands, holding the pair of boxing gloves up. He earned that in the last game for being the best man on the ice, for being the one who fought the most to help us win. Tonight, he's going to give it to someone else.

"I don't think this could go to anyone except Savage. Congrats, man." More hoots and hollers as he hands them over to Liam.

He grins and places the string tying the gloves together around the back of his neck so they hang down his chest. "Thanks for helping me out," he says with a nod to us. He's always about giving credit to someone. He earned his shutout, but he thanks us for playing well and making it a little easier for him. He made some sick saves, but if we don't play like shit where he has to stand on his head, then he feels as if he has a reason to thank us for helping him out.

Soon, we're loaded up onto the bus for the ride to the hotel. We have another game tomorrow, but we're getting a few hours of sleep before we head to the airport bright and fucking early tomorrow. When I get to my room, I quickly shed some clothes and climb into bed. But sleep isn't in the cards for me just yet.

I try to call Meredith so we can video-chat, but she doesn't answer. Two seconds later it seems, I get a text.

**Meredith:** _No video-chat. I look horrible. Just call me._

**Me:** _I don't care. Calling again and you better answer, Mere._

Damn it, I just want to _see_ her. I don't give a fuck what she looks like. I open the app and try again. She answers.

"You do look rough," I tease, causing her to groan.

"I set an alarm to wake me up because it's been a long, rough day and I knew if I laid down, I'd fall asleep. Tell me I'm pretty or I'm hanging up." She sounds like she's joking, but she looks serious, too.

"You look beautiful, Mere," I quickly but softly say. "I mean it, too." And I do. Her hair is a bit wild because it looks like she went to sleep while it was still wet. Her eyes are glassy and tired looking. They almost look red and puffy, like she's been crying. Maybe it's just from her being tired. It's three in the morning there.

"I miss you, Noah." She says it so quietly with such sad eyes, that I know she's been crying over something.

"Miss you too. What happened today?"

"Nothing; just been thinking too much."

"About what?"

She takes a deep breath. "About what happened with Vance and me and the thing I don't want to talk about."

This is when a piece of my heart chips away and I want to beg, demand, plead, and throw a fit to make her tell me the full story.

"Noah, I...it..." she struggles with her words before sighing.

"What is it?" I gently probe.

"Nothing. Once you get home and we have our welcome home party for two, I'll tell you. It's time for me to tell you. Probably past due," she mutters, glancing down at Leo, if I had to guess.

It takes a minute for her words to process. The remaining road trip is going to pass too quickly while dragging things out at the same time. I'm suddenly scared to find out what took the spark out of Mere's eyes. What if it's really bad? How can I prepare myself when I don't know what to expect?

"Noah?" she says when I don't respond.

"If you're ready, I'll be ready, too." God, I hope I'm prepared for whatever she says and that I handle it in the way she needs me to handle it.

She gives me a soft smile. "How was the game? I missed the last period."

"Won four-oh. Erica still treating you okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Got into an argument with her, though, because I want Kira to play tomorrow and she thinks I'm overstepping or overestimating Kira's ability. We'll see if she lets her play. I'm hoping for Kira's sake, she does. I told Erica she could be fifth seed, easy. If she keeps working as hard as she is now, she could be in the top three next season. She's such a quick learner. And, hopefully, her friend, Ginny, will play next year too since the girl who is the reason she doesn't play will be graduating in the spring."

God, I love hearing her talk about what she loves. Maybe she wasn't meant to play tennis forever, because I swear, I never heard her go on and on about tennis, or have such passion in her voice, as she does when she talks about helping Kira. What I actually think she should be doing is private lessons because that's where she's getting her high, not on the assistant coach aspect of it.

So I tell her that.

"Maybe after retirement. I've started training again to try to get my shoulder back into shape."

"Your physical therapist thinks you're ready for that?" I don't know, since she never mentions how it goes.

Meredith sidesteps my question. "I've been rallying with the girls at practice. I think it's a good time to start back into my routine."

"Mere," I start softly. "Are you listening to your physical therapist or are you jumping into things before it's time?"

That spark in her eyes turns into a fire. "I'm not giving up on my career."

"I'm not asking you to give up. I'm asking if it's a realistic expectation for you to return, and I'm assuming no since you refuse to answer my question."

"If it wasn't realistic, I wouldn't be trying."

I decide to let it go, not wanting to get into an argument with her, especially while on the road. "Anyway, I still think you could do private lessons. You're essentially giving Kira lessons. You don't need to go back to school or be able to train as if you're in the pros; you need to teach, and you _can_. Think about it. You can do all ages, you can still do what you're doing now, too, and you'd be happy."

She groans. "I'm too tired to think about all of that."

"Leo keeping you company?" I ask.

She smiles and turns the phone so I can see him. The damned dog is lying with his back to her chest, stretched out on his side, and snoring a little. I really need to stop getting jealous over a dog. "I'm glad I got him," she tells me, turning the phone back on her. "I'd definitely be going crazy if he wasn't here."

"Well, turn off the light and get some sleep. We'll talk later. I love you."

"Too soon to be over already, but I'm getting sleepier by the minute. I love you, too."

We hang up and I get some sleep, hoping Mere's getting some too.

It's Sunday, and we have the day off. It's our last day in California. We're spending time together as a team by dividing up and playing volleyball on the beach. Brayden and Scotty are in charge. Brayden's too competitive to let this be too much of a fun game, so we're lined up like we're in gym class, about to play dodgeball.

"Tommy Boy," Brayden calls, picking Tommy Alderson to be on his team.

"Marco," Scott says next.

Back and forth until we're all on a team, me being on Brayden's. A game finally gets underway. Days like these are good to have. It allows us to bond while we have fun and get a break from the everyday duties our career gives us. Our team is in the lead, for those counting, so Brayden has let loose a little. He's just so serious and wound up, it's hard to get him to relax or smile every now and then.

However, things are a little odd. I don't think I'll ever get used to being taped for some sort of promo. It's not that I dislike it, but it's just weird. With the organization wanting to get fans more interested and involved, their social media campaigns are always doing something.

We're taking a small water break when the volleyball hits me in the back of the head, spilling water down my chest and onto my shorts. It's not a hard hit, but it's not a soft one either. I don't even have to look or hear his snickering to know who's responsible.

Fucking Marc. He can be a real pain in the ass.

I turn, surveying the beach to find him with a shit-eating grin on his face even though he's pretending to be interested in whatever Scott is saying, and pick up the ball. In one smooth motion, I hurl the ball at his chest. A satisfying _hmmph_ comes from Marc.

"Keep the ball to yourself, yeah?"

"Whatever you say, Rams. Captain Hook, aren't you finished resting? We're ready to kick your ass."

Brayden shakes his head, but we get back to the game. Despite what Marc said, we kick their asses. It's been a good fun day. We return to the hotel, shower, and then head out for dinner. Ian Rhett, a defenseman a little younger than me with the nickname of Bruiser, is heading to the elevator as well as Marc. Ian is texting, flicking his eyes up every so often to make sure he doesn't run into anything. The guy always has his phone in his hands if he can. He was traded to the team last February, but he always seems preoccupied with his phone or in a rush to leave after the games.

Marc pushes the button for the elevator and it dings as the doors slide open. We all step in.

"Who are you texting?" Marc asks, sounding annoyed. Probably because Bruiser has it in his settings where you can hear a noise from the keys as he types. Marc can't stand to hear any noise from a cell phone.

Ian doesn't even lift his head. "My woman," he answers.

Marc and I exchanges glances. We didn't know he had a woman, but it makes sense. Ian sighs as he puts the phone in sleep mode, checking to see how close we are to the floor of the lobby.

"Trouble in paradise?" Marc asks.

Ian huffs. "Gotta have paradise to have trouble in first."

Marc glances at me, utterly confused. The doors part and Ian's the first to step out. He hasn't made many friends since he's been here, but that's mostly because he's been so wrapped up in whomever that girl is on the other side. Or, at least, that's what we think. Who knows for sure?

***

ERICA IS JUST now bumping Kira up to the seed she deserves. The smile on Kira's face when Erica told her made all the arguing I've done on her behalf worth it. There's five minutes until the match starts and the nerves have hit Kira. She's looking at me with wide, panicked eyes. I grab her shoulders and give them a gentle squeeze.

"You got this. You're good enough to play. If you make a mistake, stash it away and focus on the next shot. You'll be fine," I reassure her.

"You got this, Kira!" we hear Ginny shout from somewhere behind us.

She laughs softly and nods before making her way to the court she'll be playing on. I do the same, only I'm on the other side of the fence now. Ginny stands next to me as we watch the match begin. I'm hoping Kira will win, but ultimately, I hope she plays well even if she loses.

"Excuse me."

I turn around at the sound of a woman's voice. She holds out her hand.

"My name is Holly; I'm Kira's mother."

"Oh! It's nice to meet you," I say, shaking her hand.

Holly comes to stand next to me. Her eyes are on her daughter as she serves. "Thank you for what you've done for Kira."

"She deserves all the credit." All I did was make sure she was playing with the correct hand.

"So do you," her mother insists. "She was happy on the team before, but now? She's over the moon. She and Ginny both love working with you."

"Yes, we do," Ginny agrees.

"Thanks," I mutter, unsure how to handle the praise.

This is a different kind of accomplishment, one that I've never experienced before. I've won matches, tournaments, and championships by playing them. I had a coach, a personal trainer, and plenty of people around to support me. I worked hard and selfishly sacrificed the love of my then-young life to have a shot at being one of the best female tennis players. Being _the_ best wasn't my goal. I only wanted to be among the greats, to consider myself similar to them.

I made that accomplishment, however brief it was. I went from doing something every single day to floundering around like a fish out of water with nothing to do and a load of heartache I wanted to avoid. With Noah gone and too much free time on my hands, even with my job, I've made good use of the gym in the complex. My life is vastly different than it was this time last year.

The love I have for my current job is overwhelming sometimes. Not to say I don't miss playing, I do, but I've found a replacement for it that's mostly giving me what I need. And watching a girl I've helped play her first match _and_ kick ass? More than I could've imagined. It's the icing on the cake. However, I just can't give up on the idea of returning to the game. The thought saddens me every time I think about it. Not to mention that now, I hear Noah in the back of my head, questioning my ability to do so.

It hurts, even if he has the right to question me. Everyone keeps telling me I can't do it. I desperately want to be one of those people who powers through the obstacles and proves to everyone who said they couldn't that they can. I want to prove to myself that I'm not damaged. I want to prove to Vance that I'm not pathetic, even if he never sees it. I want to make sure I have no regrets, that I do my damnedest to _try_.

I've played through pain before, and I'm most likely crazy to want to continue doing so. So far, it's not working out the way I want, but I haven't given up yet, especially since my shoulder has gotten better the more I rally with the girls.

"I need you to take notes on everyone," Erica orders. Her voice gets more and more annoying the more I hear it.

I nod and tell Holly and Ginny I'll see them later and begin making my rounds. I don't know why she wants me to take notes. She rarely does anything with the suggestions I give her. She's bumped Kira up, but we'll see if she listens to my other piece of advice.

Our top four girls are _horrible_ in doubles. Carrie is the number two seed and her bestie is number four. I'm certain Carrie's attitude is why she doesn't play well with our number one seed. I told Erica that the problem is a lack of chemistry. All she needs to do is play seeds one and three together and two and four together instead of one with two and three with four.

While I jot down things the girls could improve on, which Erica will or will not acknowledge, I also keep track of score. There are five matches happening simultaneously, but it isn't too hard to keep up. It's actually harder to concentrate because Noah will be home tonight. He's not getting in until late since they are flying home after a game. The good news is tomorrow morning is an optional skate since there's a game tomorrow night, and I'm crossing my fingers that he'll choose to skip.

I've missed him more in this two weeks than I did in all the years we were apart. Now that I have him back in my life, I wonder how we lasted so long without one another. How did we live without hearing _I love you_ or _I miss you_ every day? How did we manage to not speak to one another for nearly eight years when we can't go all day without doing so now? Life with Noah is so full of love and laughter, comfort and happiness. The little things feel like big things. The contentment of knowing a person so well and of anticipating his next words, his next touch is indescribable. For the first time in too long, there's peace and a sense of being home.

I didn't even have that in my actual home.

However, with all of that, there's still a heaviness in my chest. Knowing that I'm going to tell Noah once he returns has brought about all sorts of anxiety, but in the back of my mind, I'm hoping that by telling him, the heaviness will alleviate. Maybe even completely disappear. That's doubtful. At the very least, it can shrink to a more tolerable weight.

I've worried over how Noah will respond. Whenever I try to imagine possible reactions, I come up blank. For my parents, it's easier. But with Noah, I can't seem to come up with anything. Part of me is ready to get it over while the other half just wants to keep it to myself for the rest of my life. He should know. He's my best friend, the love of my life, and it's something you share with that kind of person. I start planning my speech. I put together the perfect string of words in my head and hope they'll leave in the order I've arranged.

Thinking about this zones me out for the rest of the afternoon. My body is on autopilot throughout the matches, as I grab something to eat on the way home, take Leo out for his walk, shower, slip on Noah's jersey with a pair of pajama shorts, and finally lie on the couch with my cuddle buddy to watch the game. My goal is to stay awake until Noah comes home. Conveniently, I have tomorrow off.

I feel myself being lifted and my eyes slowly open. My head is against a neck.

"Come on, Leo," I hear Noah whisper.

I lift my head. A smile easily lifts into place. "You're home," I whisper.

"Yeah, Mere, I'm home." He sets me on our bed before leaving me for the dresser. "Long day?" he asks over his shoulder. He's already stripped down to his boxer-briefs, so I admire the muscles in his back and those thick thighs and bubble butt that seems to come along with every hockey player. _Thank you, Hockey Gods._

"Yeah," I answer.

Noah brings me a pajama shirt. I toss it aside and throw my arms around him. He doesn't hesitate in letting his arms hang around me. "I missed you," he murmurs into my hair.

"I missed you more."

His hands run up my back. "You're my favorite part of coming home, especially when you look so fucking beautiful asleep and in my jersey." His fingers grasp my hair, tugging gently, so I tilt my head back to look at him. His eyes are so intense as they search mine. "I still feel like you're going to slip through my fingers and disappear on me."

"Never again," I promise. A reason why I'm actually struggling with my attempt at a comeback. I don't want to leave Noah. Ever. I like the new life I've built with him.

If only I could come to terms with my career.

Noah leans down and kisses me. I'm a bit confused because that kind of kiss—the soft, gentle, tender kiss—is what he gives me after an argument. It's the everything-will-be-okay kiss. It _always_ comes after an argument. However, we haven't had an argument. Am I missing something?

"What's wrong?" I blurt out.

Leo barks a pitiful little puppy bark, so Noah picks him up and sets him on the bed. "Nothing's wrong," he says.

"Don't lie to me."

His eyes shoot up from Leo to me. I rest my hands on his stomach, feel it tense underneath my touch, and wait for him to speak. Noah sighs. "Nothing. Promise. Things have been good with us and I know whatever you're going to tell me when you decide to let me in is going to drop a bomb on us. I just..." He cups my neck. "We'll be all right."

But his words are a reassurance for himself more so than for me. He's worried damage will be done when I explain my past. That very well may happen. Maybe he's worried that I'll do what I've been doing: running away and falling apart. His day off is Saturday, and I plan to bare my secrets then.

"We'll be all right," I repeat.

Hopefully, that's true.

He kisses me softly just once more before crawling into bed and holding me. It's reassuring.

Noah's not going to let go of me now or after I've bared my soul to him.

He's going to hold on for dear life.

"Almost there," I breathe. My fingers curl in Noah's hair and I struggle with holding him down or yanking him up because I can't take it anymore. "Ooooohhhhh goooooodddd," I groan, my legs squeezing around his head while I fall apart from my second orgasm of the morning. Noah woke me up with some strategic touches, made love to me, and then kissed his way down my body to set me off again. As the waves begin to settle, my legs fall back open, my fingers release their hold, and my bones melt to make me feel weak and satisfyingly exhausted. Noah crawls up my body with a cocky grin. That's the first time he's done what he just did since we've been back together. "You know, you've gotten _way_ better at that."

He tilts his head. "Are you saying I was bad before?"

In my happy delirium, I nod. "You were sloppy; I may have faked a few times."

"You faked?"

I giggle at his astonishment.

"This is not a laughing matter."

"You can't be surprised that teenage Noah sucked at oral."

"Teenage Mere was fucking great at oral," he says and I bark out a laugh.

"That's because I was with teenage Noah! You were always easy to get off."

He shakes his head at me, but there's a smile on his face. "You know, people are going to think I'm sick or something," he says, changing the subject.

"Why?"

"I've never missed an optional skate; it'll be noticed."

"Should you go then?" I hate that I feel so out of the loop when it comes to his career. That's like Sylvia is begging me to go to lunch with her and some of the other wives and girlfriends, but I've created excuses each time. Some of them were legit, most were not. I don't feel like I fit in yet. Some of them revolve their lives around their men and the organization. Some don't. Some seem to do both. I don't even know that I'd want get as involved as some of them. I worry that I'll lose myself like I did with Vance.

I may have been a phenom, but Vance has been _the_ best male tennis player for three years straight. My fame had nothing on him. Absolutely nothing. I wasn't known as Meredith Quick, tennis player. I was known as Vance Powers's girlfriend. Not even as Meredith or a girl who happened to play tennis as well. Being lost in the shuffle was liberating at first, but soon, and especially after my injury, I felt lost. Meredith all but vanished. I struggled to maintain a sense of self while Vance overshadowed me. He made sure when we were together that his light shone brighter than mine. He wanted me to be his version of the perfect spouse and it was so hard to fit into the cutout he made for me. My biggest fear used to be who am I without tennis. That battled with who am I with Vance.

Looking back, it's easy to see how he smothered me. Noah gives me plenty of space for what _I_ want while also making sure I give him what he wants and we do what we both want. It was almost always about Vance. He wanted me more involved in his life without reciprocating even a little. Toward the end, it was a relief that Vance wanted to end our relationship. Between my injury and being with him, I didn't know who the hell I was anymore. In some regards, I still don't.

Shouldn't I feel secure in my life and who I am by now? I'm not a teenager. I'm not in my early twenties anymore. Why haven't I figured life out yet? Why haven't I figured _myself_ out yet? Things only worsened when my engagement ended and the events that followed did not help. I've been stagnant, lost in between my life without Noah and tennis, but I'm beginning to find my way.

I think.

"Mere?" Noah's soft, worried tone snaps me out of my thoughts. "Where'd you go?" He taps my temple before moving to lie next to me.

The weight of the disaster of my life while looking at the beautiful man who could care less and wants me after all that's happened hits me all at once. How do I even begin to explain what's going on in my head? Swallowing hard, I whisper, "I need to tell you today." I need to get it all out before I explode. Before I overthink, overanalyze, and over-plan what can't really be planned to start with.

Noah nods. "Okay. Shower, breakfast, and then we'll talk."

He doesn't waste any time getting out of bed, holding his hand out, which I take, and leading us to the shower. He takes over, washing me with the utmost care while I focus on doing the same for him. Noah doesn't say anything when the tears begin to fall. The worry dominates in those brown eyes of his, in the pinch of his brows, in the frown already on his face. When we're finished, we dress. Noah takes Leo for a walk and I get started on breakfast.

Nothing is said while we eat. He's watching me, but I focus on my plate of food. The longer it takes, the more I withdraw into myself. I can't do this. I can't say those words. I can't relive the past. I don't want to tell him. I don't want to see the surprise, the pain, and the pity in his eyes. I don't want to see how telling him may affect our relationship. I'll tell him I've changed my mind. But what will holding the past hostage from him do to our relationship? Now that I have him, I can't be without him again.

Noah's phone blares from the bedroom, so he gets up to answer it. The minutes tick by as my anxiety rises. My thoughts are like a ball on the tennis court.

I can do it.

No, I can't.

Yes, I can.

No, I can't.

Yes, I can.

I have no choice.

There's a knock on the door.

Maybe it's Marc. I almost hope it is. Only one way to find out.

I open the door and feel as if I've been punched in the gut when I see Vance standing on the other side. My heart immediately bounces around in my chest. Oh my god. _No._ "How'd you find me?" I'm barely able to speak loud enough for him to hear me.

"Searched your name online and found out where you worked. Your boss, Erica, told me."

"What are you doing here?" I ask, even though I know. There's only one reason Vance would want to speak or see me again. Fuck, what am I going to do? Not only do I have to tell Noah, but I have to tell it to this despicable man?

That's when Vance glances down at my stomach. He tilts his head. The slight bit of worry confuses me. "You've already had the baby?" he asks, surprised.

All I can do is shake my head as my throat closes up. _No, no, no, no, no._

This is _not_ what I planned! This is happening all wrong. Why is it happening to me at all? Haven't I been through enough? Isn't telling Noah enough?

His eyes harden and the fury I remember is back on his face. "So, I was right? You were lying the entire time?" His harsh tone makes me flinch. Vance takes a step closer, invading my space, his face only two inches from my own. Then he beings to yell. "You _bitch_! I can't believe this. I've been searching high and low for your fucking ass and I was right that you lied!" He shoves a finger at my chest. It's a hard enough poke that it catches me off guard and I stumble a step backward.

"What's going on?" Noah says from behind me as my voice cracks while I try to explain, "I didn't lie!"

"Then where's the baby, Meredith?" Vance shouts.

"Baby?" I faintly hear Noah question.

"Why do you even care?" I scream. The rage of his accusation from so long ago that I've held in all this time finally pushes me over the edge. "You thought I was trying to trap you, Vance! You wanted nothing to do with me and thought I would actually lie about something like that. You told me even if I wasn't lying, you wanted nothing to do with us!"

"Well I changed my mind!" he yells. He's so close to my face, one small movement and our noses would be touching. From the corner of my eye, I see Noah grab Vance's shoulder and nudge Vance away from me.

"Why? Why the fuck couldn't you just stay away?" I fire back.

"Because I got married," he starts eerily calm, "and when I told her what happened, she told me I needed to step up and find you, be part of the baby's life, and come to find out, it was all a lie!" he finishes in a shout.

"I didn't lie!"

"Then where is the baby, Meredith? Where the fuck is our baby?" He goes to take another step closer, but Noah's arm shoots out to become a barrier to keep him away from me.

"Dead!" I scream, and the silence immediately envelopes us. The loudest noise is my hard breathing from the yelling. I take a deep breath. My hands are shaking and I'm ready to give up. "I lost the baby," I say in a quiet, trembling voice, barely able to keep it together. "And it wasn't any of your fucking business since you thought I was lying in the first place."

There's three beats of silence as they both stare at me with wide eyes.

" _Mere_."

My eyes close at the sound of Noah's soft voice. I swallow hard, shake my head, and turn to run down the hall toward the bedroom, leaving the stunned men behind.

***

VANCE LOOKS SHAKEN by the news, and I feel sick. Clearing my throat, I say, "You can have a seat if you need a minute before you leave." Because he is leaving. I don't wait for his reply. I follow after Meredith. How in the fuck do I wrap my mind around this, around something Mere was going to tell me today, and compose myself before I face her?

Meredith is lying face down on our bed, and Leo is looking up at the bed, wondering how he's going to get up there since he can't jump that high yet. She's sobbing uncontrollably, the worst I've ever seen. I crawl over her body and let my weight rest on her, though not all of it, as I prop myself on my elbows and press my face into her neck, her hair tickling my face.

"It gets worse," she whispers. Her voice is cracked and as broken as she is. I wonder if she pretended to be okay with me, when she wasn't thinking about it, or if I've been helping her heal. Then, I realize what she said.

Fuck. How can it get worse?

Her shoulder bumps mine, so I lift myself for her to roll over before lowering my body again. She finds solace in my neck as her arms wrap around me. She doesn't say anything. She only holds on tight with strength I didn't know she had. I don't push her. I don't ask questions. I roll us onto our sides so I can hold her. That's all.

