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9

NOAH

“Come on, Nash!” I shout across the open space. “You’ve got it.” He launches the tiny football through the air, and I catch it easily.

“Yes!” he shouts, jumping with excitement.

“High five, bud!” I raise my hand. “That was awesome.” He runs to me and slaps my hand so hard I have to shake out the pain. “Dang, you’ve got a lot of power for a little guy.”

“A little guy?” Nash says with raised brows, then turns to a side stance I’m all too familiar with from my Taekwondo practice. “ Yeop chagi !” he shouts, and I hop out of the way before he gets a chance to send that little foot flying towards me in a side kick.

“ Kalryeo, ” I beg with a laugh.

He freezes, standing straight. “You know Korean?”

“No,” I admit. “Just from Taekwondo.”

“What belt are you?” he asks, eyes shining with interest.

“Second dan black belt.”

His eyes widen. “Wow.”

“You going to shoot a kick my way again?” I ask with a cocked brow.

He shakes his head furiously, and I chuckle. “Come on, let’s go grab some water.”

My eyes wander to Charlotte, who’s coloring with Denny on the picnic table at our camping spot near Ichetucknee Springs. I set up the tents when we arrived, one for Charlotte and her siblings and one for me, with zero issues. Mainly thanks to Tony’s twenty-minute camping crash course he gave before allowing us to leave the house, but hey, Charlotte doesn’t have to know.

“You wanna do something fun?” I ask Nash after rehydrating, noting the sun’s beginning to set.

His eyes light up. “Yes!”

“Go collect some long, thin sticks and put them over there.” I point toward the pile of logs I brought to start up our bonfire. He obliges, roping Denny into helping him halfway through.

“Be really careful around this, okay?” I tell the twins as I strike a match and throw it onto the brush I placed for kindling under the logs.

“Yes, Noah,” they chime in unison.

In my tent, I grab the supplies for the next item on the list of “Top 5 Things to do While Camping,” and when I return, Charlotte grins at me.

“S’mores?” she asks, looking down at the two bags in my hands.

“Yep.” I beam. “It’s not camping without s’mores.” At least not according to my research.

I take two thin sticks Nash found and stake marshmallows through them, then hand one to him and the other to Denny. I grab one for myself and demonstrate how to roast them to perfection. Well, I try. Only ten are burned before they get the hang of it. I don’t mind. That’s why I brought extra.

I meticulously stack a graham cracker, toasted marshmallow, piece of chocolate, and another cracker on top. Pressing it together, I grin satisfactorily at my handiwork. Like riding a bike. Charlotte sits beside me on a log, a pretty smile on her face, watching her siblings laugh and giggle as they consume their weight in gooey goodness. We might regret this later when they need to go to bed.

Two six-year-olds pumped with sugar? Yikes.

“Here,” I say, holding out my perfect creation.

“Thanks.” She accepts the offering.

“Have you enjoyed losing your camping virginity?” I ask as she takes a bite, chocolate oozing out and trickling down her chin.

New rule: don’t lick the chocolate off Charlotte’s face.

She nods, swallowing. “Definitely.” She wipes the tasty temptation off with her thumb and sticks it in her mouth, sucking it clean. Blood, stay out of dick. Her attention returns to Denny and Nash.

“Maybe we should take them to do stuff like this more often,” I find myself saying, the idea of spending time with her appealing. I’ve got a no relationship rule, sure. But hanging out with a friend shouldn’t be a distraction… right?

Her curious eyes flick to mine. “Really?”

I shrug, shoving all counter arguments to the who-gives-a-fuck department. “Yeah, why not?”

Charlotte scans my face, her lips dropping to a frown, and she looks away, her knee bouncing.

“Hey,” I say softly, and her gaze returns to mine, unreadable. “What was that?”

“What was what?” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Where did you go there?” I wring my fingers together, fighting the urge to place a hand on her anxious leg. “You were happy, and then…”

“The truth?”

“Always.”

“First, I was thinking I’d really enjoy us doing stuff with the twins.” My heart swells. “But then I thought how much it would hurt them when you move away later this year.”

And just like that, my swelling heart turns to a sinking stomach because, fuck . The last thing I ever want to do is hurt the twins, or her.

“Char.” I tilt my head to the side, and she looks down at her hands. “We don’t even know where I’ll end up yet.”

Her eyes are glossy in the firelight. “You’re graduating next week, then immediately touring Seattle.” She pauses. “They’re going to love you, by the way,” she assures me, gaze meeting mine. “Your life’s about to get super hectic. I don’t want to put any pressure on you to come see us.”

“Seeing you all would be as much for me as it would be for you.”

“How so?”

“I’m going to crave this…” Glancing around, I search for the right word. “Normalcy. Spending time with people who see me as more than a vessel for winning football games or for some kind of clout.”

“I promise I would never use you for clout.” Her lips quirk upward. “You’re really not that cool anyways.”

“Hey.” I throw a hand over my wounded ego.

“Kidding,” she says, nudging me with her shoulder. “It was just a… I don’t know, stupid thought, I guess.”

“It’s not stupid.” I reach out and rest my palm on her knee. Guess we’re breaking rules tonight. Her skin is hot under my touch, the heat blazing up my arm like a wildfire. She glances at my hand. Does she feel the flames too? Her sparkling eyes connect with mine. “I understand you’re afraid for them to get attached,” I say, although this seems less of a group concern. “But I promise I’m always gonna come back and see you. All of you.”

She smiles, nose scrunching. “Sorry I’m such a needy friend. I doubt the guys give you emotional shit like this.”