Her tears dry up. My neck is soaked. Her breathing is shaky.

"I know it's not my fault, but..." The sentence trails off into her hiccups.

"Talk to me, Mere," I whisper.

She pulls back to look me in the eyes. "I'm sorry you found out like that, Noah."

"Doesn't matter," I quickly interject, wishing she'd just get on with it. "I know you were going to tell me."

Meredith squeezes her eyes closed, two fresh tears falling. "The day before it happened, I broke down into tears because all I could think about was you. Vance had already blown up at me and I was back in Pittsburgh. I was heartbroken because it felt like a permanent end to us, like I'd forever lost my chance, and I had the gall to be upset because it wasn't _your_ baby. I wished I could start all over, go back to you, and go through it with you. The next day, I lost my baby." She's holding on by a thread. I can see the battle in her eyes to hold on instead of falling apart again. Her fingers dig into my skin.

"Mere," I start quietly. "Just because you wished those things didn't mean you wanted to lose, and wouldn't love, what you were given instead. I'm so sorry you went through that alone and have been holding that in, and maybe this isn't the time to say it, but you're here. We're together. You'll have my baby."

"But what if I don't? What if that was my one chance and I lost it?"

"It'll happen, Mere. We eventually made our way back to one another, we can eventually make that happen, too. You deserve the world, and I'm determined to give it to you, Mere. One way or another, yeah?" She nods and the fact that she's letting me ease her worries, that she trusts me that much...if my heart could skip a beat, it just did. While I have her like this, I add, "You gotta tell your parents."

"I know," she whispers. "I'll need to go home for that, but I'm not sure I'm ready."

"You can ask them to come here if you don't want to do it alone."

She only nods.

"I'll be right back." I hate to leave her, but I want to make sure the prick is gone. How do you accuse your fiancée of lying about a pregnancy because you think she wants to keep you from ending the engagement? I can't even imagine what that must have been like for Meredith.

Vance is sitting on my couch when I walk into the living room.

"Is there a reason you're still here?" A sense of satisfaction overwhelms me when he jumps at the sound of my voice.

He stands and faces me. "Where's Meredith?"

"You found out what you wanted to know. What else do you need to say to her?" You know, what's stopping me from punching him one or three times? Why shouldn't I? I let those thoughts fade and continue talking. "She doesn't need your apology or anything else you might have to say to her. There's no reason for you to stay any longer."

"I just want to talk to her, pal. Who the hell are you anyway?"

For some reason, I'm not surprised that he doesn't know who I am. And who the hell says pal? "I'm Noah Ramsey, Meredith's boyfriend and a professional hockey player, which means I occasionally get into fights to spice things up."

What's even funnier than what I said is that Vance actually pales. Holding in my laugh is difficult, but I manage.

"Why are you still here?" We turn at Meredith's question. She's standing at the opening of the hallway with Leo against her chest.

"I just—"

"He's just leaving," I say over him, grabbing his shoulder and guiding him toward the door. Lucky for him, he doesn't protest. After closing the door behind him, I turn to Meredith to find her sitting on the couch. "How did he find the apartment?" I ask.

"He found out where I worked and Erica told him how to find me."

"What?" I'm certain giving out personal information like that has to be against policy. Regardless, it pisses me off.

Mere shrugs as I sit next to her, causing Leo to hop over into my lap. "I'm just glad he's gone." She rests her head on my shoulder and holds my hand, her fingers biting into my skin. "Are you sure we're okay, Noah?"

"We're okay," I confirm.

Her fingers relax just a bit. "Good." We sit like that for a bit. Quietly. Lost in our own thoughts. "He was mean when we broke up," she begins quietly. "He told me I was pathetic for being so lost without my job and in the same breath said I was worthless without it. He wanted us to be some kind of tennis power couple or something. I missed my period the month I started PT, but I thought it was just because I was so stressed. Then, when I missed it again, I took a test and found out I was pregnant three days after we broke up. He was convinced I was using it to get back together and trap him into a marriage with me. I even tried to tell him I didn't want to marry him, but he didn't believe me. So, I left. Went home." The tears start all over again.

"I was trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life and the one I had inside me. I needed to do that before I told anyone else. Part of me was sure my parents would be disappointed in me. I had a broken engagement, was pregnant, and didn't have a job. My plan was gone, and I _needed_ to come up with a new one. I had gotten used to the idea of being a mom and had started thinking about how I was going to do this on my own. I was about to start my second trimester when it happened. After that, I was so heartbroken. I just couldn't make myself tell them what happened. I was even home for a month before I let anyone know I was there.

"Then, Mom knew the engagement was off simply because I was home and refused to say anything about it. I eventually got stir crazy and maybe a little crazy from reexamining my life, which led me to decide to find you. That's what I would've told you if Vance hadn't shown up. I knew I needed to tell you when you showed me the ring. I..." The word dies in her throat. "I was due this month, Noah," she whispers.

I lift our hands and kiss her knuckles. So much of what she said now makes sense. "You can lean on me, Mere," I say quietly, remembering how she said she didn't have anyone to lean on during the worst time of her life.

"Thank you."

"Thank _you_."

"Does our future still look the same?" she tentatively asks.

"Absolutely. We're getting married this summer. Don't worry; I'll ask you at some point, and we'll buy a house. One day, that house will be full with as many kids as you want." My number one priority is her happiness. If she wants those things too, then I'll give them to her.

Meredith takes a shaky breath and lifts her head to look at me. "How many kids are you hoping for?"

"I want my own hockey team."

Mere laughs; I said the right thing. "Pick another answer," she tells me.

"Fine. Six. That gives me three forwards, two defensemen, and a goalie."

She leans away from me like she can't help but fall over, holds her stomach, and giggles. To see her laughing, knowing what she's been through in the past year and knowing she's mine, it's like a damn miracle. I grab her elbow and tug her to me for a kiss. The giggles cease, but the smile stays. "Six? Really?"

"What did I tell you while I was getting the tattoo?" I ask.

Her smile fades a bit as she remembers, but it's still there. "That you would be okay with only my name on your body for the rest of your life, but you hoped to add the names of our kids one day, whether it was one kid or six. You said the most important of all was having me," she recalls quietly. "I had forgotten that."

"It's true to this day and always will be, Mere."

She slips her arms around me in a hug, resting her head on my shoulder again. "I love you."

"I love you more."

The rest of morning is spent lounging on the couch and playing with Leo. Meredith's only additional comments about what happened is that the only reason Vance put forth the effort of calling her most likely has to do with shutting his new wife up rather than a guilty conscience or actually wanting something to do with the baby who would've been born this month.

When I leave to drive to the rink for the game tonight, I call Hope.

"Noah, how are you doing?" she asks when she answers.

"Good. I don't really have much time, but I wanted to call you real quick."

"Okay," she says warily. "What's going on?"

"I can't tell you more than what I'm about to, and the only reason I'm calling is to ease your worries, so please don't ask me anything. Can you do that?"

"Is this about Meredith?"

"Yes."

There's no hesitation. "I can do that."

"She's told me everything. She's talked to me. You don't have to worry so much about her."

A moment of silence and then, "She's okay?"

"She's okay. I think she's going to share with you and Harold, but I can't say when she'll be ready for that."

Hope's sigh is full of relief. "Thank you, Noah."

"No thanks needed. Oh, and one more thing. I haven't asked yet, but we're planning to get married this summer. I figured you'd want to know, so you can get her to start planning the wedding she wants."

"You want us to plan a wedding when you haven't proposed?"

"Yes," I answer simply.

"And Meredith knows about this?"

"She knows my plan, yeah."

"Well, okay."

I talk to her for a few more minutes before hanging up. It's not my place to explain to her parents what happened, but I wanted to let her know she can stop worrying about her one and only daughter. The hardest hurdle for Meredith was talking about it. She's done that. Meredith isn't as lost as she was when she first came here. She's found a new passion, she's with me, and she's tackling her past so she can move forward.

She's close to being back to normal. That's all I want.

"Why are we here?" Meredith asks when I pull into a parking lot the next evening.

"Because it's Halloween and I forgot to tell you sooner. We need to find costumes for Brayden's party. We have an hour, so let's get this done."

"An hour? Why didn't we do this when you got back from the arena?"

I turn my head to raise an eyebrow at her as I pull the key from the ignition. That's all the response I need. Her cheeks turn a little pink as she remembers how she attacked me the moment I walked into the door. She did the same thing last night when I got home from the game. I'm not complaining one bit either.

"Right, well, ah, let's go." She opens the door and gets out, so I follow after her. Mere takes my hand when we meet at the back of my SUV, and we walk into the Halloween store. "Are we matching?" she asks.

"I don't care."

"What kind of party is this?"

"It's just a party," I reply, not sure what she means.

"Are we going for something fun? Something sexy? Something simple? What?"

"Sexy, definitely sexy." I want to show her off. Unfortunately, my answer makes Meredith picky. For thirty minutes, I follow her as she shifts through the clothes hanging on racks. "You need to hurry up," I repeat what I've been saying since we hit the fifteen-minute mark.

"Say that one more time, Noah," she says without even looking at me. "I'm trying these on." She holds up four costumes. I follow her to the dressing room, and since there isn't enough room for the both of us, I'm left sitting outside in a chair.

The store is busy, appearing as if we weren't the only ones waiting until the last minute to get our costumes. The problem is there isn't an awful lot to choose from due to waiting.

"Noah?"

I stand at the sound of her voice and move closer to the door that separates us. "Yeah?"

"If we're matching, then you need to find a sailor's costume. I'll find you once I get dressed again."

"Okay." I leave her to see if I can find the costume. Because I don't feel like doing the search myself, when a salesperson asks if I need help, I ask if they have one. According to her, I'm in luck. There's one left and it's in my size.

"Good," Meredith says, appearing next to me, "you found one. Let's pay and get out of here, so I can get ready for this thing."

She's holding an entire outfit in her hands. I'm tempted to ask if I can see it, but knowing it can take her forever to get ready, I decide against it. I'll see it soon enough. When we get home, Mere orders me to shower in the guest bathroom, be sure to take Leo for a walk, and to be ready when she is. It's funny how I need to be ready to go when she is when I'm going to be ready way before her. That's why she wants me to make sure Leo uses the bathroom before we leave. I'm the only one who's going to have time to do it.

As expected, I'm ready in no time. It's a little odd to walk Leo in my costume, and I'm relieved when no one sees me. I'm surprised when I walk back into my apartment to see that Meredith is ready. All I can do is stare, though. She's wearing fishnet stockings that stop mid-thigh, blue heels, and a blue dress that flares like there's a tutu underneath it at the bottom. Her legs look amazing, her cleavage is to die for, and I'm second-guessing this whole wear-something-sexy-so-I-can-show-you-off idea.

She looks _too_ good, if that's possible.

Leo runs over to her, so I drop his leash before he runs too far and gets yanked back. Meredith smiles and leans over. I groan. She just flashed me with a spectacular view of her ass.

"You can't wear that."

She turns around as she picks Leo up and unhooks him from his leash. "Why not?"

"You're too hot and if you're going to flash someone, it should be me and only me."

Mere rolls her eyes. "It's not like I'm going to bend over like that at the party, Noah. I know the dress is too short for that. Besides, you can't tell me what to wear or to not wear. Get over it." She flashes me a grin before walking over to Leo's crate. She moved it while I was gone. Now, it sits in the living room where he has a view of the door and so he can watch TV. Yeah. She turns on the TV to a kids channel and lets him watch cartoons while no one is home. Leo curls up on a small pillow she put in there and goes right to sleep. Meredith walks over to me, her heels clicking on the floor, and takes my hand. "Let's go."

With a hand on her lower back, I pull her against me. "We have some time."

"No." Her hands are firm on my chest. "I took time to put myself together, you're not about to undo it before the party. You can do whatever you want to me when we get back."

"Whatever I want?" I ask.

She nods. I nudge her out the door and lock up. The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave and I get to do whatever I want.

Last year, this party was a ton of fun. Kids aren't allowed, so those with kids get their activities done, drop them off with a babysitter, and then come to the party. I'm excited to be able to do something with Mere. We've been on one date since she came to North Carolina, and that shouldn't really count. It was only lunch and showing her the practice facility.

The party is already in full swing when we get there. Because friends of friends can also be invited, Brayden has to host it at a banquet hall. Plus, he didn't like the mess that was left at his house last year. This way, he doesn't have to worry about anything but showing up and paying people to do their jobs.

"Meredith!"

That's all the warning we get as a mostly naked man runs up to my girlfriend, lifts her up, and twirls her around before planting a kiss on her cheek. Meredith is laughing as Marc sets her down, but I'm glowering. He does that shit on purpose. He slings an arm around her shoulders and grins at me.

"What the hell are you?" I ask. He's in a Speedo that's the Canadian flag and there's a medal hanging around his neck.

"Obviously, he's an Olympic gold medalist swimmer from Canada," Meredith answers.

Marc nods. "Yep. Plus, this is a great excuse to wear my Speedo. Yo, EJ!" Marc waves down the guy as he's walking by with some girl.

"What?" he asks.

"Take a picture of us." Marc picks up his cell from the table nearby and tosses it to EJ.

Meredith reaches out to grab my hand and pulls me in next to her. She's in the middle with a man on each side. When EJ shows us the picture he took, she's grinning the widest.

"What sort of caption should I use when I post this on your Instagram?" he asks me.

"My what?"

"Instagram; you know, the social media site where you post photos. I created one for you."

"You did what?" I ask as Meredith says, "Oh! Let me see."

Once Marc has posted the photo of the three of us, I look over Meredith's shoulder as she goes through the photos Marc has posted. What the hell? Half of the time, I didn't even know he was taking the photo.

"Aw, it's like he's your stalker," Meredith tells me. "Do people know it's you posting for him?" she asks Marc.

"Only when the captions are making fun of him."

"Why do I have Instaspam?"

"It's Instagram," they both correct me.

"Whatever," I mutter.

"Because fans like to see what their favorite players do off the ice. Granted, I started it to make fun of you without you knowing, but then the team had to tweet about you being on it, so I had to straighten up a little bit since people think it's you posting directly and not me."

"Delete it."

"No, don't do that, Marc. He's right, you know," she says, turning to me. "It's good to have. Marc can give me the email and password he used. I can help and monitor his posts. You know you can trust me with it."

"Are you saying I'm not trustworthy?" Marc asks, pouting and holding a hand over his heart.

"Yes," we both answer.

"Oh, Meredith, you wound me. Here I thought we were tight. I'm going to have to get drunk now."

"You'll be okay." She pats him on the shoulder. "Text Noah the login info."

"We need drinks." I grab her hand and pull her to one of the many mini-bars set up around the room.

"What's so wrong with having social media?" she asks after we order.

"I don't care for it, and I don't have anything to say."

"You have always been a bit on the anti-internet side. It is a good thing to have, though."

"What's the point of having it? No one cares what I do."

"Your fans do. Lots of sports fans want to know what their favorite players do away from the game."

"Yeah, and I don't do much. I'm with you, out with the guys, or at home in Pittsburgh during the summer."

"And people want to see you with your girlfriend, out with the guys, and see the world through your eyes. You're keeping it. Marc can post for you when it's work stuff or on road trips, and I'll cover it when you're with me."

"Do you have one?" I ask.

She gets quiet. "Haven't posted anything since my injury."

I nudge her elbow with mine. "Your fans want to know you're okay, too, Mere." She shrugs, glancing away. "Let's take a picture of ourselves. You can post it on your Insty thing." She looks like she's about to object, so I add, "You have a lot of young fans, right? Don't you think they want to know that there's more to life than tennis? Or that there's a happy life without it?"

"Maybe." She glances down at herself. "But this isn't exactly a young-girl friendly outfit."

Marc is walking over to us, so I take Meredith's phone from my pocket and hand it to him. "She's going to post one of us on her own. Take it for us, yeah?" Before she can protest, I stand behind her, wrap one arm low on her waist and the other over her chest with my hand on her shoulder, conveniently covering up her cleavage. I rest my chin on my hand and my head against hers.

"Say 'boner,'" Marc says, making Meredith laugh, which makes me smile. He takes the picture and returns the phone to her. "It's good. Should definitely post it."

Meredith glances at me, and I nod. It is a good picture. She should post it. One of these days, I'm going to get through to her that just because she isn't playing tennis doesn't mean that she can't associate with it anymore. That shit is in her head because of Vance. It's not an all-or-nothing situation. She should know that already since she's an assistant coach and will hopefully start offering private lessons, but it's not connecting with her for some reason. She's still insisting that she can make a comeback.

She posts the picture.

We hang out with Marc for a bit before he disappears somewhere and Sylvia carries Meredith away to talk to her. I hang with the guys, but my eyes are always on Meredith.

"I need to talk to you."

Marc appears out of nowhere.

"Where have you been?" I ask as we separate from the group.

"Having sex in my truck."

"What?"

Marc jokes a lot, and he likes to have fun, but that never transfers into having sex with random people. He just doesn't have it in him.

"I don't know what happened. There was this girl by the bathrooms, and I asked if she was okay, and next thing I know, she jumps me. I don't even know what she actually looks like because she was wearing a mask and a wig, but damn, she was perfect." He stops as if distracted by the memory.

"Then what's up?"

"We ended up in my truck, she said her name was Ivy, but I don't know if she was telling the truth now; she probably only said it because she was dressed as Poison Ivy. When we finished, she froze up on me. She nearly broke her ankle getting out of my truck and running to the other parking lot. She was gone before I could get out of the truck."

"Sounds like you have a crazy chick; you should be glad she ran."

Marc shakes his head. "I don't think so. Why do all the good ones have to run away from me?"

I laugh, nearly spitting out the sip of beer I just took. He has sex with a stranger in his truck who then runs away from him and he thinks she's a good one? "Why don't you ask around and see who she came with?"

"Eh, don't want to have to explain why I'm looking for her. Maybe we'll see her at the next party. Though, I'll probably only recognize her if I see her bare hip. She has a dove tattoo. I'm just trying to figure out why she ran."

"There's no telling when it comes to women."

"That's the damn truth," he agrees.

***

TONIGHT WHEN I walk into the family box, I'm greeted by Sylvia's daughter, the one who is outgoing. She reminds me her name is Stephanie, takes my hand, and leads me over to her mother, where her sister, Stella, is sitting in Sylvia's lap.

"Mommy, I'm hungry," Stephanie says, making her statement sound like a demand.

"Are you?" Sylvia asks Stella as I take my seat next to them. Stella shakes her head. "Why don't you wait with Meredith then?" The little girl looks at me and then her mother. "She's nice, remember? You met her at the party."

I feel as unsure of the situation as Stella does, I'm sure. But I find myself saying, "Come on. You can sit with me and we'll try to find your daddy when they come out for warmups."

Mentioning her father must earn me points because Stella gets down from her mother's lap and comes to climb into mine. I'm frozen for a moment as the little girl gets situated to face the ice.

"Do you want anything?" I shake my head. "We'll be right back. She never wants anything from up here, so we have to go down to the lower level," Sylvia says, taking Stephanie's hand and walking away.

Stella keeps her gaze on the ice. The players should be coming out in a minute or so. There's conversations happening all around us. The little girl seems oblivious to it all.

"Do you like watching your daddy play?" I ask.

Stella doesn't even look at me. She only nods.

"Do you ever skate with your daddy?"

Another nod.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah," she finally speaks. Stella looks at me now. "I play." Cheers from the lower bowl distract her as players make their way onto the ice for warmups. "Where is Daddy?"

"Do you know what number he is?" I ask more out of curiosity than anything else. Stella holds up seven fingers instead of saying his number. "There he is." I point to the lower corner. A huge grin appears on Stella's face. I might as well not be here anymore as she intently focuses on watching her daddy. She is most definitely a daddy's girl. She probably always will be.

"Where's your daddy?" Stella asks with eyes still on the ice.

"Oh, he's not here. I come to watch my boyfriend, Noah Ramsey. He's number—"

"Twenny-four," she finishes for me.

"Yep. And his best friend is Marc Polinski, number?" I wait to see if she knows his.

"Marco is nine teen," she says as if it's two separate words.

The girl knows her numbers. I can't help but quiz her. There are a few who cause her to hesitate in her response, but she gets them right. Sylvia returns once warmups are over. We're both surprised when Stella doesn't leave my lap for her mother's.

"Looks like you have a new friend," she tells me.

"Looks like," I agree.

"You'll be a natural mother. She's," _difficult_ , she mouths. "I honestly don't know where she got her shyness from. It's been hard to find a good babysitter too. Literally the only time she'll misbehave is if I try to leave her with someone other than Scott's parents. She's fine at school, but heaven forbid I leave her with a babysitter. I'm honestly surprised she let me leave her with you. That's why I think you'll be a natural."

I'm saved from replying because the boys are back and the game is about to start. Hearing those words is difficult. I never really thought about motherhood. Mostly because it was career first, then family. Not to mention, once I was without Noah, I realized how much I wanted that family with _him_. That particular thought hit hard when I discovered I was pregnant. Not once did I wonder what kind of mother I would be, if I would be a good one or not, because I was frantic over my situation and how I thought it was the final nail in the coffin of my relationship with Noah.

Stella mesmerizes me. She claps when she sees her daddy on the ice, whispers under her breath, "Score. Score. Score," and gives a little sigh when he doesn't. Her mother gets distracted often by Stephanie or one of the other wives, which is fine. I'm enjoying my time with Stella. Poor kid tries to stay awake when the second intermission comes, but she conks out with her head on my shoulder. I worry that she'll wake up from the chants or the insanity that follows when the Rebels tally two goals thirty seconds apart. I almost want to wake her up myself because she misses out on a goal by Scott.

But nothing wakes her up.

Sylvia catches her snoozing and smiles. "She sleeps like the dead. I love that about her. Once she's out, she's out until morning. Do you want me to take her? You've been sitting there all this time. I'm so sorry for not offering sooner."

"She's fine. I'm okay."

Noah may be a bit disappointed when he comes up to find me. I can't tell him much of what happened until the third period. I watched Stella more than I did the game. She's an interesting little kid. She seems to love two things most of all: her daddy and watching her daddy play. It's adorable. I'm sure if I could've gotten her to talk more, she would've told me about learning how to skate. Sylvia tells me that she's on the obsessed side. She loves Scott and what he does so much that Sylvia had to sign her up to learn how to play the game herself. That's what Stella meant when she said she plays too.

"She's a beast on the ice, even with what she's doing. Her personality is completely different. It's like she blossoms out there. Her shyness disappears. I love taking her because Scott is usually the only one who sees that side of her. I've got a complex little girl already. She's the complete opposite of that one." "That one" being Stephanie who is awake and having her own conversation with a stuffed animal. "But enough about my kids. Do you have any juicy gossip?" Sylvia's grin is hopeful.

"Um, not really. Unless you want to know how I'm going to have some words with Noah's ex-girlfriend?"

She gasps. "Why? What happened?"

"Long story short," I begin, but she interrupts me.

"No, let's hear the long story."

That makes me hesitate. "I'm more comfortable with the short version."

"Oh. Then, okay. That's fine. What happened?"

"Well, my ex-fiancé wanted to get in touch with me, and I'd been doing my best to ensure I didn't have to talk to him. I guess it's listed online that I'm an assistant coach at the school, so he went there, talked to Erica, and she told him where we live. He showed up. I'm just sick of her pulling stunts like that. She still tries to make me feel dumb on a daily basis, or she won't tell me something she wants me to do, and then gets irritated at me for not reading her mind. I'm over it, especially since if she wants to be mad at anyone, it should be Noah, but she refuses to believe that I'm not why they broke up."

"You know, I met her once, and I didn't like her. Glad it was only once. I hope you rip into her."

I laugh. "Only because that makes a better story for me to tell you the next time I see you."

"Quit gossiping, woman," Scott says from behind us. He leans down to kiss Sylvia, then the top of Stephanie's head, and lastly, Stella's.

"Leave me alone," Sylvia replies.

"You should feel special," he tells me. "She's chosen you as a new friend, otherwise she would be in Sylvie's lap."

"I do feel special," I admit, earning a smile from Scott.

"How long did she last?" he asks.

"Almost to the third period. I think she could've made it if there wasn't an intermission. I'm impressed she knows everyone's numbers too. I do good to remember just a few of you."

Clear pride is on Scott's face. "There's a hockey player waiting to break out in there. I can't wait for her to get a little older and play more."

"Hey, there you are."

I crane my head back to see Noah. "Where else would I be?"

"I just didn't see you as fast as I did last time."

"You got Stella to sit with you?" There's a touch of hurt, but a lot of jealousy in Marc's voice.

"Can't blame her for liking me more than you, Marco," I tease.

"Yes, I can. What's not to love about me? I honestly can't believe it. I've been trying to appeal to her for two years! She meets you twice and bam. You're on her good side." Marc shakes his head. "I'm going home." He turns and leaves.

I carefully hold the little girl in my arms and stand. I'm sure Scott and Sylvia are ready to go home too.

"I can take her," Scott says, moving to take her from me.

"She won't wake up?"

Scott shrugs. "She doesn't usually, but if she does and I'm the one holding her, she goes right back to sleep." He plucks her from my arms with ease. Her head goes from my shoulder to his and she doesn't budge.

"Sleeps like the dead," Sylvia reminds me.

"We'll see you guys later," Noah says, taking my hand as Sylvia grabs her purse and the little book bag of stuff she brought in case the girls got bored.

I wave goodbye and let him pull me away. Once we're relatively alone in the parking lot, I blurt out, "Sylvia thinks I'd be a natural."

"A natural what? Mom?" he asks and I nod. "You're surprised?"

"A little," I confess. "When was the last time you saw me with kids?" Just a small frown is all I need to say, "Exactly. Why wouldn't I be surprised?"

Noah pulls us to a stop just when we're almost to the car I've been driving. "Just because you were career-focused and not family-focused doesn't mean you wouldn't make a good mom when the time comes."

"I know that," I say quietly.

"Then why the surprise, Mere?" he pushes.

My eyes seem to water without any notice. It wasn't until just now that I realize why. Swallowing hard, I shake my head. These words are ones I don't want to think, much less say out loud. It's bad enough I thought what I did. Talking about it has to be even more of a jinx on the future.

"Mere? Not letting this go. Tell me if only so we can get home sooner and I can get in bed and hold you."

"I just..." How do I say it? It's bad enough I _thought_ it. "If by wishing I could start over to be with you, wasn't I essentially wishing the baby didn't exist? What kind of mom does that, Noah?"

He cups my face and places his thumbs over my lips to shut me up. "Get that out of your head right now, Meredith. You would've had the baby if you hadn't of lost it, yeah? Then where in that does it say during the time you panicked, that you _truly_ wished the baby didn't exist? Nowhere is that implied. Don't let things like that cause you to think you'd be a bad mom. That's impossible. You cared whether or not Stella would wake up. You didn't mind holding her or the idea of carrying her to the car. Don't doubt all the love you have to give, yeah?"

How can I not believe him? "Yeah."

His smile is gentle. Noah gives me a kiss on my forehead. "Good. Get in and I'll follow you home."

"I don't need you to come with me," I tell Noah. He's really starting to irk me with his insistence that we _both_ put Erica in her place. The last thing I need is him fighting my battles for me. Unfortunately, Noah is pissed off enough that he's determined to have his own say with her.

"I'm coming one way or another. Besides, I want to see you in action."

"Fine. Let's go." I already took Leo for a walk, but since Noah isn't changing his mind, I need to put him in his crate. Having Noah come with me is making me nervous. He hasn't seen me on the courts since high school and I will definitely not be doing the same thing as then. He's said he's watched me on TV before, but that's not the same either. "You aren't going to be amazed or anything, you know." I say once we get into the car. Apparently, I can't even drive us.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's not like I'll be playing in a tournament or anything. I just boss some teenagers around and get bossed around by Erica. The last time you saw me on the courts was high school. It's just not going to be exciting to watch."

He reaches over to take my hand in his. "I've seen you play as a pro, Mere. All I want is to see you in your new element. What's so bad about that?"

"I meant in person, Noah."

"Yeah, I know," he interjects.

I look at him with my mouth agape. He...what?

"The last title you won before your injury? I was there. That was the third time I saw you play in person."

Speechless. Stunned. Mind goes off to cloud nine. Heart explodes with one loud and long _awwwwwwwwww_. I knew he caught some of my matches on TV because he said so, but he didn't say he ever attended any.

"You...you saw me play?" I whisper.

"Yeah, Mere. I saw you play."

"Pull over," I demand.

"What?"

"Pull over!"

The second he's stopped on the side of the road, I grab his face, pull him to me, and kiss him hard on the lips. Our tongues twist together as our teeth clash a bit. Now, I totally understand how he felt when he learned I bought his jerseys. I pull away when his hands grab my hips. He can't pull me over into his lap. There's not enough room in his car, and that'll make us late. He looks a little dazed and I grin.

"I love you. You can start driving again."

"Really? I was thinking we could go back home."

"Sorry. I have a job to do."

Noah groans, looks over his shoulder, and pulls back onto the road. "You're a tease."

"I'm okay with that."

He laughs.

"Erica probably won't be happy to see you."

The smile leftover from his laughter disappears completely. "Don't give a damn."

"I really don't want you to say anything to her."

Noah reaches over to take my hand. "I won't unless she pisses me off. It's your show and you should be the one to confront her, but I'm going to be there and if she pisses me off, I plan to say something. The only reason she's being a bitch to you is because of me anyway."

"Just don't get me fired."

I don't know if Erica can keep her bitchiness at bay if Noah is there, but if not, there's no telling if I'll have a job tomorrow if Noah goes off on her. I can't even believe I'm worried about this. I'm supposed to not care so much since I hope to be back on the courts soon. However, I have to admit, part of me is hoping she pisses him off. I've never had Noah, or any other man aside from my father, step in and take over a situation.

Dad did it once with the very first tennis coach I ever had. He was a mean bastard, but I never complained to my parents. I thought they knew, but I should've known my father wouldn't allow me to be treated like that. One day, Dad showed up a little early to see how I was doing. He caught the tail end of a rant by my coach.

That was the last practice I had with him. Dad went so far as to get him fired from the facility. He took me to dinner and talked to me for a long time, explaining how it was his job to care for and protect me until one day he would step aside for the man who I'd spend the rest of my life with. He was sure to let me know that if said man ever slacked on the job, Dad would step in, do whatever needed to be done, and then deal with the man. That's what Noah is doing today. Caring for and protecting me by being there and being ready to step in if necessary. Dad would be proud.

We're a little early as planned. Noah holds my hand as we walk inside the school and to Erica's office after I clock in and Noah gets a visitor sticker. He squeezes my hand as I knock on her door.

"Come in," she calls from the other side.

I push the door open. Erica tenses when she sees Noah. "We need to talk," I say before she has the opportunity.

"About what?"

"About you giving out my address."

Erica shrugs. "I don't see the problem. He was your fiancé, after all, and he said it was an urgent matter."

"The problem is if I wanted him to have it, he would have it. You can't give out that information without my permission."

"Well, sorry." She doesn't mean it in the least. There's nothing genuine about it. "He pleaded he needed to see his ex because she was pregnant with his baby and due any day now, and I figured he should see the woman who obviously lied to him. It's not my fault he found out about it."

All I can do is stare at her. _That's_ why she told Vance where I was. If he told her he needed to see me because I was going to have the baby soon, she told him so he could find out that wasn't actually going to happen. Erica has the nerve to smirk at me.

"Mere," Noah snaps me out of it. Those brown eyes seem darker somehow, but it's his tightened jaw and voice that gives away his thinly veiled anger. He speaks to me in a gentle manner, though. "Go do whatever you usually do before practice. I'll come find you." He turns me and nudges me out of the office before I can process it.

"Listen to me carefully, Erica," I can hear him say, but I start walking away.

I've surprised myself by not wanting to hear what he has to tell her. Maybe my mind knows I'm going to need a few moments to myself to recover. It doesn't bother me that she thought I lied to Vance. She doesn't know me. What bothers me is how carelessly she threw it in my face, especially since she doesn't know what actually happened. There may be some women out there who would lie about something like that to trap a man, but I'm not one of them, certainly not where Vance is concerned.

Instead of doing what I should to get the courts ready for practice, I sit on the first set of bleachers I come to. My mind seems numb. It's a feeling I recognize too easily. At first, the wound hurt like a bitch whenever I thought about it. It was like being sliced open over and over again. The pain seemed to be neverending. All I could do for weeks was lie in bed and cry.

That urge is still there. It brings numbness after the initial pain. Will it ever not hurt so much? I don't know what's worse: a bearable pain or fresh pain that dies into a numbness. They both seem terrible.

I'm startled when a set of shoes appear in my line of vision. Then, I realize I'm leaning forward with my elbows on my knees as I hug myself. Sitting upright, I see Noah holding out both of his hands, palms up. I take them and he pulls me to stand, immediately wrapping his arms around me.

"You okay?"

"I guess." Having him hold me is starting to make me feel better.

"That's not convincing."

"What did you say to her?" I ask, tilting my head to look up at him.

"It's not important. She should be nicer to you now."

"I wish I could've been the one to tell her off, but she finally had ammunition to use that hit me instead of bouncing off. I couldn't think of anything to say back to her."

"If it makes you feel better, I had plenty to say to her, and I said it all."

"Thanks."

Noah gives me a soft kiss. "Now, what can I help you with?"

He helps me set up the courts with drills, ball machines, and other equipment needed. I can tell by the look on Erica's face when she brings me my clipboard that Noah told her what happened with my pregnancy. She doesn't say she's sorry, but it's written all over her face. Noah is like my shadow, standing behind me and watching silently.

The girls seem to arrive and notice him all at once.

"O.M.G. It's Noah Ramsey!" Carrie squeals. She rushes and hugs him before she can be stopped.

"I'm just here to watch," he explains. The girls don't care and quickly introduce themselves to him. I start to usher them away to start their stretches when I hear, "You must be Kira." She's the only one left and she hasn't introduced herself yet.

Kira looks at me with wide eyes. "You told him about me?"

"Her first day, I came home late from a road trip. You were the first thing she told me about," Noah tells her. "I've heard about you ever since. It's nice to finally meet you."

"You, too," she says to him before turning to me. "Ginny is going to freak."

"You can get a selfie with him later to send to her. Go stretch." When she's gone and while I take attendance, I say to Noah, "I think they were more excited to see you than they were me."

"Doubtful. You're a legend to them; I'm only a hockey hunk."

Hearing him call himself that makes me burst out into laughter. It draws the attention of the girls, so I stop. "Go sit somewhere. You're a distraction and I doubt Erica appreciates it." Otherwise, he's going to be making comments and I'll probably want to kiss him at some point.

"Fine." Noah kisses my temple before going to sit on the bleachers.

I swear one of the girls says _aw_. Once he's taken his seat, Erica casually makes her way over to me. There's nothing casual about it, though. She rarely comes to talk to me at this point. She stands next to me, and Noah watches us. She obviously didn't want him around for what she has to say, so we both seem to be on guard.

Erica keeps her eyes on the girls as they now run around the courts. "I just wanted to say that I'm sincerely sorry for everything. I do have a habit of being a bitch, but usually to a person who deserves it. You didn't, and you were the closest target for me. I apologize. I honestly don't know if I can be friendly, but I can and will be civil."

A _thank you_ is on the tip of my tongue, but no way am I thanking her for finally being nice to me. "That works for me," I reply.

"Good." She walks away to her usual place.

Noah is still watching and I give him a smile to let him know everything is okay.

Erica keeps her word. She even goes so far as to pair the girls for doubles like I suggested. Finally, I'm an equal contributor. I nearly choked on my own spit when she asked me for my opinion. I wasn't expecting that, even though she said she would be civil. While I wish I had been the one to rip into Erica, I'm glad Noah did. A weight has disappeared from my shoulders and I'm able to enjoy my work so much more now.

On the way home, my mom calls.

"You're getting married this summer?" That's the first thing she says.

"That's what he keeps saying, but I'm still ring-free. Wait. How do you know about that?" I turn in my seat to Noah. "How does my mom know you want to get married this summer?"

"I mentioned it when I called her," he answers. I stare at him. The only thing that's happened is Vance coming down and Noah learning of my past. Surely, he wouldn't have called my mother to tell her before I could. "All I did was tell her I knew and that she could stop worrying about you so much."

"That's true," Mom says in my ear. "You don't know how worried we were; he does. All he did was tell me that you are okay and you'll be okay and I can let some of my worrying go."

"Oh, well, okay." That's fine, I guess.

"Do we need to start planning a wedding?"

"No. I'm not planning anything until I'm engaged."

"It's going to happen, Mere," Noah says. "Start planning. You'll be engaged soon enough."

"What are you going to do? Propose the day of?"

He cuts me a sidelong glare. "No. You plan the wedding; I'll plan the proposal. Pick a date in July or August."

"This is so backward."

"At least he's giving you some extra time. Most people don't plan until they are engaged, but since he's essentially giving you less than a year, it's good to get a head start," Mom tells me. "Do you guys want to get married down there or up here or somewhere else?"

"Where are we getting married?" I ask him.

"Back home," he says the answer I was hoping for.

"Good. I was hoping he'd say that," Mom says.

"Let's do August then. And Mom?"

"Yes, Meredith?"

"I'm coming home for Thanksgiving." It's not but a few weeks away. I guess I should ask Noah what his schedule is, but talking to my mom and knowing Noah has already talked to them a little bit makes me want to go home and tell them. My plan was to ask them to come down, but I have a sudden yearning to be back in the house I grew up in.

"We can't wait."

Who would've thought that I'm actually looking forward to it, too?

***

HOW DO YOU plan a proposal when your girlfriend knows it's coming? That has to be the worst decision I've ever made: telling her that I would propose. Now, instead of simply surprising her, I have to think of a way to surprise her in such a way where she doesn't know something is up. At first wind of something unusual, she's going to suspect what's about to happen. I want to catch her completely off guard. How in the hell do I plan something like that?

This thinking leads me to call my sister once Meredith has left for work. I haven't talked to her much lately, so it's time for me to call anyway.

"What do you want?" she answers with the sound of Nicholas wailing in the background.

"That's no way to greet your brother."

"It is when he can't tell his sister he's back with his no-good ex or that there's apparently going to be a wedding in the summer!" Looks like she may be more dissatisfied than my mother.

"Don't call her no-good. We're happy and you're going to either be happy about it or keep that shit to yourself." The last thing I want is to have a pair of Negative Nancys in my ear, especially when they don't know what I know and they don't see what I see when it comes to Meredith. I think one reason why it bothers Ashley so much is that she and Meredith became friends when we dated back in high school. I lost my girlfriend, but Ashley lost one of her best friends. Meredith abandoned all of us.

"You can't tell me when to let go of a grudge," she grumbles as Nicholas's crying seems to have died down.

"Are we going to discuss this or are you going to help me with my problem?"

"What problem?" All the anger has left her voice.

Most brothers and sisters probably hate each other at some point, and we had our fair share when we were younger, but ever since I left home for hockey, my sister and I have become close. She's my go-to when my problems involve a girl. Sometimes, I'll talk to my parents, but always Ashley first.

"Since you know about the wedding, I'm assuming you also know I haven't proposed yet."

"You want to ask me for advice on something involving _Meredith_? What part about me holding a grudge did you miss, Noah?"

"Do you want me to be happy?" I snap the question at her, reaching my limit of hearing about this. If I can get over it, she sure as hell can too.

Ashley sighs and I hear a giggle from the baby. "Fine. What's your problem?"

"How do I surprise her with a proposal she knows is coming? She already knows I have a ring, she's seen it, and she knows I'm planning a proposal. How can I surprise her?"

She takes a minute to think. "The only thing I can think of is if you carried the ring around all the time and whenever there's a moment when it just hits you how much you love her, drop down on one knee in the middle of whatever's happening and pop the question. Don't plan it. Just do it when you can't imagine waiting another second because you love her so much."

"Your advice is to not plan it and be completely spontaneous?"

"Do you know of another way to be so sneaky in order to surprise her?" My silence answers her question. "So you've forgiven her for everything?"

"I've been waiting for her to come back since the day she left. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds too easy and simple."

That sentence stays with me long after our conversation ends. Some of it has been easy, like us reconnecting rather seamlessly, but there have been bumps too. From me panicking over her leaving for the weekend to her past, not everything has been easy or simple. Meredith feels more secure now that she has a plan, so the hard part is behind us, right?

God, I hope so.

From the moment I saw Meredith play and smile from her victory, I've wanted her. Then I got to know her and fell head over skates for her. She's always been the one. Any attempt at moving forward was a poor one because none of the girls were Mere. There were some good ones that made me feel guilty that I still thought about Meredith as often as I did. Even through the breakup, I held on as tightly as I could from following her career, still talking to her parents, and even attending a few of her matches.

There are parts of her past that bother me when I think about them, but there's no use in dwelling on it. Everything has worked out. I make my way into our bedroom and to our closet, grabbing the old shoebox. Finding the ring is easy. I set the shoebox back on the shelf and open the ring box.

She deserves better than the ring I was able to purchase when I was eighteen. It's too simple, too small. But I understand why she wants this one instead of a new one. I'm glad I kept it. Meredith would probably freak if I'd told her I nearly threw the damn thing away after I thought I saw her on campus and screwed up with the redhead by saying Meredith's name by accident. I was so pissed with myself, but more at Meredith. I had the ring in my hand, ready to toss it into a river near campus, but I just couldn't do it.

"What are you doing?"

I nearly throw the box at Marc. "What the hell?"

"I texted and said I was coming over. You didn't answer, but door was unlocked. That for me?" He smirks.

"No." I hand the box to him and push him out of my bedroom and to the living room. When I see Leo curled up on the couch where I left him, I say, "You're a terrible guard dog."

"He stood up and then laid back down," Marc says, popping the ring box open. "This is the ring you're going to give Meredith?" he asks with an incredulous tone as we sit down on the couch.

"Shut the hell up. I bought that when I was eighteen. She's seen it and that's the one she wants. She wouldn't let me talk her out of it."

"Not even to add more stones? She could at least let you upgrade it. This is pitiful."

I reach over to punch him in the arm and snatch the ring back, slipping the box into my pocket. "Well, it's what she wants, so shut up."

"So, you're going to propose?"

"Yeah, at some point. Keep next August clear so you can be my best man. That's plenty of notice for you to find a date."

"It won't kill me to go solo." Marc is a bit of an oddball. He rather go alone than ask a random chick to go to an event with him. He's all about having a serious relationship. Flings aren't in his vocabulary, which is why I was shocked as hell when he said he slept with a stranger on Halloween.

"You ever find that girl?" I ask.

"Unfortunately not. I asked a few of the guys, but apparently, none of them even remember seeing her. I don't understand how so many guys missed seeing a woman as hot as she looked. I give up."

The door to the apartment opens again and we both turn to see Meredith coming in. All of a sudden, Marc is in my lap, his arms around my shoulders, and he's squealing. Meredith starts laughing.

"What are you guys doing?" she asks, coming to stand in front of us.

Marc grabs her wrist and pulls her into his lap. "He just asked me to be his best man at the wedding and I was overcome with excitement." He smacks a kiss on her cheek.

"You're really going to have to stop doing that, Marco," I say.

"Polo," Meredith adds with a grin.

"And get off of me."

"I can't because Meredith is in my lap."

That makes Meredith stand and step aside. The moment she's out of the way, I push him off my lap and into the floor. Marc laughs while Meredith shakes her head at me.

"Don't be so mean, Noah," she says, reaching her hands out to help Marc stand. He lets her even though he has no reason to. He grins as he slides an arm around her waist. She looks at him. "I'm glad you're going to be our best man." Then she _hugs_ him.

"We have to keep her," Marc says as he turns their hug into a bear hug. "Can she be my date to the wedding?"

"I think that would give people the wrong impression. Plus, I do have a date already." Meredith giggles and I just don't understand what's happening before my eyes.

"I don't think we'll keep _you_ ," I tell Marc.

"No, we have to," Meredith interrupts his reply. "He's my favorite."

"Don't say that, Mere," I groan as a ridiculous grin appears on Marc's face. I'll never be able to get rid of him unless Meredith wants him to go to because I know he'll remind me of what she just said.

"I can't help it. You picked a good friend."

"That's it," Marc declares. "I'm claiming her as family. You, Meredith, get to be the sister I never wanted, but now am glad to have."

Suddenly, Marc releases his hold on Meredith and holds his hands up in surrender. Meredith shakes her head and glances at me. He's brought tears to her eyes. Marc can't stand tears. He swears it brings out his inner knight in shining armor who must fix everything that's wrong. He nudges her toward me, but she turns and hugs him.

"Right back at ya," I hear her whisper.

"Okay, end the love fest before I throw up or punch Marco in the face," I say as I stand. "Let's go out to eat."

But first, we have to take Leo for a walk. Meredith promises she'll be done with her shower in five minutes. Marc and I take Leo for his walk in the meantime.

"Would you really punch me?" he asks.

I laugh. "Maybe if you were particularly annoying. I know a large part of how you are with Meredith is to piss me off, but I also know you're basically going to be a brother-in-law to her. We just need to get you a woman before you start having funny thoughts about mine."

I'm half-serious because how can anyone _not_ fall in love with Meredith, but it's good that Marc knows I'm joking too. He laughs. "Trust me, I can't think about anyone but Ivy, or whatever her name is. This is why flings are a bad idea." He groans and runs his hand through his hair.

"Man, you've got it bad."

"I know!" he grits with frustration. "It's fucking stupid because there wasn't anything of substance about our conversation and the sex was in my fucking truck and way too short. What is there to continue thinking about? But I'll be damned if those hazel eyes aren't haunting me every chance they get. I swear, if I ever see that woman again, she's not going to be able to run away from me."

"Well, good luck with that."

We make our way back to the apartment where we find Meredith trying to fluff her wet hair. I'm surprised she's ready. Why couldn't she be that fast back in high school? We'd have more time to make out. She puts Leo in his crate and then we're leaving for a fun dinner, where I notice her absentmindedly rubbing her shoulder often.

It makes me think I was right. She's been getting back into the groove of training and her body just can't handle it anymore. If she keeps on, she's going to do more harm to her shoulder. At some point, I'm going to have to mention it to her.

Based on our last conversation, I'm dreading when the time comes for that. It's there in the back of my mind that an argument over how I think she should stop her training and officially retire could possibly be disastrous to our relationship. Anxiety begins to build inside me. Meredith left me to pursue her career.

Who's to say she won't do it again when I tell her I disapprove of her trying to make her comeback? She's so damn determined to try. She's made a decent enough attempt and it's not working. This stays on my mind into the next morning. When Meredith leaves for her PT session, I call the therapist I referred her to.

"Hello?"

"Hey, this is Noah Ramsey; I sent Meredith Quick to you."

"Oh, yes. How can I help you?"

"Are you able to tell me anything about her sessions?"

There's a brief pause. "Your name is listed as someone I can discuss her progress with, but I'm afraid I can't tell you much. She hasn't been to a session in two weeks."

Fuck. "Does she have an appointment with you this morning?"

"No."

Damn it! "Based on working with her, do you think her shoulder can handle her returning to play professionally?"

The woman clears her throat. "No. I told her this as well. She can do a few things, but if her shoulder could handle her playing pro again, her PT would have ended by now. Frankly, I think she could use some more sessions. If she starts trying to get back into shape and ready to play, she's going to damage her shoulder more. What strength she's recovered will start to disappear and she'll start having issues again."

"Thank you for answering my questions."

"No problem."

We hang up and my worrying expands greatly. She's stopped attending PT. She's probably training instead. Somehow, I'm going to have to bring this up to her at some point. I just hope I don't lose her when I do.

Friday is here before I know it. Aside from hockey, I spent time with Leo while Meredith was at work and sneaking off to train. Once, I went to a tennis match and watched those girls play hard. It was fantastic to watch Meredith in her element. I'm really hoping I can convince her to offer private lessons. She can do that, even if she doesn't play. I wish she'd agree to do that and start obsessively planning how she would do it. It would be a relief to watch her plan things again.

That is such a huge part of Meredith's personality. She would even try to plan things for me when we were together in high school. That was one of her reasons as to why I shouldn't get her name tattooed on my chest. She thought I was being impulsive and that freaked her out just as much as if it was _her_ who woke up and wanted to get my name tattooed onto her body.

There was nothing impulsive about it. Well, there was a little bit. The difference is any impulsive decisions I make are based on my gut reaction, which usually pays off. Meredith often makes impulsive decisions because she's scrambling for a short-term solution to make her feel better. Like coming here and then getting Leo. Luckily, those paid off for her.

Tonight, we're playing a team from Texas. It's going to be a tough matchup. Meredith is supposed to leave practice to have dinner with Sylvia and Theresa before coming here and catching a ride home with me. I'm glad she's making friends with some of the women. She's enjoyed taking a photo of us every other day for my social media thing, too, sometimes posting on her own instead. They're trying to talk me into Twitter, but I keep saying no. One account is enough for me right now.

Pregame rituals are soon over and we're standing on the ice, waiting for the national anthem to be sung. I bend my head with my eyes closed as if in prayer. For a brief moment, a touch of guilt plagues me. Being able to stand on a slab of ice with the logo of a pro team in the middle, with that same logo on my chest, is a dream come true for me. Every time I put on clothes with such a logo on, be it a uniform, a hoodie, T-shirt, or gym shorts, a thrill runs through me. It never gets old.

Meredith doesn't have this.

My guilt dissipates knowing she's found an alternative that makes her equally happy, even though she's clinging on to her pro career.

The moment that last note begins to fade, my mind turns to hockey and my job. It's like a cue for my body to start pumping adrenaline. The crowd roars as we prepared for the center ice face-off. Admittedly, there's a lot of green, but there seems to be an equal amount of navy as well. It's a fast game right off the bat with us going from one end to the other and back, chasing whoever has the puck.

Unfortunately, our speed isn't very fast, especially not compared to the opposition. I take a seat on the bench since my shift has ended and two seconds later, I see Savage scrambling to get back into position. It takes him a second too long. The puck bounces, wobbling from side to side and dances across the red line.

Down one-zero.

Not a great start.

***

THE GAME DIDN'T start well and it continues to go poorly. The other team is just better. Noah doesn't really deserve his nickname tonight. He's getting rammed way more than the other guys. There's sure to be some bruises popping up tomorrow.

During the second intermission, I get a call from an unfortunately familiar number.

Vance.

Seeing his number makes me close my eyes and sigh.

"You okay?" I hear Sylvia ask.

"Yeah, I just need to take this." I stand and walk into the hallway. "Hello."

"Hey," he says.

"What do you want, Vance?"

"I feel terrible."

"You should," I curtly respond. "You didn't need to call and tell me that."

He sighs. It's a sigh I know well. Funny how he can go from feeling terrible to being agitated by me. "I'm trying to be nice."

"I don't need you to be nice, Vance. You broke up with me simply because I was going through the hardest time in my _entire_ life at that point. Then, when I came to tell you something you should know, you called me a liar because you were so far up your own ass that I just _had_ to be lying. You should feel terrible and guilty and downright disgusted with yourself. I'm sorry if I can't manage to conjure any sympathy for you and your actions."

"Maybe I was wrong—"

" _Maybe?_ "

"But you should've told me what happened instead of having me hunt you down to find out."

My spine straightens and I wish he was here, so I could punch him. There's a touch of hysteria in my tone from the fury beginning to consume me. " _I_ was supposed to tell you about something you didn't even think was _real_? Are you kidding me? As far as you were concerned, there was no baby, so why would I tell you that you got your fucking wish?"

"I didn't wish the baby didn't exist," he says, but I interrupt him again.

"Bull. Shit. You said you didn't want anything to do with my fake baby." The last part comes out in a vehement whisper because someone is walking by.

"I didn't mean that."

"Now, Vance, _now_ you don't mean it. You sure as hell meant it when you packed my bags and kicked me out. I'm wish I could say I'm sorry that you grew a conscience, but I'm not. I hope the guilt eats you alive and swallows you whole. You deserve it." I hang up and walk back to Sylvia before I have a chance to feel guilty about it.

The third period has started, and we're down four to one. At least the guys seem to have their legs under them now. I don't know how much good it'll do them, but anything can happen.

"Are you okay?" Sylvia asks.

I give her a false smile. "I'm fine."

She studies me for a moment before resuming the topic we were discussing. "So, a group of us is planning a charity fashion show for the end of January. Do you want to be involved? It'll be on a Saturday night. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, but you can be as involved as you want to be."

My first instinct is to say no. I should be ashamed of myself. What kind of person says no to helping out with a charity event? But if it is on a Saturday, then I don't have to worry about interference with my job. In the back of my mind, I'm also thinking of how I don't know what I'll be doing then. However, Sylvia said I don't have to get too involved.

"Sure," I say before I can talk myself out of it. "Just tell me how I can help, and I'll do my best."

Practically the only friend I have smiles big. "Awesome! It's going to be so much fun. We'll wear clothes we have to return and get our makeup and hair done professionally. It'll be great."

She goes on to explain what has already been accomplished. The game ends without any additional goals being scored. Sylvia heads out early since she needs to go home to the twins. A few of the other wives leave, so I don't have anyone to talk to. Sylvia and Theresa are are only two who have befriended me so far. Sylvia is definitely the most friendly of the bunch, though.

My mind wanders to my conversation with Vance. Why do I feel bad about what I said? I can't be that nice of a person. Everything I said was true. Maybe now that he's let me know he feels bad and is mad that I didn't tell him sooner, he can move on without needing to contact me again.

"Mere?"

I jump at the sound of Noah's voice, turning in my seat to see him as he leans down to kiss me. "Hey." I smile once he pulls away.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." I stand and take the hand he holds out. "Sorry about the rough game."

"They happen," he replies simply. "What were you thinking about? Before I got your attention?"

"Vance called me." His hand reflexively squeezes mine, so I decide to continue before he can get riled up. "He said he felt terrible, I got mad and said some things, he said I should've told him sooner, and I told him he deserved all the guilt he felt and hung up. It's bothering me for some reason."

Noah stops us from walking just before we reach the elevator. "If he happens to call again, ignore him. You officially have no reason to be in contact with him and he you. Don't let it bother you. What's happened happened. You're here, you're with me, and we're moving forward; that's all you need to focus on."

I roll my eyes to lighten the suddenly serious air between us. "I didn't need that reminder, Noah. I was just answering your question."

He presses the button for the elevator while letting go of my hand to sling it low around my waist. He squeezes. "I know what you were doing, and you did need the reminder because you said it was bothering you." The doors open and we step into the elevator. "Catch me up on your day," he says, making me smile at his ability to change the subject.

"Dinner was good. Sylvia decided to wait until the last minute to ask me to help out with the charity fashion show the women are putting together."

"Are you going to help?"

"Yeah, I think so."

My answer gets me a smile. "Good."

"Sylvia said you would be there."

"Yeah, they'll make us go."

I laugh as we step off the elevator. "Make you? You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"It's not; just saying it'll be strongly suggested we go. There's three things that will bring all the guys together: hockey, a party, and something for charity. No one will mind attending."

That relieves me. It's almost like I'm three years old and can't do anything without someone doing it with me. At that age, it was one of my parents. Now, it's Noah. With this instance, at least.

"How was PT?" he asks once we're on the way home.

His question shouldn't make me uneasy, but it does. PT would probably be fine if I'd have gone. "I didn't go. I'm finished with it." Which is true because _I'm_ done with it, whether or not the therapist thinks so or not.

"So, what's the plan now?"

"To keep training and get back into shape."

"Is that a realistic plan? You've been rubbing your shoulder a lot lately. The PT thinks you can handle it?"

"Of course," I lie.

"Mere," Noah starts and it sounds like he's controlling his anger. I glance over at him to see a clenched jaw and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Don't lie to me. I know it has to be hard to realize it's time to retire, but you need to reach that point. There is no use in making your shoulder worse, to skip your PT sessions, and then to lie to me about it. Your shoulder has been bothering you because you're pushing yourself for something that isn't going to happen."

"You don't know that! If there's a chance, I should try."

"But there's not a chance, Mere!" he fires back. "You've regained some strength in your shoulder, but it's still too weak to deal with what it takes to play professionally. You know this because you've been in pain. I've seen you rub it and take pain relievers when you don't think I'm paying attention. It's time to officially retire."

"How do you even know I'm skipping?" I ask to avoid thinking about what he said.

"Because I called and talked to the physical therapist when I first noticed you rubbing your shoulder. And let me say that I'm thrilled you chose to hide it and lie about it."

"What if it was you? What if—" He doesn't even let me finish.

"If it was time, I'd walk away, and I damn sure wouldn't lie to my future wife about it."

Finally, I shut up. He doesn't know what he'd do, considering he hasn't faced that kind of decision yet. I'm done talking about it. It's not his decision to make whether I retire or not. It's mine. I shouldn't have lied to him. I knew that the moment I first did and immediately felt guilty about it. But this has to be _my_ decision and I'm not ready to make it.

That's seriously what it comes down to.

I'm not ready to let my career go. I'm not ready, and the thought of officially making that decision scares me a hell of a lot more than the thought of injuring my shoulder more.

The last thing I want or need is for Noah to start pushing me.

We're silent the rest of the way home. The first thing I do when we get there is get Leo and take him for a walk. Come Monday, I'm calling my coach and bringing him here. My shoulder is fine. Yeah, it hurts and I've noticed some numbness, but if I miss any more time, it's going to be worse than it already is.

The longer I'm out, the harder it will be to return. I need to do that one last thing before I can accept my fate.

Where all I'm able to do is be an assistant coach or offer private lessons.

How can I give up on what's been my life's purpose? On what I gave Noah up to pursue? Our time apart might as well be a waste if this is how my career ends. How do I accept defeat? I just can't wrap my mind around it. Impulsively, I go ahead and text my coach. It would be a relief that he responds right away if not for the message.

**Coach:** _It's been so long, I assumed you were unofficially retired. Updates from your PT in Pittsburgh said it was unlikely you could return. Has something changed?_

I sigh as I walk back in the apartment.

"Are you leaving?" Noah asks from the couch. He looks like hell. What happened while I was walking Leo?

"Why would I?" I unhook him from his leash.

"You couldn't play tennis and be with me last time, so considering I don't support what you're doing, I'm assuming you're going to walk away again. This probably isn't your ideal place to train anyway."

All I can do is stare at him. He knew my game plan was to go back. However, I've told him that I want to be with him and that I wasn't ever walking away again. He insists on ignoring that in instances such as these. His question doesn't deserve an answer. I pick Leo up and storm into the guest bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me.

He has some nerve to ask me that. After all we've been through, after everything I've told him, he still thinks I'm going to walk away. I'd rather retire than do that!

"It's a legit question, Mere," I hear from the other side of the door as I sit on the edge of the bed, petting Leo.

"It's Meredith, and no, it's not!"

"Yes, it is," he opens the door, but doesn't come in any further. "If you're going all in on your career again, why wouldn't I think you'd walk away from me? Especially since I'm telling you I don't support your decision. I think I have the right to know what I'm facing and what we're facing. I thought I had you back _here_ with me. There's a difference between that and long distance. Have you even thought this through? Thought about what it may to do us? To your shoulder? Are you just going to quit at the high school, even though you committed to be there for the year? Are you okay with leaving Kira and the other girls you're helping? Have you planned this?"

"Stop it!" My heart is hammering and I try to focus on Leo. I hate that he's right; I haven't planned anything. I've been acting impulsively. What am I doing? It feels like I'm back at square one, completely lost and not knowing what to do. I need my anger back, not this all-consuming fear. "Let's focus on how the first thing you asked me was if I was leaving." Even that has to be better than my career ending.

"I'm sorry. I was still pissed about you lying to me."

I sigh and softly ask, "Can we not talk about this tonight?" It's been a long day and even longer night. I'm tired. My future looks unsettled again, and I don't want to think about it anymore.

Noah comes over, gets down on his knees, and places Leo on the floor before taking my hands. "I love you, Mere. I just got you back, and trust me, I don't want to argue about this with you. But the conversation needs to happen. We're supposed to get married next August; why are you lying to me?"

Stupid tears leak from my eyes. "Because I knew you wouldn't approve, and I wanted to see for myself."

"The _only_ reason I don't approve is because you aren't taking care of yourself by doing it. That's it. If you _could_ , I would completely support you, but you can't, Mere," he finishes quietly.

"I'm not ready," I whisper.

"No one ever is."

"I just want to make sure I don't have any regrets."

"I get that, I do," he says as he comes to sit next to me.

"But?" I begrudgingly ask.

"You shouldn't have any regrets, Mere. You've tried your best. You've tried to tough it out. You've bided your time and hoped your shoulder would heal enough so you can play. You've done everything you possibly can. It's time to start focusing on the next step of your life."

He's right. I hate it, but he's right. Hopefully, it'll be as easy as he makes it sound.

***

MEREDITH HAS BEEN understandably mopey now that it's finally hit her that her career has ended. She even skipped my game tonight to babysit Scotty's twins in hopes that it will cheer her up. Based on finding her cuddled on the couch with Leo, I'm guessing it didn't help at all.

"Scoot," I demand. She moves forward just enough for me to lie down behind her. "Your life isn't over, you know."

"Shut the hell up, Noah," she halfheartedly tells me.

"Well, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking. Or, I can tell you what I'm thinking."

She takes a deep breath, quiet for a moment as she gathers her thoughts. "I just...I keep thinking about how I gave _you_ up for such a short career. My entire life, all of my decisions, were for this _one_ thing, and it's gone. Just like that. What am I supposed to do with that?" Meredith rolls over to face me. "Put yourself in my shoes, Noah. What if you had to retire tomorrow without any notice?"

"I'm not saying that it's not hard, I know it is and that it will be, even if it was planned. It's going to suck whether I know it's coming or not. My point has been that you should try to focus on the positive things that come with not having it anymore. You get to spend more time with me. Your schedule is practically wide open. You can go see your parents whenever you want. You had a great career; it was nearly all highs. You've found something else that you are enjoying, and I've already told you that I think you should offer private lessons. There _is_ a life after tennis. You can make it as fulfilling and worthwhile as you want."

Meredith nods in agreement. "There was just so much more I wanted to accomplish," she whispers.

"I know," I reply as quietly.

"You'll build new dreams with me?"

I fake a scoff. "Are you kidding me? You don't even have to ask, Mere. Did I or did I not tell you what our future looked like? Those are our foundation dreams, just the beginning. I'm not going anywhere."

"Me either." She's distracted by Leo as he wiggles closer to our faces. Those green eyes have that spark I missed so much when her gaze settles on mine. "You know that, right? I feel like you're holding your breath for something to happen that's going to cause me to turn and walk away again. I'm not going to do that. Promise. I even...I'm even kinda glad that it's gotten through to me that my pro career is over because it won't take me away from you. You don't trust me yet considering what happened yesterday. I've given you all my secrets, Noah. I'm still right here. What's it going to take?"

She's right. I still worry about her leaving somewhat. "Are you going to be pissed if I tell you that I feel better knowing you're retired? You walked away for your career and with that being gone, your new adventures aren't going to lead you away from me like tennis did. That's why I was an ass to you last night. It was a panic-induced reaction mixed with a flashback." I squeeze her hip. "I can't lose you twice, Mere."

"You won't." I search her gaze and find that I believe her. She leans in, kisses me once, and smiles. "I love you."

"Love you more."

I have the day off before we leave tomorrow for an away game Tuesday in New York. "What are you doing?" I ask, taking a seat next to her on the couch. She has a pen and paper in her lap.

"Well, my career is over, and who knows how long I'll be working with Erica, so I decided to make a list of questions I need to answer if I'm going to do private lessons."

"What kind of questions?"

"Like where will the lessons be held? When am I going to have time that will work for me and the other person? How should it be advertised? Will I have an assistant for the days my shoulder is bothering me? What age groups do I want? Do I want one-on-one or groups or both? Tons of stuff."

"Think you'll be happy with that?"

She takes a deep breath. "Yeah. I do love what I do, so I think that can make me happy, too. Honestly, I haven't missed playing too much. I've just felt lost without it."

"Have you decided how you'll formally announce your retirement?"

"No. Can I not and fade into the background? If I announce, I'll probably cry, and who wants that?"

"Definitely not me."

She laughs.

"Up to going out with me today?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Noah Ramsey?" She grins.

"Are you accepting?"

"Yes." She leans over to give me a quick kiss and gets up. "I'll go shower."

I stand to follow her. "I'll join you."

"I thought the sex was supposed to come after the date?"

"We're an established couple, not some people just starting out. This means we can have sex before _and_ after the date."

Meredith laughs as we walk into the bathroom. She starts taking her clothes off while I turn the water on. Leo comes in and curls up on the rug in front of the sink. Damn dog can't even let her shower alone. When hands reach out to grab my shirt, I turn my attention back to Meredith, who is now naked and trying to get me the same way.

"Guess what other kind of list I started," she says once she's pulled my shirt off. She lets her fingers dance along my chest while I work on my pushing my pants down.

"What?" I ask.

A spectacular grin appears. "A wedding to-do. There's already something on it for you."

I step out of my pants, now naked, and pull her flush against me. We're probably going to be late to our date. I'm in the mood to take my sweet time with this body. "Is it to have sex with you every day?"

"No." She steps away from me and into the shower.

I follow after and watch the water fall down her body. It's always amazed me how Meredith has never been self-conscious around me. Even when we were in high school, she wasn't shy about undressing in front of me. It was a huge turn on that she was so brazen, but now that we're older, I think it's simply because she trusts me with herself. I hope she's always that way.

"You need to start looking for a house for us."

My gaze snaps up to her. "I will, but I want us to hold off."

Meredith's hand freezes as she reaches for the soap. "Why?"

"As of right now, I don't even know if I'll be in Carolina next year. I just want us to wait and see what happens with my contract. We don't need to buy a house to have to turn right around and sell it. That's all I mean."

"Well, that makes sense."

"Of course it does." She laughs, and I add, "Time for you to kiss me before I change my mind about this date." That causes her to laugh again as she leans in to kiss me.

"I love you," she whispers.

"I love you more."

Her hands lower to wrap around me. Fuck, she feels good. She'll feel even better once I'm inside her. I swat her hands away and grab the back of her thighs, which lock around my waist. This is my woman. The only woman I've ever loved, and she'll be the only woman I'll ever marry. She'll be the only one I'll have kids with. She'll be the only one I share my life with, the only one I'll put up with, and the only one I'll love until the day I die. There's nothing more I could ask for.

After our long shower where the water ran cold, I walk Leo while she finishes getting ready. Our first stop is the movies. No lie, the last time I went to the movies was with Meredith. Things have gotten more expensive in that time period, too. Meredith picks the movie, which ends up being a sad one where the love interest dies right after they're finally happy. That's apparently a good movie, according to Meredith.

Next stop is to the best pizza place in Raleigh. Mere takes a pic of us to post in her Insta-thing. She hasn't been able to stop smiling since our shower, and it's such a good sight to see. I don't think she's realized how she's already transitioned into a life without her pro career. She's found and is pursuing a new passion, she's mostly adjusted to having more time in her schedule, and she's dealing with it well.

"I was thinking of stopping by Ashley's before Thanksgiving Day when I go home to see my parents," Meredith says.

I raise an eyebrow. "Yeah? Think that's a good idea?"

"Don't look at me like that!" She playfully shoves my shoulder. "I don't know if it's a good idea, but I feel like I owe her an apology. Your whole family, really. I walked away from them and I hurt you. Maybe if I own up to my faults and apologize, it'll help them like me sooner."

"Are you worried about that again, Mere?"

"Not really," she answers slowly, shifting her focus to her pizza before flicking those eyes back to me. "But wouldn't it be nice if they were genuinely happy for us by a particular month next year?"

She has a point.

"If you want to do it, I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't. We'll both make it home for Christmas, so if you want me there, you can wait until then."

Meredith shrugs. "We'll see how my visit goes. What are we doing after this?"

"Going to the practice rink to skate. Think you'll be able to stay on your feet?"

Her head tilts. "Are we on a date from high school?"

"Maybe. What's wrong with that?"

"Shouldn't our dates be more adult-like?"

"Do you want to go to some stuffy restaurant and to a wine tasting or something like that?"

"Maybe." Her lips struggle to stay neutral, but I see her smile right before she takes a bite of her pizza. She hasn't complained to me, so I'm taking that to mean she doesn't mind. "There's something I want us to do afterward."

"What is it?"

"You'll find out when the time comes," she says with a teasing smile.

"Am I going to like it or want to do it?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. I hope so."

Now, I'm intrigued, but Meredith doesn't give me a chance to ask as she flags our waitress for our bill.

"You can pay," she adds. "Because it's a date and because you're now the breadwinner between the two of us." She laughs, and it's good to hear it. Meredith still has money rolling in from her endorsement deals, plus what she makes with the high school even if it is little in comparison. She won't hurt for money if she knows how to spend and invest it. Not to mention that I do plan to take care of her.

So, I pay our bill and we head to the practice arena. I groan when we find Marc inside.

"Are you seriously encroaching on our date?"

"I'm bored, and I know I'm Meredith's favorite, so yes, I am."

"We need to get you a girlfriend, Marco," Meredith tells him.

"What? You don't want me here?" He pouts and I start ignoring him to put my skates on. Meredith is getting a loaner pair and she can't ever tie them tight enough if memory serves me correctly, so she's only putting them on and waiting for me to do the rest.

"As long as you don't plan on leaving with us. Wait, maybe you should. Then I can have two people hold my hands."

"For what?" we both ask.

"It's a secret for now."

Marc glances at me and I shrug before kneeling down to tie her laces. Once done, we all take the ice. It takes a few minutes before Meredith can get the hang of it again. We do a few laps, with Marc annoying Meredith a bit because he keeps skating circles around her and she loses her footing every time he does.

"Can't you give me a stick to beat him with?" Mere asks me, causing me to laugh.

"Unfortunately not. Team needs him healthy."

"Let's race," Marc says. "Loser pays for dinner next time we go out."

"Are you crazy?" Meredith asks incredulously. "I've seen you two skate. I'm obviously going to be the loser."

Marc grins. "What's wrong with that?"

"We'll give you a ten-second head start," I tell her.

She sighs and nods since I seem to be up for the game. I'm only agreeing to it because I plan for Marc to lose. We line up at center ice because Meredith doesn't want to have to skate from one end to the other. "Any tips?" she asks me.

I lean down and whisper my plan in her ear, low enough that Marc can't hear me. Mere grins and nods. As promised, we give her the ten-second head start before we take off. I'm faster than Marc, so when I'm about to pass Meredith, she holds out her hand. I take it and pull her along with me.

"No fair!" he shouts when we both make it to the boards two seconds before him.

I grin. "Did you set up rules that I wasn't aware of?"

"I figured it was implied that you can't help an opponent."

"Sucks for you." Meredith sticks her tongue out at him. "You're taking us to a fancy restaurant."

"Yeah, yeah. Didn't you have somewhere else you wanted to go?"

"Yes, and you can't come."

My curiosity is starting to get the best of me. "Why don't we leave Marco here by himself and you can show me whatever you want to show me."

Mere smirks. She grazes her fingertips down my chest. "Who says I'm showing you something? We're _doing_ something."

With her hand in mine, we start skating away from Marc. There's only one thing I can even think of right now, and when Meredith laughs and says, "It's not sex," I don't even care. Sex is coming afterward.

"Don't even say bye!" Marc yells.

"Bye, Marco!" Meredith shouts back.

I move fast to take our skates off and hurry us back to my SUV.

"Let me drive," Meredith says. I shrug and hand her the keys. "I'm kind of nervous," she admits as she puts the address into the GPS on her phone.

"Why? What are we doing?" Her being nervous and the fact that she's not telling me yet is starting to make _me_ a little nervous.

"I don't want to tell you yet."

We don't say anything else while she drives. Soon, we're parked in front of a tattoo parlor. I look at Meredith with confusion. Are we in the wrong place?

She grabs my hand until it's touching her ribcage just underneath her left breast. "You have my name." She taps my hand. "I want yours."

For a moment, all I can do is stare at her. She wants my name tattooed on her body? I lean over the console and kiss her hard, my hand moving up to the back of her neck to hold her in place until I'm finished. She nips my lip, causing a series of actions. I unhook her seatbelt, grab her hips, and she helps me out by climbing over. My mouth moves down her neck.

"Noah," Mere whispers.

"Hmm?" I come back to her mouth and slide my tongue against hers. I think I'll kiss her forever. Meredith wiggles in my lap. I groan.

She has to ruin all of my fun by grabbing my shoulders and pulling away from me. "First, we're in your car and we're out in public. Second, we should head inside."

"Are you really doing this? You're sure you want to? It'll hurt. You don't have—"

"I want to do this because I love you," she interrupts me. "You did it for me when I thought you were crazy to do it and you didn't hesitate one bit because you knew the love you had for me would last as long as the tattoo would. You don't understand what it means to me that you still have it and never once thought about covering it up or removing it. I want to do this, Noah." She seems so sure and certain. "I love you," she adds.

What would I do without her? Now that she's back, I can't even picture the past eight years because it simply doesn't seem possible that she wasn't there. It makes me so excited about my future because she's going to be in it. A future with her is the only future there is for me.

"Marry me," I blurt out.

***

MY EYES FEEL like they're about to pop out of their sockets. Noah struggles to reach into his pocket to pull out the ring box. He pops it open and brings his gaze back to mine. My heart is going crazy, feeling as if it's beating erratically, suddenly stopping, and then ramping back up.

"Meredith Quick, will you marry me?"

Why is he even asking? I already have a wedding to-do list! _Of course_ I'm going to marry him! It was stupid of me to tell him he has to ask first.

"Mere?"

I look down at the ring. The ring he bought when we were two dumb teenagers. Well, one of us was dumb. Looks like Noah was smarter than I was.

"Mere," Noah repeats, his impatience taking over, but it causes my eyes to snap up to his.

"Of course I will," I finally answer.

He grins and wastes no time sliding the ring onto my finger. "You had me worried for a second there."

"You caught me off guard, and then I thought it was stupid of you to ask since we're obviously getting married. This is why you propose _first_."

Noah rolls his eyes at me before leaning forward to kiss me. I feel that kiss _all_ over my body. It brings a shiver out of me. There is no doubt in my mind that between the events of the day and the fact that he has a one-game road trip coming, once we get back home, he's going to want to do nothing but fuck.

"Let's get this tattoo over with, so we can go home."

He grins. "I like how you think, Meredith Quick."

Noah opens the door and I get out, ignoring the look of disdain an elderly woman gives us while her husband gives us a toothless grin. Even though this is my idea, Noah takes my hand and leads us inside. The guy told me since the job was so simple I wouldn't need an appointment. They weren't lying either.

It's reassuring to see how clean it is, too. This entire thing has had me worried. The pain from my shoulder is one thing to deal with. Voluntarily doing something that will hurt is somehow different. That's why I'm nervous. While we wait for the tattoo artist to come talk to us, I have to fill out paperwork and let them copy my ID, which reminds me that I need to update my driver's license.

"Hey, you're Noah Ramsey, right?" the guy who walked up to the counter to talk to us asks. He's not completely covered in tattoos, or at least based on his thin white T-shirt. The only ones I can see are covering his arms.

"Yeah, that's me. My girlfriend here wants a tattoo."

He reaches out to shake our hands. "Name is Jay. I'll be inking you." He turns back to Noah. "I was stoked to hear about you coming to Carolina, and you've been playing well for us."

"Thanks. Always nice to meet a fan."

"I'm definitely one of them. What do you want?" he asks me.

"His name in his handwriting right here." I point to where I want it.

His eyebrows shoot up and he glances between us. "I'll risk pissing you both off, but considering what you're wanting, maybe I'll be okay." He looks at Noah. "Is she Meredith?"

Noah laughs. "Yeah, it's her."

"My girlfriend is going to be so disappointed when I tell her this." Jay looks to the receptionist. "Her paperwork done?"

"Yep," she answers, smacking some gum.

I zone out, barely pay attention as Noah talks to Jay as he writes his name so a stencil can be made.

"Mere, you don't have to do it," Noah tells me while we wait for Jay to get his work station and supplies together.

"It's going to hurt."

He laughs. "Well, yeah. It's not too bad, though."

I reach up and tug on his hair. "Don't laugh at me."

He grabs a chunk of my own hair, pulls it to tilt my head back, and then kisses me. "Don't tug on my hair."

A throat clears, Noah lets go, and it's time for my tattoo. Jay directs me to lie on a cushioned table-like piece of furniture. I unhook my bra, move part of it out of the way, and lift my shirt. Noah sits in a chair by my head. I focus my eyes on his brown ones while Jay starts preparing me.

"Black ink, right?"

"Yeah."

"Are you nervous?" he asks as he cleans the area of skin.

"Of course. It's going to hurt."

He laughs at me much like Noah did. "With what you're getting, there will barely be any pain." He stops to lift his elbow. "I mean, it'll be a few minutes compared to hours like mine. But if you need a minute, just let me know."

"Okay."

"How's that look?"

I glance down to see a purple outline of Noah's name. It seems fine to me, but I make Noah check, too. The look on his face is priceless. This is even better than I thought it would be. I wonder if that's how I look when I see his. This might just top my short list of good decisions this year.

"Looks great," Noah finally says. He sits down, kisses me again, and pulls away with a grin. "Love you."

"Love you more," I mutter with a wince as a buzzing sound fills the air. I officially have no clue how I stood by and watched Noah do this. My jaw clenches at the first sign of pain.

"Relax, Mere," Noah quietly orders.

"I am," I grit.

He laughs. "I didn't know you were such a baby."

"I'd rather injure my shoulder again." Okay, it's not _that_ bad, but it's not enjoyable either.

"Hey," Jay starts, getting our attention. "Can I get a pic of you before y'all leave?"

"Absolutely," Noah replies.

"Can you finish the tattoo before fangirling over my boyfriend?" I ask in a sugar-coated tone.

Jay laughs. "I like her," he tells Noah.

"Me too." Noah squeezes my hand. "And Mere, it's fiancé, yeah?"

That gets me to smile. "Right back at ya. You called me your girlfriend just a few minutes ago."

"She's got you there," Jay laughs.

Noah just shakes his head, but it's with a smile. A few minutes later, the tattoo is done, Jay tells me what I need to do to care for it as it heals, and then he gets his picture. Noah also signs a Rebels poster hanging in the lobby.

Just like I thought, Noah drags me to the bedroom when we get home for possibly the best sex ever. Life is better than good. If I could find a word to adequately live up to just how good, I'd use it, but I'm not sure a word exists that could measure up.

Do you know what it took for Noah to download Instagram and make a post?

Me getting a tattoo.

When he came back from New York, where they lost 2-0, he wanted to take a picture of me. He told me, "Lift your shirt and smile." So, I did. I had to tell him how to tag me and we didn't even discuss hashtags because when I merely mentioned it, he was confused. He posted it with the caption of, "Her name has been on my chest since I was eighteen. Never expected she'd do the same. Love my fiancée." I told him how he could add a heart, too, so he put that at the end.

That picture has gotten more likes than any of his others. I had to tell him how to turn the notifications off because he started cussing when his phone kept showing notifications at the top. I don't know if he'll keep it up, but if he never posts again, we still made progress. I also warned him about comments. People sometimes feel the need to share their opinion, especially when they don't know your life, and it's often best to not even look.

"How did it feel to get a tattoo?" Kira asks me as we work on her shots closer to the net after practice.

"Are you stalking us on Instagram?"

She gives me a sheepish smile. "Ginny showed me."

"Well, it hurt." Kira laughs. "Hey, I have an idea to throw at you."

"Okay," she answers slowly.

"I'm thinking of offering private lessons, but I want someone who doesn't have the same restrictions as I do to be my assistant. I don't have a lot of details yet because I'm still figuring it out. I was wondering if you'd be interested."

Kira's jaw drops. "Really?"

"Yeah. Just something to think about. You'd get paid, of course, and we can go over details once I know more. I'm sure this is something you should talk about with your mom."

"Yeah, I will. I'm sure she won't mind as long as it doesn't interfere with school."

"Great." She gives me her email address, so I can send details. Having this one part sort of finalized makes me want to hurry up and finish my planning. Kira would be a great help, I'm certain of it.

About twenty minutes later, we wrap things up for the day and we each head home. Erica frowned when she saw me, her gaze dropping to my hand. My love life seems to be what everyone is concerned with. Some of the girls apparently follow Noah's account and I could tell by the expressions on their faces that they were unimpressed with my ring. I felt no need to defend it. Noah bought that ring when we were teenagers and I think about that every time I look at it or feel it rub against my skin. I don't care one bit that it's not some huge, showy diamond. It's our history, our beginning, and I want it to be a part of our present and future.

Noah is sitting on the couch while Marc sits at the other end with his feet on the coffee table. Both are playing a video game. When Noah sees Leo be brave by jumping off the couch, he realizes I'm home. He tosses his controller aside to stand and walk over to me.

"Hey." I smile.

He doesn't say anything. He cups my face and steals my breath with his kiss. His tongue charges forward into my mouth and tangles with mine like it's some long-lost friend. My fingers dig into his waist. I lean into him, but then hear an explosion coming from the TV. I pull away with a laugh before we get carried away since Marc is here and Leo is jumping up against my leg, waiting to be acknowledged.

"What was that for?" I ask, picking Leo up to kiss him on the head.

"Marc showed me your post from when we were out for pizza."

Oh. I took a photo of us with the caption, "I've officially retired as my shoulder is too weak to continue playing as a pro. However, there's no one else I'd rather spend the rest of my life with. I'm his #1 fan again." Who needs an official release or anything else? I've been out this long and I'm not coming back, so I chose to slip it into the post. No tears were shed.

"Dinner's ready, by the way. Marco wants to watch a movie that just released on DVD."

I like when Noah cooks because his diet seems so different from what mine was and I feel like I'm not feeding him what he's supposed to be eating. Plus, his food is always good.

"Thanks." I give him a quick kiss. "I smell like sweat, so I'm going to shower first."

"Can I join you?" Marc asks over his shoulder, still playing the game. "It's my birthday," he adds.

"Really?" I slap Noah's shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"Would you have bought me a present?" Marc finally pauses the game and turns to look at me.

"Of course." I walk over and smack a loud kiss on his cheek. "Will you accept that instead?"

Marc grins and flicks his gaze to Noah. "And you were worried about me developing funny feelings for your future wife. I think you should be talking to her about that."

I laugh and face Noah, who shakes his head and pushes me toward the hallway. I make my shower quick, already planning to make the guys go get ice cream with me. If it's Marc's birthday, we at least need to eat something sweet to celebrate. The guys have apparently eaten already, but they sit at the table with me while I eat.

"So, what did you do for your birthday?" I ask.

"Nothing special. Been hanging out with Noah, and now you."

"Well, I think we should go out for ice cream, Noah's treat."

"We don't have to," Marc immediately says.

"Yes, we do. It's your birthday! You have to eat something sweet on your birthday."

"We really don't."

"We're going and you're going to enjoy it," I tell him firmly.

"Okay. Whatever you want, Meredith." He flashes that grin at me. If I wasn't in love with Noah, between that smile and his voice, I would definitely have butterflies. It isn't until now that I realize how nice his voice sounds.

"How come you don't have a girlfriend?" I blurt out.

Marc glances at Noah and then back to me. "What kind of question is that?" he hesitantly asks.

"Just curious. Have you just not found one or is there some crazy hidden in there? Because it's not like you're lacking in looks or personality. Where's your woman, or are you just going to pine after me for the rest of your life?" I tease.

Noah snorts and Marc grins. "I'm telling you, I'm making her all hot and bothered."

"Shut up and answer her," Noah says gruffly while kicking him under the table.

Marc sighs. "Haven't found one. Happy?"

I'm not. Marc _is_ a great guy, and I want him to be happy. Maybe I should tell Sylvia she needs to go ahead and introduce him to that friend of hers. "Sure," I lie. "Let me walk Leo and then we can go." I smile sweetly at Noah. "Put away and clean my dishes, yeah?"

He laughs. "Yeah."

"I'll walk with you, Meredith."

"Don't hit on my woman, Marco," Noah orders as Marc stands.

"What kind of man do you take me for? I only hit on her when you're around to see it," I hear him say, causing me to laugh while I grab Leo's leash and attach it to his collar.

"Come on, Marco Polo," I say to him.

We head outside without saying much. Then, Marc says, "You don't mind me hanging around and getting on Rams's nerves, do you?"

I look at him with confusion. He seems genuinely concerned. "What? No." I link my arm through his. "I like having you around. Why are you asking?"

He shrugs. "No reason."

"Come on," I push. "You can tell me. I can keep a secret."

"Even from Noah?"

We stop walking as Leo finds his favorite spot and I face Marc. "Yeah," I begin softly. "I've kept secrets from Noah before."

"Like what?" He raises an eyebrow at me, and I know he doesn't believe me at all. There's a little bit of surprise. Not that I expect Noah to tell Marc certain things, but I did think he would vent or discuss some things about our relationship with Marc.

I take a deep breath. "Like how I quit my PT early. How Vance essentially broke up with me because he knew I wouldn't be able to play again, and how he thought I was lying when I told him I was pregnant." Marc's eyes widen as mine water. "Like how it took me a while to tell Noah I had a miscarriage, and I was tempted to not tell him, or Vance, at all."

"Fuck, Meredith, I'm sorry." He hugs me. I imagine if I had a sibling, his hugs would feel like this. There's nothing but comfort here.

"What do you want to talk about?"

My question causes him to let me go. I'm a little thrown off to see him completely serious for a change.

"Birthdays aren't my favorite."

"Why?" I whisper. I don't know why, but now I'm a little scared of finding out. Maybe I'm not prepared for whatever he has to say. Honestly, I'm not sure I like serious Marc. It's odd to see him without a smile on his face, or without one waiting to spring into place. His blue eyes seem to be lacking life and happiness. Whatever's on his mind isn't pleasant in the least. This isn't the Marc I know, and I'm scared to get to know the person standing in front of me.

Marc must decide not to tell me. "Family stuff is all. Let's go back inside to grab your man before he comes looking for us. He might think I've kidnapped you or convinced you to have a quickie with me." There's that grin again, but this time, I'm not so sure it's genuine. On the way inside, Marc puts his arm around my shoulder and says, "Happy to spend my birthday with you and Rams."

"Me too."

Serious Marc quickly fades and never resurfaces. He jokes throughout our time at the ice cream parlor, and even posts a picture of the three of us on Noah's account, talking about how he's our "favorite third wheel."

Later, Noah and I are in bed. He's holding me like he normally does. I'm busy thinking about my conversation with Marc, while Noah seems to be thinking about something else.

"Are you happy, Mere? Truly happy? Excited about our future?"

I prop myself up on one elbow to look at him. "Of course I am. Why are you asking me that?"

"I don't know." He sighs.

"Noah, what's wrong?" I sit up on my knees with my butt resting on the back of my legs. He lays a hand on my thigh, but doesn't say anything right away.

"I've just been thinking about what you said."

What I said? "What did I say?"

"Before I met you, my biggest dream was to make a career of playing hockey professionally. Your dream has always been to play tennis professionally. That's gone, Mere. I..." He squeezes my thigh. "I know you have something else now, but I just want to make sure you're actually happy and satisfied."

I cup his face and push his cheeks together, just because. "Noah, I love you. I'm going to marry you. Your name is tattooed on my body. I have a job that I love. Even if I was a housewife, as long as I had something to occupy my time with like maybe those six kids you're insisting on, I would be happy. Yeah, my dream is over sooner than I wanted, but I still got to live it. Now, it's time for me to live the other dream I had: being with you. You don't need to worry about me being unhappy because I'm so damn happy with you."

He grabs my wrists, pulls them away from his face, and kisses the tips of my fingers. "Mean it?"

"More than anything."

"We haven't had sex today," he points out.

I laugh, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss and letting my forehead rest against his. "Shame on you for not making sure your fiancée's needs were taken care of."

He drags me over on top of his body in a move so quick I squeal, and then rolls me onto my back. "Tell me what you need, Mere."

I run my hands over his bare chest. It hits me then exactly how happy I am. And it's all because of Noah. "All I need now, tomorrow, and all the days after that is you."

"I love you." He grins.

"I love you more."

His grin widens for a split second before he leans down to kiss me. My hands push at his boxer-briefs, so Noah stops to strip us both naked. I laugh as he puts Leo on the floor and jumps back onto the bed. I roll us so he's the one flat on his back. His fingers graze over the spot where my tattoo is as I trail mine over his. I lean down to kiss it before starting a trail down his body.

Shortly afterwards, we're done, ending up in the same position as before we started with my head on his chest. Since sleep isn't coming so easily tonight, all I can think about is my earlier conversation with Marc.

"Mere?" Noah sifts his fingers through my hair. "What's on your mind?"

I hesitate before deciding to ask. "Do you know anything about Marc's family?"

His hand pauses. "Not really, why?"

"Just wondering." That's odd, isn't it? Marc is obviously familiar with Noah's family based on how he interacted with his parents when they came to visit. Why wouldn't Noah know about Marc's family? They've been friends for a long time, and Noah doesn't know anything about them? Definitely odd.

"Whatever you're thinking about, stop before I call you Sylvia for meddling."

I prop up onto my elbow. "I wasn't going to meddle, Noah." I wasn't, either. Marc _is_ our favorite third wheel, and there's nothing wrong with wanting to know more about him than what we see on the surface.

"Good." He kisses me softly. "Don't worry about Marco. Just go to sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah." I lay my head on his chest, close my eyes, and soon, I do just that.

***

THE THIRD PERIOD begins with the Rebels down by one in a 2-1 game. Coach Mike spoke heavily about us coming out here and tying the game up. Each of us knows what we need to do. Now, we need to make sure we do it. Especially since there seems to be more fans here tonight. That, or they're louder than normal. Either way, it's good to hear and see.

I pump my legs faster to chase a white jersey down the ice. We hit the boards together and I push out my stick to nudge the puck away from him and the boards. Marco is right there with me and he helps me clear it. Unfortunately, it goes to the wrong player and Captain Hook has to go and earn himself a hooking penalty. There's a reason Brayden was graced with that nickname.

"Fuckin' hooker," Marc grumbles.

No use in complaining. No harm, no foul. The most important thing is their power play unit sucks. We spend more time in their own zone than they do in ours. They're able to regain control and lead us back across the ice. They put themselves into their formation, but it doesn't do them a lot of good. A guy is about to pass the puck to his teammate, but he misses. It slides across the ice between who it was meant for and EJ. He reaches his stick out to snag it a second before he misses the opportunity.

He quickly skates down the ice for a breakaway, not wanting anyone to catch up and mess with his chance. He holds onto it until he deems it the perfect moment to rear his stick back and makes the most of his killer slap shot. It's as if everyone in the arena holds their breath for one brief moment before it erupts at the sound of the horn. A "Let's Go Rebels" chant quickly follows.

Tie game, baby.

Though we do our part to prevent the Minnesota team from scoring, they do the same to send us into overtime. This will be Meredith's first time seeing a game go into overtime. That's the random thought I have before Coach sends me onto the ice. He also puts Thing One and Thing Two out there with me. Collin and Cal Kessy are twin brothers. Their numbers happen to coincide with their nicknames.

Those two are ridiculously sick together. Watching them play together almost makes you want to sit back and watch. It's almost always best to let them do their thing. They can read each other better than any other pairing in the league. They're insane. They can somehow simultaneously come up with plays on the fly. Sometimes, all you can do is be nearby in case their plan ends up including you.

This time, it doesn't. The young twins dominate the ice to forge a path around the opposing players, weaving in and out of the traffic around them, to crash the net. The goalie is waiting and appears ready. I'd hate to be him. You never know what kind of play the twins will make until they make it. Collin shoots, quickly passes his rebound to his brother, and his shot manages to squeeze between the goalie's arm and chest.

Our fans go _insane_ , and I'm pretty sure all of us are smiling. The twins hug it out before coming over to join the rest of us for a hockey hug. Eventually, we make our way off the ice and to the locker room. I feel bad for Kellan Hellberg. He's a center who was honored with the gloves at the end of the last game. His job now is to figure out which of those two deserves the pair of boxing gloves. Do you give it to the guy who set up the play or the one who sealed the W for us?

He picks them up and glances back and forth between the twins. "You both were awesome for us in overtime, but I think the playmaker should get it tonight."

Hells hands the gloves to Collin. There's a social media posting person, I don't know what her official title is, waiting to take a picture of him. He leans toward his brother and makes sure the gloves hang from both of their necks for the photo. That picture will be on all the social media sites soon, not that I'm going to see it. That's just what I know happens because one time when I got the gloves, Meredith had to show me.

Everyone is in a good mood from the win, and someone mentions heading to a bar. When it comes time to leave, I check my phone to see a message from Meredith. The girls had an away game and she said she wouldn't make it to the game. She didn't get to see her first overtime game after all. I text her to see if she wants to go to the bar. Her answer may decide whether I go or not. Things have been really good with us lately since she officially retired and reassured me when I was worried she wouldn't be happy with her new life. If she says she doesn't want to go, I'm probably heading home to see her.

It comes as no surprise to anyone that Ian is the first to leave. EJ says he's in and mutters something about being ignored by his chick, which is a good thing. Probably. Marc told me once that he thought she was a drug addict, and he didn't think EJ knew it. I asked him why he even thought she was because she looked like a normal person when we saw her at the Halloween party. Then again, I don't think you can look at someone and tell if they're a drug user, but Marc swears he can spot one when he sees one.

Speaking of the devil, Marco is going, too. I check my phone because it's time to make a decision about whether I'm going to the bar or not, but I still haven't heard from Meredith. That's unusual.

"You coming, Rams?" Marc asks me as we begin walking outside to the parking lot. "Or is the ball and chain demanding you come home?"

"Shut the hell up, Marco. I was waiting to see if she wanted to go, but haven't heard back is all."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to skip this time and go check on Mere."

Marc rolls his eyes. "She's probably sleeping."

"It's just unusual that she didn't even text when she got home. She normally does, and she hasn't. Something might be wrong. I'll check on her and then meet you at the bar. I know you only want me to come because you don't know how to be social and function without me around," I tease.

Marc laughs as we reach our vehicles. "If you aren't there in an hour, then I don't have to take you and Meredith out to dinner."

"Done," I agree.

"I'll be calling you anyway to find out what happened." He pauses. "And to make sure she's okay. I am her favorite Rebel; she might need me to stop by and cheer her up because we all know you just aren't going to cut it for her."

I flip him off before getting into my SUV. The ride home is quiet as the high of the win slowly dissolves. The parking space where my other car should be is empty. Odd. When I walk into the apartment, I see Leo's crate is open and a lamp is on. So, she has to be here. But where's my car?

"Mere?" I call out.

Only silence greets me. I walk down the hallway to our room, but it's empty. As is the bathroom and guest bedroom. Meredith and Leo are nowhere to be found. Surely she isn't walking him this late; it's after midnight now. I head back outside to where she normally walks him, but I don't see her.

Would she have taken Leo with her somewhere? She never has before. Where would she even take him? She has to be here somewhere.

But where is she?

And where is my car?

I call her cell, but it just rings and rings. I try again and again. Five unanswered calls. My heart picks up pace as I glance around. This doesn't make any sense. She has to be here. But my car isn't here and Leo isn't in the house. Where the fuck is Mere, the dog, and my car? Where would they be at this time of night?

She wouldn't have picked up and left.

Not with everything finally going right with us. Not out of the blue. Not when she's going to marry me. Not when she's chosen me. She has to be somewhere around here, but I can't think of a single place she would go at this time of night. She wouldn't have left to meet me at the bar. I mean, I told her which one, but she wouldn't have left without telling me and she wouldn't have taken Leo.

So, where in the hell is she?

This doesn't make any sense.

Something must be wrong.

That's the only explanation.

My heart aches from its ridiculously fast beating as I realize that's the only answer. Something is wrong.

"Mere?" I call out, hoping I'm just somehow missing her and that my car is parked in another space.

Nothing.

Desperate, I call Erica. Maybe they're running extremely late, but that still doesn't explain where Leo is.

"Noah?" she answers with hesitance. Can't say I blame her. I was a little on the hateful side the last time we spoke when Meredith and I went to confront her about giving our address to Vance.

"Yeah. Have you seen Meredith?"

"Um, no," she starts. "Not since she left once we got back from the game." She pauses. "Is everything okay?"

"No!" I shout, my anxiety officially taking over. "She's not here. The dog isn't here. My car isn't here. Her phone is going to voicemail. I can't fucking find her. Did she say anything to you about where she was going?"

"Not really."

"Fuck," I mutter. She's no help at all!

"Wait. She did say something about wanting a milkshake. Maybe she's just out to get one. I'm sure everything is fine, Noah." If I wasn't stressed and freaked the hell out, I would think about how odd it is that my ex-girlfriend is reassuring me about my fiancée.

"No," I say with a shake of my head even though she can't see me. "Something is _wrong_." I can feel it in my gut. If she was just out for a milkshake, then why isn't she answering the phone? "I gotta go." I don't know what I'm going to do now, or how I'm going to find her, but talking to Erica isn't getting anything accomplished.

I'm about to hang up when I hear, "Ah, Noah?"

"What?" I snap, annoyed that she's wanting to continue the conversation when she obviously doesn't have any helpful information.

"Try the hospital," she says quietly. I immediately feel lightheaded and weak. Why the fuck would she say that? Does she actually know what happened to Meredith? Did she _do_ something to Meredith? "The news just came on, and there's been a ten-car pile-up. I can see the cars behind the reporter. One of them looks like yours."

"Are you sure?" I rasp.

"It might not be, but it might be." She goes on to say which hospital the reporter is saying the people involved are going to.

I hang up as soon as she's finished saying it and try calling Meredith again. I keep calling while I head to the hospital. It can't be her. But she wouldn't have left either. All of her things are still at the apartment, too. I'm pulling into the parking lot when someone answers.

"Hello?" a man answers.

"Where's Meredith?" I demand.

"Who is this?"

"I'm her fiancé; now where the fuck is she?" Who has time for any fucking question other than where is she?

"Sir, please calm down. My name is John Graham, and I'm a nurse." He keeps talking but I don't hear anything. Erica _did_ see my car. Oh my god.

Mere. Please be okay. Please be okay.

"I'm here at the hospital; where is she?" I interrupt.

"Go to the nurses' desk in the ER and they'll direct you to her."

"Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine," he assures me.

I pull into the first parking space I see and rush inside. My phone starts ringing with a call from Marc, and I answer.

"I don't have time for your shit, Marco."

"What the hell, man?"

"Meredith's been in a car accident and I'm at the hospital. Is this important?"

"She okay?" I've never heard him be as serious as he sounds right now.

"I'm about to find out." I hang up as I walk to the nurses' desk. "I need to see Meredith Quick. John Graham said you could take me back to see her."

She opens her mouth to object when I hear, "I'll take him myself." I turn around to see a nurse. "I'm John. You can follow me." I follow him through a wide door.

"Can you tell me what her injuries are?"

"She mostly suffered from bumps and bruises. She's one of the lucky ones from the accident. She did have some cuts on her face that'll need stitches. Her phone was in her pocket and we took it before we sent her to get some scans run." He opens the door to a room. A nurse is holding Leo, but Meredith isn't in here. "We almost had to pry the dog from her for the scans. The officer said she wouldn't leave the scene without him, so here he is. You can wait here for her."

The other nurse hands me a trembling Leo. His white fur is tainted red. He whimpers in my hands, but I gently rub his head. The nurses leave me alone in the room. I take a seat and carefully move my hands over his body to see if he whines. Leo could be injured, too. He doesn't whine, so I'm assuming he's most likely okay. He snuggles closer to my chest and slowly stops trembling. I've checked the dog out; now, if I could only check Meredith out and make sure she's okay, too.

I bolt from my seat when the door opens. A bed is wheeled in and finally. _Finally_ , I see her. Bandages are taped to two different places on her face and her clothes are covered in dried blood. I swallow hard at the sight. That seems to be a lot of blood for a person who is supposedly fine and only needs a few stitches.

"Noah!"

"What the fuck are you doing, Mere?" My voice is thick with emotion and harsher than I meant. She reaches her hand out, and I take it, stepping closer to her.

"I'm okay," she says softly. At least she realizes I'm not actually upset with _her_ , but the circumstances instead.

"The doctor will be in shortly for your stitches," another nurse says before stepping out of the room and leaving us alone.

My eyes roam over her body over and over, looking for another injury. It takes a lot of self-control not to strip her naked, run my hands over her body, and reassure myself that all I see is all the harm she received. Mostly, she only has those two cuts. How did all that blood come from just two cuts on her head? She squeezes my hand hard. My eyes fly to hers.

" _I'm okay_ ," she repeats.

"You scared me to death, Meredith. I came home, you weren't there, and you weren't answering your phone. I couldn't figure out where the hell you were. I called Erica to make sure you left and then she tells me she can see my car in a pile-up on the damn news. I didn't know what I was walking into here. I didn't—"

"Noah, I'm okay. I'm right here." She squeezes my hand again as if it could remind me.

I lean forward and kiss her softly on the lips just once. "What happened?"

"I don't really know. I went home, got Leo, and I couldn't stop thinking about a milkshake, so we left to go get me one. I was on the way back, and next thing I know, there's nothing but brake lights. I couldn't stop in time. I hit the car in front of me, and I know one hit the back of me. I think I was at the end of it. I'm not sure. I was kind of out if it," she points to her head, "and I just wanted to make sure they didn't leave Leo behind." Some fire appears within her now. "I wanted to punch one of the officers because he kept trying to say he'd hold onto him for me, but I didn't want to leave him with anyone else. He was terrified."

" _I_ was terrified, Mere."

"I'm sorry."

"Excuse me." We look over at the entrance to the room to see John. "There's a Marc here saying he would like to see you, Meredith. Is it okay if he comes back?"

"Absolutely," she answers with a smile.

John leaves and I look at Meredith again. "I'm glad I decided to come home when I didn't hear from you. The guys were headed to the bar."

"Did the team win?"

"In overtime, yeah."

"Aw, I missed it. I haven't seen a game go into overtime yet."

"You'll have your chances. Are you sure you're okay? Nothing hurts? Nothing is broken?"

"They said I'll just need the stitches. I'll probably have to go back to PT for a little bit. My shoulder hurts, so I might have hurt it again. Overall, I'm okay. Promise."

"Meredith!" Marc rushes to the other side of her and gives her a little kiss on her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Marco. Nothing a few stitches won't fix."

Marc looks at me for confirmation. I nod. "That's good to hear. Rams hung up on me so I didn't know anything other than that you were here. Do you need me to do anything for you?" he asks.

"Yeah," I answer for her. "You can take Leo home and give him a bath."

"You do not," Meredith quickly tells him. She narrows her eyes and holds the dog close to her chest. "Leo isn't going anywhere. We need to call the vet and get him checked out. He fell into the floor. He might be hurt."

"He's fine," I say. "He hasn't acted funny. I've put pressure on his body and he didn't whine. We can go tomorrow, but I'm sure he's okay. He just needs a bath and some more time to calm down."

"But—"

"But nothing. He's fine."

"How about I call your vet and see if they'll even see him this late," Marc offers. "If they will, I'll take him and bring him back home to you." Meredith looks unsure about allowing him to do this for her. Either that, or she's worried about putting her dog in Marc's hands. She has nothing to worry about, though. That I know for certain. "I don't mind, Meredith. Not at all. And if it helps calm your mind, I'm more than willing to do it for you," he adds.

"Thank you, Marc."

"No problem."

She tells him the vet's number and he takes Leo from me before leaving with the promise to check in later.

"I need to call your parents."

"No," Meredith shakes her head. "If you call them this late, they'll panic. I'm okay. We can call them in the morning."

I can't argue with her because the doctor comes in. The cuts on her face look bad. There's a long one along her hairline, down her cheek by her ear and then a gash on her forehead. I hold her hand while she gets the stitches with an order to see her regular doctor in ten days to have them removed. Shortly after that, they discharge her.

"Have you heard from Marc?" she asks as I drive us home.

"Not yet."

Whatever energy boost she had in the hospital is quickly disappearing. She slumps in her seat and closes her eyes. I'm pulling into the parking garage when my phone vibrates with a call from Marc.

"Hey," I answer.

"Hey. Leo sustained no injuries. I told the lady to send you the bill. I'm on my way back now."

"Good. We just got here."

"Okay. See you in a few then."

"Was that Marc?" Meredith asks as she rouses awake.

"Yeah. Leo is fine and he's on his way."

She sighs with relief. "Good." She glances at the empty parking space. "I'm sorry about your car."

"It's okay. If you want, you can just fly up to your parents when you visit for Thanksgiving and drive your car back here."

"What about in the meantime?"

"Marc can be my chauffeur, and you can drive this one."

She nods. We get out of the SUV. I take her hand as we walk to the elevator. "Are you sure everything is okay?" she asks the question I should be asking her.

"I'm exhausted, but mostly relieved you're okay. I don't think it's sunk in yet."

She drapes an arm around my waist, reaches up to grab the back of my neck, and pulls me down to kiss me. "I'm okay, Noah," she repeats, her lips moving against mine. "You can even hold me extra tight and talk to me all night if it'll help. I just want a shower first." She gives me a firm kiss as the doors slide open to our floor.

Meredith takes a quick shower while I start clearing the kitchen counter. There's blood in her hair and I told her we'd wash it out in the sink after she was done with her shower. Marc still isn't here when she gets out. She's dressed in one of my T-shirts, and it's not until she climbs onto the counter and lies on her back with her legs bent at the knees that I see a pair of pajama shorts.

"Hey, I'm here," Marc calls as he walks in.

"We're right here." I push Meredith's shoulder down so she'll lie back down.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Washing her hair without getting her stitches wet." I turn the water on and adjust the handles, so I can make sure it's a good temperature.

"Oh. Well, I took him for a walk, so you don't have to take him. The vet and I gave him a bath, so he's all clean too." He comes to stand next to me.

"Thank you, Marc," Meredith says.

"Of course. Need anything else?"

"I don't think so," I answer, grabbing the nozzle and spraying her hair.

"He was asking me. Marc, make him hurry up; my neck already hurts."

"I can't hold your neck and wash your hair," I tell her.

"Here." Marc slips his hand under her neck to better support it. Mere seems to relax into his hand, and I have no doubt he's holding her head up now.

"Thanks." She smiles at him.

So, Marc helps me wash her hair. When I get close to her face and stitches, he uses his other hand to cover them up and act as a barrier. After we've finished, he helps make sure I don't place the towel over the ones on her forehead. If it was anyone else, I'd be pissed that he's helping me take care of my woman. I'd be annoyed by his simple presence when I'm more than ready to have her to myself. But Meredith loves him and I know he's only trying to help both of us.

"Thanks for all your help, Marc," Meredith says as she sits up and swings her legs to dangle off the counter.

"Any time. I'm going to head home if you guys don't need anything else."

"We're good," I answer. "We're about to head to bed."

"Okay."

Meredith holds her arms out, so he gives her a hug before slapping me on the shoulder. I walk him to the door, thank him myself, and lock it after him. When I turn around, Meredith is holding Leo in one arm while holding the other out to me. I take her hand and follow her to our bedroom. She sets Leo on the comforter while we go about getting ready for bed.

My mattress and sheets have never felt as good as they do when I lie down tonight. Meredith has abandoned the towel, leaving her hair wet. It chills my skin when she rests her head on my bare chest. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. That's all I want. To hold her in my arms until morning, to know that she's safe with me, and she's okay.

Tonight could've been a lot worse, but it wasn't. I'm just glad I found her and that she's now home.

"I love you, Mere."

She stretches over my chest and kisses my tattoo. "I love you more, Noah. Sorry for scaring you."

"You're all right. That's all that matters. Just try not to do it again, yeah?"

"Yeah," she replies.

I tug her a little tighter. Once her breathing slows into that peaceful sleeping pattern, my muscles begin to relax and my eyelids drift closed as exhaustion takes over.

***

"NOAH," I START, but he interrupts me.

"Be quiet." He squeezes his arms tighter around me.

It's been almost two weeks since the car accident and we're at the airport for me to fly home. I'm nervous as hell about telling my parents, but I'm so ready to see them. I know they're ready to see me, too, especially since my dad wants to check me over himself after the accident. We even videochatted so he could see me, but he's still anxious to see me in person. If Noah ever lets me go, I can go home and ease Dad's unnecessary worry. First, I have to do the same thing for Noah. He hasn't hovered over me too much, but he's been anxious about this trip of mine.

"I'm coming back Saturday, and you'll see me next Tuesday," I remind him. He has a game in New York Friday and then another one Monday, so I won't see him until the following day.

"Oh, I know. I'm just going to miss you like hell, Mere. It'll be almost a week before I'll see you again."

Damn. I hadn't thought about it that way. I was trying to avoid it. "I know," I say softly, squeezing him back.

"Keep me updated on how it goes with your parents and my sister. Let me know if I need to talk to any of them." Noah's worried about his sister. Our families started having Thanksgiving together when we were in high school; that's how close they were. They still do it. It's not like I can avoid Ashley even if I change my mind about seeing her beforehand, which I'm already tempted to do.

"It'll be fine. I'll try and if it doesn't work, oh well. As long as you're happy and I'm happy, we'll be fine. That's the perk to us living in another state."

Noah grins and quickly kisses me. "That's why I love you."

"That's the only reason?"

He laughs. "No, there are lots of them, but that's definitely one of them."

"Don't forget to take Leo to Sylvia before you leave for your road trip." She offered to let him stay over at her house until I come back.

"I won't." He doesn't let me go; he holds me closer.

"I'm going to miss my flight," I reluctantly say. I don't know why it's so hard to leave him now when it wasn't when I came back for a weekend.

He takes a deep breath, cups my cheeks, and kisses me slowly. This kind of kiss should be banned in public. I lean into him and let his tongue memorize mine. Somehow, I just know this is the kiss I'll get on our wedding day. He pulls away and then kisses me quickly one more time.

"I love you," I tell him, a little breathy.

"I love you more," he whispers.

He drops his arms. As if I'm the one who wouldn't let go, he nudges me toward security. I walk away to get in line. I shuffle through it slowly and glance back to where we were standing. Noah is still there with his hands in his pockets. He smiles. I wave, tears coming to my eyes. I quickly grab my phone and text him. A moment later, he's checking his.

**Me:** _I've changed my mind. I want you with me when I tell them._

**Me:** _Actually, I don't want to go at all. I want to stay here with you. I can tell them another time._

**Noah:** _You'll be okay, Mere. You can do it. I'm only a phone call away. And yes, you do want to go. You've been talking for a week about seeing your parents. Don't get nervous now, or I'll have to come get you._

**Me:** _What's so bad about that?_

I glance up to see him laugh. Unfortunately, the line is moving and it's almost my turn, so I put my phone away. I definitely don't want to be the person who holds up the line or who doesn't follow directions. My nerves start to ease away once I can't see him anymore. Odd how that works. Sure, I'm still a little nervous about telling my parents, but the panic I felt earlier about the entire trip is gone.

It rears up when I find myself once again sitting in an airport with only a carry-on, waiting for my flight. Things are so different now, though. I'm with Noah. I've found a new career path. My life feels settled and I've found a home in North Carolina of all places. I have a new plan and it feels _right_. That's something I haven't had in a long, long time. I'm happier than I ever thought possible, even when I was with Noah before.

Everything seems to take forever. Waiting to board, waiting to take off, waiting to land, and waiting to make it back to the terminal. Once I'm finally off the damn plane, I text Noah that I've landed safe and sound, and soon, I spot my parents. Dad is once again holding a sign reading _Ms. Quick._ I laugh and get a double hug from them.

"Oh, it's so good to see you," Mom says, squeezing me.

"I'm happy to be here."

"You _look_ happy, Meredith."

"You do look radiant," Dad agrees, taking my carry-on.

"Thanks." I smile, knowing it's all because of Noah.

Mom pushes my hair behind my ear to get a good look at my scars from the car accident. They aren't that bad, and I'm sure they'll continue to heal and be barely noticeable. "I'm glad we can finally see you. I'm about to suggest you stop being in a car. This is your second car accident in a year."

"And neither were my fault. I wasn't even driving last time," I remind her.

"I don't care."

"Let's head home. You can talk there as well as you can here," Dad says. He looks at me as we begin walking to the parking garage. "Are you staying at your house or ours?"

"Yours," I answer. "I am going by the house at some point because I'll be driving my car home. I'm actually thinking of selling the house. Maybe. I don't know yet."

"Why?" Mom asks. "It's a lovely home. If you keep it, you and Noah can have your own space when you come to visit. Have you talked to him about this? I'm pretty sure he's been looking for a house to have up here, but he's a picky man and Carol said he hasn't purchased one yet, so he stays with them."

"I just happened to think about it while I was on the flight here. I'll talk to him about it and see what he says." We get into the car and Dad starts driving.

"Not to mention, you have a gorgeous yard," Mom adds.

"Too damn big of a yard," Dad grumbles. Probably because he mows it for me. I told him I'd hire someone, but he won't let me and insists on doing it himself.

"It would be perfect for hosting a wedding," Mom continues. She twists in her seat. "Let me see the ring."

I hold my hand out to her. Dad glances at it since he stopped to let a car back out of a parking space. He smiles. There's something a little off about his expression, though.

"What's the smile for?" I ask.

"I've seen that ring before," he answers as he faces forward again and resumes driving.

I lean forward with confusion. "What do you mean?"

His eyes flick up to the rearview mirror. "Noah asked for permission back then. It was not easy to tell that boy yes, and I'm still not sure how he managed it, but he convinced me to give him my blessing. Then, he asked me if I would go with him to help pick it out. I did."

"Really?" My eyes water as I glance down at my ring in awe. It means so much more now than just a second ago. Not only does this ring hold our history, but my dad had a hand in the process of Noah acquiring it in the first place.

"Yes."

"He wanted to get me a new one, but I told him I wanted this one when he proposed. I'm even more glad that I stood my ground now." I grab my phone and text him, as I explain to my mother how I saw my ring before he proposed.

**Me:** _I love you the most._

**Noah:** _I love you, too, Mere. But...any particular reason why?_

**Me:** _Dad told me that you asked him for his permission and that he went shopping with you._

**Noah:** _Ah. No wonder you love me the most. You really should. I am awesome._

**Me:** _Yep. Also, Mom thinks we should have the wedding in my backyard._

**Noah:** _We can check it out when I come up for Christmas, but if that's what you want, then that's what I want._

**Me:** _You're being very sweet._

**Noah:** _When am I not? ;)_

"Have you thought about what kind of wedding dress you want?" Mom asks, distracting me from responding.

"Not really."

"What about how many people you're inviting?"

"Nope."

"What kind of food will be served at the reception?"

"No."

Mom huffs and twists in her seat again. "You're supposed to be planning a wedding, Meredith. That means you need details. Where is my daughter who loves to plan? Let's start with what you know so far."

"That I'm marrying Noah in our hometown. That's it."

Dad laughs while Mom shakes her head at me.

"We need to get started. Have you even picked a date yet?"

"Yes, I have. August seventh."

Finally, Mom is happy about something wedding-related. I have a feeling my time here is going to be focused on the wedding. It doesn't seem right to do it without Noah, so I tell Mom she can make me a list of what needs to be decided, email it to me, and then once I get home, Noah and I can discuss it. My first night there is spent catching up and just enjoying time with my parents. I decided to spend time with them instead of going to see Ashley.

Thanksgiving Day comes and I help Mom out in the kitchen. My parents and Noah's parents alternate hosting and this year, it's my parents' turn. It's so busy that I barely have time to talk to Noah. Too soon, his parents along with his sister, her husband, and baby Nicholas are here. I hold my breath, waiting to see how Ashley will treat me.

They greet my mom and dad first. Carol hugs me out of politeness and then comes William. He grins, gives me a bear hug, gushes over seeing me. He makes a big deal about my scars and how he thanked the heavens that I was okay. God, I love Noah's dad. Then, I'm face to face with Ashley. She smiles and hugs me.

"You're forgiven," she whispers to me. "My brother is happy and I'm not going hold a grudge anymore." She pulls back and adds, "Besides, Noah called me and made me promise to be nice."

I laugh. "Well, thank you."

"Did someone mention me?"

My eyes snap over to that voice and I accidentally scream, scaring the baby, and run over to jump into his arms. "What are you doing here?" I whisper in awe.

"I wanted to be here with you. I have to leave shortly after we finish eating, but something is better than nothing, yeah?"

"I love you."

He gives me a quick kiss and sets me back on my feet. "Someone hand me that crying baby," he says.

Noah is able to calm Nicholas, and I apologize to Ashley for making him cry. She finishes introducing me to her husband, Oliver. I keep looking at Noah. I can't believe he's here. Now things feel perfect. True to her word, Ashley is nice to me. We even catch up on our lives and it feels like I got my best friend back. Hell, it feels like I got half of my family back. We were so close and it's great to be back in touch with everyone. It's the best Thanksgiving I've had since I was in high school.

When it comes time for Noah to leave, we walk outside together to wait for his cab. The air is chilly and I hug my arms around his waist to use him for body heat. I'm so happy he's here.

"What did you do with Leo?" Sylvia wasn't supposed to get him until tomorrow.

"Marco offered to watch him tonight. Is that really what you're going to ask me?"

"Yes. What else am I supposed to ask you?" Did I miss something?

"You're supposed to ask me how amazing I am." He grins and I laugh.

"I already know how amazing you are. Thank you for coming."

He kisses my forehead. "You're welcome. You haven't told them yet, have you?"

"No, I haven't."

"How are you feeling about it?"

I shrug. "Nervous and ready to get it over with." The weight of that is starting to feel heavy.

"It'll be fine," Noah reassures me. "They're your parents, they love you, and they'll probably give you a big hug by the end of it."

"I know."

Unfortunately, his cab arrives and it's time for him to go.

"I'll call you when I get home," he says.

"Okay. Safe travels. Send me a picture of Leo, too."

"I will," he promises.

I hug him and kiss him goodbye. I watch as he gets into the cab, wave, and watch the car disappear down the road. Rubbing my arms, I turn to go inside to find Mom and Dad in the kitchen cleaning up the day's mess. I start helping them where I can.

"That was nice of Noah to surprise everyone like that," Mom says.

"Yeah," I agree.

"It's really good to see the two of you together again. It's like old times. I think it was good for Ashley and Carol to see, too. How can they be upset after seeing how happy he was, how happy you both were?"

She has a point. I think that's the main reason why Ashley finally loosened up with me. His mom, however, behaved as usual. "If only that would transfer over to Carol."

"Oh, she's coming around," Mom reassures me. I'm glad she can tell because I can't. "It's a hard thing to watch your child go through something difficult. You'll be back on her good side by Christmas, I promise."

"And be glad you have William on your side. I wouldn't put it past him to sing your praises every day until Carol is sick of him," Dad adds.

"I hope you guys are right."

We fall into silence until I can't take it anymore. The words are about to pop out of my mouth. If only they would actually come. "I, ah...when I...I was home for a month before I told you I was home," I finally say.

Mom stops what she's doing and turns to me. "What?"

"I was holed up in my house for a month before I let you know I was here."

Mom looks to Dad who has now stopped as well. "Why?" she asks.

"I had a miscarriage," I whisper.

Dad is at my side before I can blink. He tucks me into his side. "Start from the beginning."

They listen as I tell them everything. From how Vance was after my injury to finding out I was pregnant and telling him, to losing the baby. Dad holds me close and his strength helps me through telling them. Mom cries with me while Dad reassures me that everything will be just fine, now and in the future.

I believe him, too.

And even if something comes along to mess up my new plan, I'm positive Noah will help me through it.

***

"HOW DID IT go with your parents?" I ask Meredith.

"We all cried, but it went well."

"I told you it would be okay. You should start listening to me more often."

She laughs softly. It is kind of late, but she doesn't have to be quiet. Her room is practically on the other side of the house from her parents. "I'll try, but no promises. You forgot to send me a picture of Leo, by the way."

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing. You should check your social media more often. Go on. I'll wait."

"Okay, hold on."

I can tell she's smiling just from the tone of her voice. A second later, I hear, "Aw. You posted Leo on your account! I'm so proud of you."

"Good. You should be." She laughs, and I add, "Next time, you need to take him with you."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because guess who's cuddling with me?" Meredith laughs again. "You have a needy dog, Mere. He's been following me around like a lost puppy. He even laid in the bathroom while I took a shower this morning. Do you know how weird it is to have a dog stare at you while you take a shower?"

"Yes, because he does it to me, too. Did you give him a treat?"

"He has treats?" I ask. Leo pops his head up and looks at me. His ears are perked up and at attention. He definitely knows the word treat.

"Yes! I usually give him one every day."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"His treats are in the same cabinet as his dog food."

Oh. I should probably pay more attention. "I'll give him one tomorrow before I leave. Sylvia asked if you could pick him up on your way home."

"Of course. Text me her address and I'll put it in my GPS."

"Okay, I will. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Well, we'll eat leftovers and then everyone is coming over to watch your game. I'm really excited. This is the first time I've watched one of your pro games with my parents. Oh! And my dad is going to help me figure out some of the details for my private lessons."

Hearing her so happy, knowing that the pieces of her life are finally falling into place, and that I get to be a part of that? It's overwhelming. It makes me wish more than anything else that I was with her right now instead of in another state.

"Noah, are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. That's great, Mere. When do you start back with Erica?"

That launches her into how she's thinking of hiring Kira as her assistant. I can, and do, listen to her talk about what she's already figured out, what she's hoping to figure out, and her hopes for this. She's also hoping to continue working with Erica. That honestly surprises me a little, but if Erica is treating her better, as she should, then it makes sense that Meredith loves that job even more and would be willing to stick with it. I listen and listen until she declares she's tired. Then I tell her I love her, listen to her tell me she loves me more, and hang up. I fall asleep knowing that the biggest piece of my life that was missing for entirely too long is here and here to stay.

Not going to lie, knowing that Mere is sitting at home with my family and her parents watching this game, it's making me a little nervous. I don't know why since she's obviously seen me play before, but I'm nervous nonetheless. Liam leads us onto the ice. My mind calms immediately. Game time is quiet time. The nerves fade away as my body prepares for the battle ahead of me on the ice.

Unfortunately, our team seems to fall apart. I'm not even sure we've played a hockey game before. Passes are missed. Blue shirts are taking advantage of our turnovers. We're a step too late in helping Savage defend his net. At the start of the second, we're down three to nothing. Marco and I jump onto the ice for our shift.

Something finally goes our way as Captain Hook wins the face-off and deflects it toward me. I skate with it for a moment before passing it to Nathan O'Donnell, or Donny. Donny takes off down the ice, causing everyone to follow him. He skates behind the net and I get into position on his right. He glances to his left while flicking the puck my way. I feel it hit my stick and quickly shoot, hoping to send the puck over the goalie's shoulder.

My shot pings against the metal pole. The Hockey Gods must be favoring me tonight because it hits the back of the goalie's arm, which sends it straight into the net.

"Fuck yeah!" I shout as the horn sounds, my arms going up into the air. The guys surround me for one of the great parts of hockey: a hockey hug that's given after a goal.

"Always the showoff, Rams," Marco says with a laugh. I ignore him as I lead the way to fist bump my teammates.

Five minutes later, a blue shirt, who has been trying to get under our skin, finally pisses Ian off enough after a high stick to his face goes uncalled. A second after the face-off, the two are dropping the gloves. Bruiser lands some good hits, only getting one in return, before the refs are pulling them apart. He's still cussing on his way to the penalty box.

That seems to give us a much-needed second wind.

Thing One and Two are making themselves known when they're on the ice, shooting the puck every chance they get. Bruiser, Marco, Tommy, and the rest of us D-men do our part, blocking shots that hurt like hell and covering the ice. Sav makes good saves and is solid for us.

Unfortunately, no other Rebel scores, not for lack of trying. Coach Mike makes a comment about how we did good taking every shot we could, but it just didn't pay off. Not to mention we had a bad start and it took us too long to get our shit together. Hopefully, we'll do better in the next game. We need to be looking forward.

I'm most looking forward to going home and seeing Meredith.

After we win the next game, of course.

"Noooooaaahhh," Meredith half-whines, half-laughs as I attack her neck with my mouth. "We're supposed to be planning our wedding," she reminds me.

Yeah, I come home from the New York road trip and she thinks the first thing on my mind is wedding details? No. The first thing on my mind is having sex with my fiancée. It absolutely has priority over some list her mother sent her home with. "Don't fucking care about that, Mere," I grumble.

Her body turns to stone beneath me. "You don't care about our wedding?"

I sigh and lift my head. "Of course I do. I meant that I don't care about the details. All I need is you in a white dress and someone to marry us."

"Then we have a problem." She folds her arms over her chest.

"Why?"

"Because I want your input on those details you don't care about. And I want to talk about my house back home."

Usually, that would make me tense, but not anymore. She's here to stay and be with me. "What about it?" I ask.

"I thought about selling it, but then Mom said I should keep it. That it could be ours to stay in when we go to visit. Plus, I already told you she mentioned having the wedding in the backyard."

I sit up on the couch and pull her with me since it's obvious she isn't as desperate for sex as I am. "Do you want to keep it?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. I mean, I fell in love with it, but it never felt like home. Mom said you've been trying to find a house, so maybe mine can be it."

"Why don't we keep it in mind and make a decision later? We can stay there for Christmas."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Maybe it'll feel like home if you're there."

That makes me smile. "Can I get back to seducing you now?" I pull her over to straddle my lap.

"Is that what you call what you were doing?" Her voice lacks the teasing quality of her question.

"Now you want to insult me, Mere? Might want to rethink that." I quickly remove her shirt.

"It's about time for Leo's walk."

I rest my hands on her thighs. It's unusual for her to keep throwing excuses my way. "Is there a particular reason why you don't want to have sex with me? I've been gone for four days, haven't seen you in longer than that. What the hell, Mere?"

Her eyes harden and her lips flatten. She crosses her arms over her chest again, but without her shirt, it just brings my attention to her breasts. She slaps my arm to get my attention. "You act as if I owe you sex."

Damn, this is going bad faster than I can breathe. "That's not what I mean. I've been gone. I've missed you. All I want is to be with you before I have to leave again at the end of the week. What's so bad about that?"

Some of her resolve falls away as she drops her arms to place them around my neck. "Nothing," she answers. "Ignore me. I'm just being weird."

I grab her hips and give 'em a squeeze. "Something going on, Mere?"

She reaches over to grab her shirt and puts it back on. Those green eyes flick toward mine before glancing away again. She takes a deep breath. "I just...I was late, so I thought that maybe...you know, but I'm not because it started yesterday. I don't really know how to feel about it."

"Fuck, Mere. Why didn't you say something sooner?" Now I really feel like a dick. I wrap my arms around her shoulders as she rests her head on one of mine. She's on the pill but I don't wear a condom, so it's not like we're extremely careful.

"You had a game yesterday, and I was trying to figure out how I felt, so I didn't want to bother you yet."

"Don't worry about it, okay? Whatever happens happens, and we'll be fine. Let's focus on today and only look as far as our wedding. Let's get your list and see if we can knock out some of what's on it."

I reach for the list she had abandoned and spend the next few hours answering questions about the stupidest of details. But it's important to Meredith and it's now or later. I'd rather get it over with now, even though I know this is only the beginning. I've never been happier to see Marc in my entire life when he pops by. Meredith promised to cook dinner and she couldn't leave Marc out.

We sit in the kitchen while she cooks. I decide to throw him under the bus. "Marco said your ring was pitiful when he saw it."

Mere shoots him a glare, but he just shrugs. "He said it was what you wanted, but it does kind of makes him look bad. He has all that money in his bank account _now_ , and he lets you settle for that?"

"He didn't _let_ me settle," she snaps, and it shows both of us how annoyed she is by it. "I'm not settling at all. He's given me exactly what I want. It's no one's fucking business either and I don't care what they think about him." She points the spoon at me. "You shouldn't care either. What happened to our opinions are the only ones that matter?"

It's not that I care what people think as much as it's what _I_ think. I want her to have better. We're better now than we were then. Why can't her ring reflect that? It does bother me, probably more than it should, and definitely more than it should considering she doesn't mind in the least.

"You don't care what I think?" Marc asks, trying to lighten the mood, but Mere isn't having any of it.

"Not when it comes to my relationship with Noah."

"What about a compromise?" he pushes.

Meredith sighs. "What kind of compromise?"

"I don't know."

She throws a noodle at him. "Such a big help. I'm not changing my ring."

"What if," I start, gathering both of their attentions, "your wedding bands could have a row of small diamonds, one on each side, and I'll buy you diamond jewelry every five years on our anniversary."

Meredith watches me for a long moment. "Does it matter to you that much?" she ask softly.

"Yeah, Mere."

"Then, okay."

I flash her a grin. She honestly doesn't care, but she's giving in for me. I love that she loves that ring, but I want to do more for her. Meredith turns back to the stove, and I drink in the sight of her. Long tan legs, long straight brown hair, green eyes, a killer smile, and a heart of gold. In less than a year, she'll be my wife.

Finally.

I feel like I've been waiting for that moment since I fell in love with her. It can't get here soon enough. I can already picture her in a white dress with a big smile on her face as she walks toward me. That will be the best day of my life, followed by the day I met her and the day I ran into her at the airport. And to think she was about to talk herself into not coming at all.

After the wedding, we'll go on a cruise to the Caribbean for our honeymoon. We may just stay on the ship the entire time. It's already my job to make her happy. Marrying her will make her happy. Making sure we do our best to get her pregnant and to have a healthy baby, whether it's one or six. That's something she wants, something I want, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure she gets what she wants, what will make her happy.

"Is pasta the only thing you know how to cook, Meredith?" Marc asks her, dragging me out of my thoughts.

"It's the easiest to make, and Noah likes my pasta," she says with a shrug.

"Barf. You guys make me sick."

"You're free to leave," I tell him.

"I can't deprive Meredith of her favorite Rebel. It wouldn't be fair to her to leave just because you're jealous."

"Throw another noodle at him, Mere," I order as serious as can be, causing her to laugh.

She tosses a penne noodle at him, but he manages to catch it in his mouth. "Not quite done," he tells her.

"I don't know what I'm going to do once you land a girlfriend," she says. "You have to promise to still come around."

I laugh. "Don't hold your breath over Marco meeting a woman." I know for a fact he's still thinking about that girl from the Halloween party. He's two seconds away from being desperate and interrogating everyone who was at the Halloween party. He says he's given up, but I don't believe him.

Meredith glares at me. "Why would you say that? He's good looking and a great guy. He could easily get a girlfriend. Maybe the problem is you're a bad wingman."

Marc bursts into laughter. "She has you there, Rams."

I shake my head at them both with a smile. They can talk shit all they want. I don't mind as long as Meredith is happy.

***

I'M SITTING IN the box, waiting for warmups to start, and I'm a bit surprised that Sylvia isn't here. When I picked Leo up last Saturday, she said she was making her move soon to set Marc up. I'm starting to get anxious and I've been waiting for her to show up, so I can ask how soon is soon. I love Marc and I love having him over, but he needs a woman. He and Noah may get a kick out of calling him our third wheel, but there's only so much longer he can be the third wheel. I'm still uncertain that who Sylvia wants to set him up with is the right person, but it can't hurt to let them meet.

Sylvia and a woman with blond hair finally arrive. Sylvia gives me a grin that quickly disappears when the woman gasps. Her eyes are glued to the ice. I glance down, but I don't see anything abnormal. She starts hyperventilating and Sylvia is immediately concerned.

"Lizzy? You okay?" she asks, but the woman doesn't answer.

The players skate onto the ice. Lizzy immediately shakes her head and bolts out of the room. Sylvia follows after her.

Ooooooookay, then.

My gaze returns to the ice, immediately finding that head of black hair. My favorite thing about Noah playing is the fact that he doesn't wear a helmet during warmups. His hair flies back as he skates around the ice. A breathy sigh slips out when he starts to stretch. God, he looks ridiculously hot. Between his hair, the uniform, the stretching, how can anyone resist a hockey player? Especially my hockey player?

Life is just so good right now. It can only get better and I have no doubt that even the bad days will be good if only for the fact that Noah is with me. We can get through anything at this point. I can't wait to officially be Mrs. Noah Ramsey.

Sylvia plops into the seat next to me right after the national anthem as well as Canada's national anthem is sung.

"Is that her?" I blurt out.

"Yeah."

"Well, where is she? Is she excited about meeting Marc?"

Sylvia turns in her seat toward me. "As excited as she can be. She's just outside. She's not going to watch the game with us. She isn't too thrilled about him being a hockey player. However, she's still going to the bar with us afterward. I told Marc I wanted him to meet someone, so I'm hoping the sparks fly and this won't be all for nothing."

There's so many questions I want to ask, but something about Sylvia's demeanor makes me bite my tongue. Instead, I ask a question off topic. "How are the girls?"

"I regret watching Leo for you. The girls are begging Scott for a puppy. He wants to give in and get them one, but the twins are enough of a handful. I do not want to watch and take care of a puppy."

We talk about her girls and plan on a lunch date next week. I'm starting to get both excited and nervous about Marc meeting this woman. Hopefully, it goes well, but in the back of my mind, I keep hearing Sylvia say how she's the opposite of Marc. I just can't see him with someone who isn't just like him. But what do I know? Maybe she'll be perfect for him.

The guys come out onto the ice flying. I can tell from that moment that this is going to be a good game, if only because they are ready to fight for the win. My attention swings back and forth between the game and Sylvia when she's not talking to Theresa. She's so hopeful this will work out between Marc and Lizzy. I hope so, too. Marc is going to be in a great mood after the game. He scored a goal and got a few assists along the way.

Sylvia leaves when there's a minute left to go. The Rebels have a healthy lead, and she's deeming it safe enough to go. Plus, she wants to check on Lizzy. Once the buzzer has sounded to officially end the game, I'm right behind her, heading to the bar.

I spot them easily enough, arriving at the same time as Theresa. Sylvia formally introduces me to Lizzy. The woman gives us a small smile and steadily sips from her drink. She doesn't engage in conversation with us. She mostly stares at her drink and takes frequent sips. I don't have a good feeling about her.

Marc puts an arm around my shoulder and an arm around Elizabeth's shoulder. "Ladies," he grins. "Your favorite Rebel is here." I laugh and shake my head while he plants a quick kiss on my cheek. Lizzy finally looks at him. "You I don't know. What's your name, beautiful?"

Okay, so he thinks she's beautiful. That's good. Unless he's just talking shit. I don't think he is though because she _is_ pretty. Unfortunately, she's just staring at him.

"Marc, this is Elizabeth," Sylvia comes in to rescue her. "We call her Lizzy, though."

Lizzy is still staring at him. This is so going to blow up in his face. He leans in, whispering something in her ear before pulling away and waving a waitress over. He orders himself a beer and soon, my man is here. I know because he touches my lower back and gives me a quick kiss when I turn my head. Scott is also here and he introduces Lizzy to the other guys who have arrived. Sylvia can't stop grinning. I'm not sure why, though. Lizzy doesn't look thrilled.

At all.

I wish I could pull Marc away and tell him that she is obviously not someone he should go out with, but the waitress drops off his beer, causing him to remove his arm from my shoulders to hold it. Lizzy glances at Scott, who is laughing at Noah. I should probably pay more attention, but Marc has turned his focus to Lizzy, and it's like a movie I can't stop watching.

"How'd you get included in this group?" he asks her.

"I'm an old friend of Scott and Sylvia's," she replies curtly.

"Just in town visiting then?"

Did Sylvia not tell him anything about her? Even I know before she says it that she lives here.

"Then how come I've never seen your lovely face before?"

It's difficult to hold in my laugh. Lizzy isn't impressed either.

"Lovely? Really?" She downs the rest of her drink and Marc stops a waitress walking by, even though she's not the waitress who has been tending to us, and orders her another drink.

"You are quite possibly the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, and I've seen a lot of beautiful women."

I can't stop the giggles this time. Marc glares at me, but I can't help it. This is the first time I've seen him try to charm a woman.

"I'm guessing by her laugh, that's another line," Lizzy says in a flat tone.

"Ignore Meredith. She doesn't know anything." The waitress drops off her drink and he says, "Tell me about yourself, Elizabeth."

"Lizzy. I'm a bank teller."

"That's it?"

"Quit being so nosy," Noah whispers in my ear.

"Ssh," I shush him. He's making me miss their conversation.

"Don't you want to go home?" He kisses my neck. "Poor Leo is at home all by himself. He needs a treat for being a good boy, and I need a treat for being a good hockey player and fiancé."

I roll my eyes, but Marc's laugh pulls me back to his conversation.

"Why do I need to smile?" Lizzy asks.

"I want to know you're capable. And if you can be this beautiful frowning, then I can't imagine what you'd be like smiling."

"You're full of shit," Lizzy fires at him. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"And you're a piece of work," he easily replies.

I poke his arm and he looks at me. "What are you doing?" I whisper, watching Lizzy attempt to remove his arm from her shoulders and he puts it right back.

"Are you upset that I called her the most beautiful woman I've ever seen? Are you getting jealous, Meredith? You hear this, Rams?" I laugh as he wiggles his eyebrows at me. "Your woman wants me." He yelps and swivels to look at Lizzy, who is now smiling and laughing.

"Are you sure you want him at our wedding?" Noah asks me.

"Absolutely. We can't not invite everyone's favorite Rebel."

Noah shakes his head. "Mere, I love you, but the love fest with Marco has to stop."

I roll my eyes. "Don't be jealous. You're the one who gets to take me home and who gets to marry me. That means you're extra special."

He grins, but then we're distracted by the screech Lizzy's chair makes as she scrambles out of it. If it wasn't for Scott reaching out to steady her, she'd be on the floor right now. She looks angry as she says something to him, but I can't hear what.

Marc must, though, because he says, "Hey, I was just messin' with you, Elizabeth. No need to get your panties in a bunch and leave."

She quickly glares at him. "It's Lizzy!" she nearly shouts.

The table falls silent at the commotion.

"You're one uptight woman, aren't you?"

Oh, my god! What is Marc doing? Why does he keep sticking his foot in his mouth? Lizzy's jaw nearly hits the floor.

"That's enough, Marco," Scott tells him.

"Marco?" Lizzy asks, confused much like I was when I first heard it.

"His last name is Polinski, so they call him Marco Polo," I say.

It takes all of a second before she's holding her stomach while she laughs. She's definitely drunk. Maybe that's why she's a bit on the bitchy side? Or maybe she's just too nervous? "Marco," she laughs.

"Polo," Marc answers, sending her into hysterics again. He seems mesmerized by her. I don't get it. They have obviously not hit it off. But he must see something I don't. The moment she calms down, she starts laughing again after glancing at Marc. "Go on a date with me."

Lizzy immediately stops laughing. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Yes!" Sylvia shouts. "She says yes."

"I do not." Lizzy shakes her head.

"You said if there was a spark, you'd let me set you up," Sylvia says.

"There's no spark," Lizzy insists. There's _something_ going on for Marc to ask her out. I don't think he's even been on a date since I met him. "There's not!" Lizzy exclaims. She looks to Scott for help. He says something to her, I can't make out what, but after some back and forth, she turns to Marc. "Okay." To Scott, she says, "Now take me home."

"I'll take you," Marc quickly says.

"She'd love that," Sylvia answers for her once again.

"He's been drinking," Lizzy replies.

Marc grins, says, "Haven't touched it," and lifts his beer to prove it.

After a moment, Lizzy gives in. "Fine."

Marc puts his arm around her shoulders again and says, "See you guys later," as he begins to lead her away.

"Did he pay for his beer?" Noah asks the waitress as she brings him another water since he has to drive home. She shakes her head and he hands her some cash to cover it.

"Aw, you're such a good friend," I tell him.

"He'll just have to buy me a beer when he eventually takes us out to dinner. You ready to go?"

I want to discuss Lizzy with Sylvia some more, but Noah has never asked if I was ready to leave before, so I'm assuming he's tired and ready to go. "Sure," I answer. Poor Leo is probably ready for us to be home, too.

The ride home seems to take too long. I start yawning and realize I'm tired too. We're completely surprised to find Marc's truck pulling into an empty parking space on the other side of my car. What is he doing here?

"What's up?" Noah asks once we're all out of our vehicles.

"I found her," Marc answers.

"What? Who is she?" Noah asks, like he knows what's going on.

Well, I don't! "Who are we talking about?"

"It's Elizabeth," Marc says.

Okay, that tells me nothing.

"No shit. Really?" Noah seems surprised, and I do not like being the only one who is clueless.

"Can someone please fill me in?" My question is more of a demand than anything.

"Let's go inside," Noah says. As we walk to the elevators, he starts explaining things to me. "Marco met someone at the Halloween party, had sex with her in his truck, but she ran away. He asked a few of the guys about her, but no one remembered seeing her. He's been obsessively thinking about her ever since. Turns out, the girl from the party is Lizzy. You're all caught up."

"Oh." So, Marc has already met Lizzy, and he _likes_ her? We step off the elevator.

"What's with the lackluster oh?" Marc asks.

"Well, Sylvia told me a while back she wanted to set you up with someone, and that it would take a lot of convincing for whomever it was and that she was hoping the whole opposites attract thing would work. I can't imagine you with someone like Lizzy based on what Sylvia said and how she was tonight."

Noah unlocks the door. I go straight to Leo. I'd rather stay and get more details, but Leo needs to go out. I excuse myself, hoping I can wrap my mind around what I've learned by the time I return. If Marc wants to go after Lizzy, then we need to be supportive. I just can't believe he hit it off with her, especially since she didn't reciprocate that at all. The most I can do is wish them luck, and hope if they do start dating, that she doesn't break Marco's heart.

When I make it back to the apartment, Marc is about to leave. He kisses my cheek and makes his escape. I look at Noah who shrugs before going to sit on the couch.

"Don't shrug at me," I say as I unhook Leo's leash from his collar.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Tell me what was said while I was outside with Leo." I plop down onto the couch next to him.

"Marco has his hands full with this girl. That's pretty much all that was said."

I already figured as much. "Think she'll be Marc's date to our wedding?"

"If Marc has anything to say about it, yeah."

"Who's coming to our wedding anyway?" I reach over and grab the legal pad off the end table as well as a pen. I flip to a clean page and write 'Guest List' at the top.

Noah reaches over, plucks the paper and pen out of my hand and tosses them both behind the couch.

"What—?"

"We'll do it tomorrow," he interrupts, grabbing my hand and pulling me into his lap. "I let you have your way and we talked wedding details last time. This time, I'm having my way." His hands glide up my arms until they cup the back of my neck. He pulls me closer, my forehead resting against his. "I'm glad you came back to me," he tells me quietly.

"Best decision I ever made."

Noah flashes a grin before kissing me. Definitely the best thing I ever did.

Newsletter Sign Up

Stay up-to-date on books, news, sales,

and giveaways by signing up for my newsletter!

<http://eepurl.com/hqcTw>

***

###  Acknowledgements

THANK YOU, KRISTALYN Thornock. You have been so helpful and I don't know what I would do without you. Best friend and best helper a girl could ask for!

Thank you, Heidi Grubb. I'm so grateful that you take the time to beta read for me!

Thank you, Shannon Page. You are such a pleasure to work with and you do a great job.

Thank you, Robin from Wicked by Design. You always work with me and give me a cover I love. I'm also super in love with the logo.

Thank you, Julie from JT Formatting. You're simply the best! I love working with you and you're simply awesome.

Thank you, reader. I'm excited about returning to hockey romance with the Carolina Rebels series and I hope you'll enjoy this new adventure with me! Thank you for your support. I couldn't do this without you!

***

LINDSAY PAIGE IS the author of multiple Young Adult, New Adult, and Sports romances. She has also coauthored sports romances with Mary Smith. Along with writing, she loves reading, watching hockey, especially the Pittsburgh Penguins, and finding funny terrible puns and recipes on Pinterest. All the while, she is also focused on completing college.

Lindsay resides in North Carolina and is inspired by the world around her and the people in it. She is currently working on numerous solo works.

If you would like to hear news before anyone else, interact with Lindsay, and have a place to discuss her book with fellow fans, join Lindsay's League (https://www.facebook.com/groups/lindsaysleague/) on Facebook.

Author Links:

Website: lindsaypaige.com

Twitter: twitter.com/lindsaypaige11

Facebook: facebook.com/authorlindsaypaige

Pinterest: <https://www.pinterest.com/authorlindsay/>

Instagram: <https://www.instagram.com/authorlindsaypaige/>

Lindsay has written the following books/series:

Bending Under Pressure (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/bending-under-pressure/)

Bold as Love series (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/sweetness/)

Bracing for Love series (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/bracing-for-love/)

Carolina Rebels series (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/carolina-rebels-series)

Don't Panic (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/dont-panic/)

Sanity series (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/driving-me-mad/)

Without a Doubt (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/without-a-doubt/)

You Before Me (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/you-before-me/)

She has co-written the following series:

The Penalty Kill trilogy (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/breakaway/)

Oh Captain, My Captain series (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/looking-for-you/)

The Ninth Inning series (http://www.lindsaypaige.com/feli/)

***

Here's a sneak peek of _Because It's You_ , which includes a prologue and the first chapter. Please note that this is **not** the final version. There may be changes/differences between this and what is included in the final version of _Because It's You_.

THIS IS UTTERLY ridiculous. How did I let Sylvia talk me into this? She's given me space, but I don't know if that's a good thing or not. All I've done so far is stand at the bar, order drinks, and drink them. Well, I keep pulling my dress down too. It shouldn't even be called a dress.

Sylvia's bright idea was to put me in a piece of green cloth that starts across my breasts and ends two inches from my ass. I feel like either a nipple or cheek is about to pop out and flash everyone at any second. My dress is layered with green leaves and vines. I'm wearing green fish net stockings, a red pair of stilettos, or hooker heels as I deemed them, and a mask over my eyes that has leaves over it. I'm even wearing a red wig. I'm supposed to be Poison Ivy from one of the _Batman_ movies, but I feel like a pile of leaves with a touch of Christmas with all the red going on.

It's bad enough she wants me to start dating again, but to insist I come to this Halloween party hosted by one of Scott's friends is crossing the line! No, the line was crossed when she dressed me in this...this... _thing!_ Sure, my boobs look good, but that's what happens when you're wearing a lacy push up bra, because yes, she even bought my undergarments. My face had to be as red as the wig on my head when I saw that was included in the bag. On top of everything else, the wig is making me hot. It seems hot in here anyway. The last thing I need is to start sweating.

My dear sister-in-law is out of her mind. She said she just wants me to look great and have fun, but she's hoping I get laid.

Fat chance of that happening.

She couldn't pay me to have sex with someone. How many times does she need to hear, "I'm not ready," before it gets through that thick skull of hers? Apparently, more times than I feel like saying it.

Needing a break from the noise, I carefully walk to where I think the bathrooms are. I wear heels often enough, but none this high. I've been drinking tonight as well. I need to be extra careful to avoid falling. When I find the hallway, I begin to feel dizzy, so I lean against the wall. If I'm not careful, I'll move the wrong way and my dress will expose either my top or my bottom. Not thirty seconds pass with my hand on my forehead when a door squeaks.

"Are you okay?"

My knees weaken at the sound of a voice which is pure sin even with such simple and few words. I lift my head to see a man wearing a speedo. It's the colors of the Canadian flag, which is kind of odd, and in the middle, barely concealing a tempting looking dick, is the maple leaf. There's a medal hanging around his neck, too. When I manage to lift my eyes even higher, I see the bright blue eyes of a man with a beautiful grin, a slightly crooked nose that's probably been broken at some point, and short blond hair.

Damn. He's as good looking as his voice portrays.

"Are you?" he presses.

"Am I what?"

His grin widens. "Are you okay?"

"Oh. I'm fine."

His gaze travels down my body, at first causing shivers, but then I wonder if my dress has moved, so I look down at myself. Nope. Dress is still covering me.

"You look hot."

My head snaps up so quickly, it's no wonder I don't bump it on the wall behind me.

"What are you doing hiding in a hallway by the bathrooms?"

"I just needed a break. It's crazy in there." My freaking eyes keep dropping to the maple leaf. It's just there! Standing out since it's red on white and not to mention, there's the fact that it's doing a terrible job of concealing his dick.

"Not a fan of parties?" There's a teasing in his voice that his seemingly ever-present grin confirms.

"Not really." My eyes drop again. Man, I should get laid. This guy is toned and obviously has a good package. Maybe Sylvia was right. I should let loose. At least for one night. With the liquid courage coursing through me as my heart pulses so hard I can feel it everywhere from my head and down lower, I look into Baby Blue's eyes. His mouth parts with another question, I assume. That seems to be all he does. Ask questions. That should stop. Before I can think this through, I launch toward him.

Baby Blue is surprised, but he grabs my hips. My hooker heels are amazing because they help lift me up to his height. When I press my lips to his, he kisses me back. His mouth parts and I slide my tongue inside, tasting alcohol. Suddenly, I'm pressed against the wall with my legs hooked around his hips and the maple leaf is getting acquainted with my lacy red boy shorts. His hands are holding my bottom and his fingertips dig in hard enough to cause an oddly pleasurable pain.

Fuck me now, he can kiss!

The pang in my chest at the realization that this is the best kiss of my life can't be heard over the roar of my heartbeat.

"Let's get out of here," he whispers against my lips before kissing me again. All I can do is nod because there's no way I'm voluntarily removing my mouth from his. Baby Blue is walking and the next thing I know, he's opening the door to a truck and setting me in the back seat. I walk backward on my hands as he crawls in after me. He kisses me hard, stealing my breath away.

I open my mouth to complain when he stops, but then he opens the center console in the front seat to grab a condom. That's when I panic. I can't do this! This is wrong. I don't know anything about him, not even his name. I know nothing! Most importantly, he's not my husband. This is a _bad_ idea.

Baby Blue starts kissing me again. A loud moan resounds in the cab as his fingers graze over my panties. Shit. That moan was from _me_. The urge to leave floats away. I'm too consumed by a man wearing a Canadian speedo.

How is this my life right now?

"What's your name?" he mumbles between kisses down his trail to my cleavage.

"Ivy," I lie.

He chuckles. "Makes sense." He lifts his head with that cocky grin. "Mind if I fuck you, Ivy?"

"Please," I beg. God, who am I? There's no time to think about it. Baby Blue has pushed down the speedo and put on a condom without me noticing. He pushes my panties to the side and enters me. His truck is quickly filled with moans and groans and grunts and pants. For a few blissful minutes, I'm not Elizabeth, or Lizzy, or a widow. I'm not the woman who avoids fun and happiness like it could kill me. I'm not the woman who has to be convinced for two weeks that I should go out and attend a Halloween party.

Unfortunately, I'm apparently a woman who after a few too many drinks can be easily persuaded to climb into the back of a truck and fuck a stranger. This thought doesn't hit me until after our orgasms, which were way too good for sex in a vehicle.

"I need to go."

"What? Why?" Baby Blue asks, but I'm already slipping out from underneath him and nearly falling out of the truck as I open the door and try to get away.

I adjust my dress, kick off my heels, grab them, and run to the other side of the building where I parked as Baby Blue calls out, "Ivy!"

God, what have I done? I rip off my mask once I get onto the road. I'm so thankful I left my keys in my car and didn't carry anything inside with me. This is not who I am. My sob can't be helped. I've betrayed him. That is definitely not what he would've wanted for me.

"I'm so sorry, Roger. I'm so sorry."

"I'M NOT GOING," I say for the millionth time. Sylvia is really starting to piss me off with her insistence that I go on a date with some guy I don't even know. She keeps setting me up on dates, each seemingly worse than the prior one. I was able to push her off some after Halloween and that disaster. She knew that was a bad time for me, even if she didn't know exactly why, as I never told her what happened.

"Lizzy, at least meet him before you make up your mind," she tries, going for a new tactic.

My mind is already made up. I don't know why she's wanting me to go out with this guy so bad. She knows I don't like to date. She knows I have no interest in dating, especially after Halloween. There are too many other things in life I'm choosing to focus on instead.

"Meet him and if there's no spark, then we won't set you up. You can come with me to the game, and we'll go to the bar with the guys afterward."

That's when it hits me. "He's a _hockey player_? Come on! No." My voice turns cold and hard. "You should know better, Sylvia. It's not happening."

Her gaze fills with pity and I hate it. Everyone always looks at me with pity when the briefest of thoughts enter their mind. Her voice softens. "Don't say no because of that. He's a really great guy, and I think he'll be good for you."

Good _for_ me. Not necessarily _to_ me. Sylvia has good intentions, I know. She wants me to jump back on the dating wagon and be happy again. Her intentions are off, though. She wants me to go on a date with this guy for my own sake. He'd be good for me. At least she thinks he will. She thinks he'll make me smile again. Make me loosen up. Make me have fun and be happy again. I don't know if that is possible. She thought I was resistant before? I've been even more so since Baby Blue. God, just thinking his name makes me feel weak in the knees and sick all at once, and that's not even his real name!

It's been ridiculous how often I've thought about him. How often I've dreamt about him and woke myself up from the orgasm in my dream. For a few moments, I smile and feel good. Then the guilt drags me down. I don't want to date anyone and definitely not a hockey player.

However, I can't stand Sylvia looking at me like she is.

"Fine. But I'm not going to the game."

"Please? You'll be too busy talking to us to even pay attention to it."

"Fine." I'm tired of arguing with her. That's all we do lately. Besides, I can always leave if the game becomes too much for me. "Is Scott even okay with you trying to hook me up with one of his teammates?"

When Sylvia glances away to take a sip of her drink, I know Scott doesn't have a clue.

"Sylvia! Are you insane?" I definitely can't do it now. It's just odd altogether.

"I'll tell him. He wants you to be happy too, you know. He won't argue too much."

Either way, that won't be my problem. Hell, maybe Scott will end up being on my side. Sylvia talks about how good this will be and I eventually tell my beloved sister-in-law that I have to go. My hands start trembling as soon as I walk out the door. Am I really going to a hockey game tonight? I've avoided all sports on ice for five—almost six—years now.

While I've come a long way, I still struggle in some aspects. I'm not sure the void will ever be filled, but I do the best I can. Despite Sylvia's good intentions, this date will probably end up like the rest she's made me go on this year. For some reason, she's decided that this is the year I become happy again. I'm not unhappy, but I'm not happy either. I'm in this odd place in between where I can't go back, but I can't move forward either. I'm stuck where I am.

And out of all the crazy men Sylvia has set me up with, she thinks a hockey player is going to be the one for me? Maybe I should talk to Scott because she's losing her damn mind. Just thinking about the game and his job makes me want to throw up and I don't even know which of Scott's teammates it is. Not that I would really know. I've stayed away from that part of his life.

Time flies by and too soon, Sylvia is here to pick me up. That's one way to make sure I show up. She frowns at my outfit choice, but doesn't try to convince me to change. I'm in simple jeans and T-shirt. I'm not here to impress anyone.

"You could've at least worn team colors," she mumbles as she pulls out onto the highway.

My bright yellow shirt definitely isn't the navy, black, or silver colors the team wears. "What's the guy's name?"

"Marc." She begins telling me all about him. "He's best friends with Noah Ramsey. He's a fun guy with a great personality. He may seem a bit full of himself, but it's all in good humor." I start tuning out after that.

The closer we get to the arena, the tenser I get. Sylvia knows this is seriously pushing my limits and I fear I'll break. My mouth stops functioning, turning me mute as we park and head into the arena. I don't want to be here, especially not for a man. I don't pay attention as she leads me up stairs and eventually to a door. On the other side is a group of ladies and a few kids. I don't belong here with the wives and girlfriends.

A soft gasp escapes me when I see the ice. To everyone else, it probably looks normal with the red and blue lines and the Rebels logo in the middle. It's shiny as it reflects all the overhead lights and looks slick from where a Zamboni probably went over it not too long ago.

But all I see is red.

Blood.

Lots and lots of blood.

A black tunnel narrows my vision. I'm overwhelmed with a sense of lightheadedness. My body feels light and heavy all at once. My chest starts heaving as I struggle for control.

"Lizzy? You okay?"

It gets worse as I hear the players with the slicing of their skates on the ice. Unwanted memories surge forward and consume me. I shake my head and back out of the room. I have to get out of here. _Now._ Outside the room and in the hallway, I fall onto my butt, rest my forearms on my knees and my head on my arms, and try to take deep breaths. This proves that it was idiotic to think that I could do this. Sylvia comes to check on me, but I'm too lost in my own head to answer. Air seems to evaporate and I struggle to breathe properly. All I see is red, and all I feel is panic and horror. I stare down at my stomach, repeatedly reminding myself that there is only a yellow shirt and not pools of blood on ice instead.

Eventually, I calm myself down, lifting my head to see Sylvia sitting next to me.

"Better?"

I nod.

"You should probably go see someone," she says gently.

No, what I should do is avoid what causes me to react like this. "I'm just going to sit out here. I can't..." I wince as if I can still hear the skates on the ice. "I can't deal with the sounds. You don't have to sit with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

She heads back inside the room. To distract myself, I pull out my phone and play a game. Should I even stick around to meet Marc? I can't even listen to him play. What's the point of seeing if there's a spark? It'll never work. I can't be supportive when I can't stand the sport anymore. I should get up and find another way home, but I don't even know if I'm capable of standing right now. Back and forth, I struggle with what to do. Apparently, I don't decide in time. Sylvia comes out with a smile, lets me know the team won, and then we're heading to the bar.

I order an amaretto sour to calm my nerves. Who knew I'd be nervous about this, especially with all the false bravado I was able to muster at the party? Two women approach our table and Sylvia introduces me to Theresa, Nathan O'Donnell's wife, and then to Meredith Quick, Noah Ramsey's fiancée, who kind of looks familiar for some reason. I'm too anxious to think about why she might be familiar, though. A few more women arrive, but I stay quiet, choosing to listen to their conversations. I finish two drinks before the guys arrive.

"Ladies," I hear as an arm lands on my shoulder, causing me to tense. "Your favorite Rebel is here." The voice is sexy and manly. It's the kind of voice where if you ever had phone sex, you'd want this voice on the other end. I wince a little because if I tried, it could sound just like Baby Blue. Gulping, I find courage to turn to look at him.

All I can do is stare.

Blond hair.

Slight crooked nose.

Blue eyes.

Oh my god.

It's Baby Blue!

"You I don't know," he continues talking. "What's your name, beautiful?" If possible, his grin grows, looking exactly as I remembered.

My name? What is my name? I rack my mind but can't think of my fucking name!

"Marc, this is Elizabeth," Sylvia quickly jumps in. "We call her Lizzy, though."

This is Marc?

Holy shit.

Baby Blue is the guy Sylvia wants to set me up with?

Baby Blue is Marc.

Marc is a hockey player.

Therefore, Baby Blue is a hockey player.

No, no, no, no, no!

Marc leans in, smelling fresh and clean from his shower, and softly kisses my cheek. "Nice to meet you, Elizabeth," he whispers in a voice so low and seductive I have to stop myself from shivering and melting into a puddle. He pulls away, seemingly unaffected, and waves the waitress over.

He looks so different with a suit on instead of that speedo. But he's still so handsome and beautiful. Yes, he's a man—a beautiful, beautiful man.

This needs to stop.

It can't happen.

Scott, Noah, Nathan, and a few other guys arrive, and Scott introduces me to each of them. I glance at Sylvia who is a grinning fool. Marc's arm is still around my shoulders. I look to Scott for help but he's laughing over something Noah said.

"How'd you get included in this group?" Marc asks once he has a beer in his hand.

"I'm an old friend of Scott and Sylvia's," I reply stiffly. If I mention being their sister-in-law, there will be questions and I'm not going there. I lift my third drink and down half of it. This is insane. I shouldn't be here, especially not with Baby Blue. God, why couldn't he have just been a wonderful memory?

"Just in town visiting then?"

"No, I live here."

"Then how come I've never seen your lovely face before?"

I level my gaze at him. Part of me wants to remind him that he's seen my face, and other parts of me, but I don't. "Lovely, really?" Clearly, I'm going to need more alcohol. I finish off my drink and before I can wave the waitress over, Marc has ordered me another.

"You are quite possibly the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, and I've seen a lot of beautiful women."

Meredith giggles and Marc cuts her a playful glare.

"I'm guessing by her laugh, that's another line." I wonder if he counts me as Ivy as one of those beautiful women.

"Ignore Meredith. She doesn't know anything," he says as the waitress returns with my drink. "Tell me about yourself, Elizabeth."

"Lizzy," I correct. I've always disliked how formal my name sounds. Hell, at this point, I almost wish he'd call me Ivy. _Almost._ "I'm a bank teller."

"That's it?" He raises an eyebrow.

"That's it." What else am I supposed to say? Past relationships aren't something you talk about to begin with and I am definitely not going there. What I like to do? Seriously? No. I've already decided I'm not going out with him.

"Did you go to the game tonight?"

"Yep."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Nope."

Finally, his smile falters, and for some reason, I feel a little guilty. Marc doesn't know what to do with me, not that I can fault him for that. Unfortunately, this means he's trying a new technique. "Do you ever smile, Elizabeth?"

"Lizzy," I correct again. "And of course."

"Let me see it."

I frown.

"That's not a smile," he laughs.

My eyes narrow. "Why do I need to smile?"

"I want to know you're capable. And if you can be this beautiful frowning, then I can't imagine what you'd be like smiling."

"You're full of shit. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"And you're a piece of work."

My jaw drops and my eyes widen. Why did Sylvia think we would hit it off? I ignore him and pick up my drink, steadily sipping. I like him better as Baby Blue when talking was not a priority. His thumb brushes my shoulder and I realize his arm is still around my shoulders. I pluck it off, but he moves it right back. He's not even paying attention to me anymore because he's talking to Meredith, making her laugh like he's a comedian. He's not that funny. I move his arm _again_. It's useless, though.

His suit jacket is open, exposing a white dress shirt underneath. I pinch his side hard. Marc yelps like a little girl and that makes me smile and giggle.

Marc doesn't even seemed that bothered. My laughter stops as he leans in to whisper in my ear again. "Beautiful smile, Elizabeth. Even better laugh." God, that voice is to die for. Marc chuckles.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"You like my voice?"

My eyes widen. "I said that out loud?"

"Yes, you did."

I push him away, not liking how much I like having him so close or how I'm wishing I could have him as Baby Blue instead of Marc. "Get your arm off of me."

"You like me," he grins.

"I don't know you."

"But you like what you do know."

That couldn't be truer. "No, I don't."

Marc leans in again as I quickly finish off my drink. "I think you do, Elizabeth."

" _Lizzy_ ," I correct, but he ignores me as usual.

"I think you're insanely attracted to me. I think you're already all hot and bothered. I—"

I've heard enough. Baby Blue, I'm definitely attracted to, and I've been hot and bothered since I heard his voice again. But Marc, I don't think I like very much. I nearly fall out of my seat, trying to get away from him. Thankfully, Scott keeps me from falling flat on my ass. "Take me home," I quietly order him. "Your wife is fucking insane. I can't do this, Scott. Take me home."

"Hey," Marc starts. "I was just messin' with you, Elizabeth. No need to get your panties in a bunch and leave."

I glare at him. "It's Lizzy!" My voice is too loud, gathering the attention of our entire table.

"You're one uptight woman, aren't you?"

My jaw drops in outrage for the second time tonight.

"That's enough, Marco," Scott gruffly says from behind me.

"Marco?" I question with confusion. I thought his name was Marc.

"His last name is Polinski, so they call him Marco Polo," Meredith explains.

That cracks me up. Not just a giggle. I'm talking gut busting laughter. "Marco," I laugh.

"Polo," Marc replies with a flat tone, which only causes me to laugh harder.

"How many drinks has she had?" I faintly hear Scott asking Sylvia.

My laughter starts to die down and I wipe the tears from my eyes, but one look at Marc has me giggling again. That's just the craziest thing I've ever heard. This hot guy with the voice of an angel, or devil depending on how you look at it, is called Marco Polo like the pool game I used to play when I was a kid. God, I don't remember the last time I laughed like this. Or at all.

"Go on a date with me."

That's one way to make me stop. "What?" He can't be serious. I haven't even shown any interest in him!

"You heard me."

"Yes!" Sylvia bursts. "She says yes."

"I do not," I say, shaking my head.

"You said if there was a spark, you'd let me set you up," she reminds me.

"There's no spark." We've caught the attention of the entire table and they are all looking at me like I'm lying. "There's not!" I mean, he's hot and I already know the sex is great, but that hardly counts as a spark. I turn to Scott, fully intending on telling him to take me home, but he shocks me when he speaks first.

"You should give it a chance," he says quietly.

"What?" For a moment, I hate him. He knows what it means to me for him to say this. I wish he wasn't. I wish he didn't care so much and would let me live my life the only way I know how since my world stopped and starting spinning in the opposite direction.

Scott leans down and whispers, "He'd want you to try."

The dam is threatening to break, but I contain the tears and swallow hard to push down the sob waiting to break out. I turn to Marc. "Okay." Then I face Scott, "Now take me home."

"I'll take you," Marc offers.

"She'd love that," Sylvia blurts out. I swear, I'm going to kill her!

"He's been drinking," I try.

Marc grins. "Haven't touched it." He lifts his beer. It doesn't look like he's had but a sip.

Crap.

"Fine."

How did I get myself into this mess?

***

***