“You’d be surprised,” I say, removing my hand. Smart move. “Elijah’s turned into a big softy.”

“I’m well aware. Last week he wore a shirt that said, ‘World’s Best Boyfriend.’” She shakes her head, then continues, “‘Ask me about my Koalifications.’”

“Oh, I saw it. He’s been given the nickname mar- simp -ial for that.”

Charlotte snorts a laugh. “That’s a good one.” Her gaze connects with mine. “They’ve really found something special, huh?”

I memorize the way the flickering fire glistens in her eyes. The curve of her jaw as she trails her fingertips down it, brushing away a stray hair. “Yeah. They have.”

* * *

The high-pitched sound fills the air. Again.

And again, and again, and again.

All that sugar was definitely a bad idea.

Nash bounces around the dark campsite illuminated by the firelight, blowing with all his might into a little toy train whistle. Denny trails him like an energizer bunny, and just watching them exhausts me.

“Nash, what are you doing?” I ask him, paired with a teasing laugh.

“Scaring off bears!” he shouts, continuing the ear-screeching noise.

“There’s no bears out here,” I assure him.

“Okay, then the scary things,” he argues, and I shake my head as he continues his silly warding-off-evil dance.

“How are we ever going to get them to bed?” I ask Charlotte.

“They’ll wear out soon,” she promises with a laugh, picking up a candy wrapper and putting it into a trash bag. “Denny’s starting to fade. Nash will soon after.”

Nash zooms around the tent. Fading seems unlikely, but Charlotte knows them better than I do. I hope they’re enjoying this trip.

“You think the boys will forgive you for skipping Daytona?” Charlotte asks, gaze meeting mine.

I shrug. “They’ll survive.”

She suppresses a smile, the firelight dancing in her eyes. “They’re probably just heading out, and here we are, cleaning up for the night.”

“I’d take this over bar hopping any day.”

“Yeah?” She toys with the ends of her loose braid, gaze stuck on mine.

I nod. “Yeah.”

My skin flushes hot at the attention. Or maybe it’s the campfire?

“Lottie,” Denny says, interrupting our staring contest. “Will you take me to the bathroom?”

“Sure,” Charlotte says, turning to her. “And let’s grab your bedtime stuff so you can brush your teeth. You too, Nash.” She returns back to me. “Big sister duties await.”

“Do your thing,” I say, and she backs away with a smile that steals my lungs, then disappears to gather their stuff.

We freshen up in the bathrooms, and Charlotte ushers the kids to their tent, forcing them to bed despite Nash’s protests. Taking a seat by the fire, I wait in the hope we can continue talking without little ones interrupting us. Twenty minutes pass, and the low light from their tent fades to darkness.

Guess Charlotte went to sleep too.

I grab a bucket of water near the cooler and dump it on the fire, extinguishing the remaining embers, and my optimism. Entering my tent, I kick off my shoes, tug my shirt overhead, and toss it in the corner. I’m far from tired, so I pull out the Florida Times and flip through it. My attention catches on an article from the Opinion section.

Georgia Benson is the only child of the infamous Benson family, who first grew their fortune through real estate during the early 1800s, making her no stranger to the world of high society. One would assume she’d focus her time on tax breaks for the rich and rezoning to expand her family’s real estate empire; however, the impacts of her time in office are intriguing.

Benson has spent the last six years as the mayor of Longwood, a small Florida town. During her time in office, she successfully implemented multiple government-funded programs that benefit the constituents of the town, including Longwood’s Rehabilitation House, which assists those who are overcoming drug and alcohol addictions.

Benson’s program was inspired by a close friend who almost succumbed to opioid addiction, but thanks to a rehabilitation program in another state, was able to receive help. Benson wanted to develop the same assistance for her local community.

After inheriting the Benson fortune, which is an estimated $350 million, it’s clear Benson has set her sights on higher political aspirations. She’s even been rumored to have interest in running for president should the opp ? —

“Knock, knock,” Charlotte says, her voice clear given the thin tent. My attention is yanked from the article, and my heart rate skyrockets.

“Password?” I whisper, folding the paper and tossing it to the side so her mood isn’t ruined.

“Let me in before I get eaten by a bear!” She wants to come in?

I crawl through the tent and unzip it. “Didn’t Nash already scare them all away?”

She slides off her shoes and steps inside. “Not taking any chances.” She glances around before settling onto my full-sized air mattress. Charlotte’s on my bed. Again.

“Make yourself at home,” I tease, sliding the zipper shut as the mattress squeaks under her while she gets comfortable.

“What are you, a hundred?” she asks, grabbing the paper, and my stomach sinks. “People seriously still read the newspaper?”

“Hey.” I snatch it from her fingers, the crinkling sound echoing through the tent. “Some of us need to get our news from more reliable sources than TMZ .”

“I’m impressed you even know what that is.”

I narrow my eyes, rolling up the newspaper and hitting her hip with it.

“Hey!” she squeals, then quickly lowers her voice. “Shh, I don’t want to wake the kids.”

“You’re the one being loud,” I whisper, hitting her softly again, and she releases another quiet giggle.

“Fine.” She puts her hands in the air. “I surrender.”

I crawl up the bed, and she bounces as I make my way to sit beside her. Damn air mattresses. “They both asleep?” I’m assuming so, considering the silence from the tent beside us.

“Yes, they took forever ,” she huffs. “I blame the fourteenth marshmallow.”

“Thought it might be an issue.” I chuckle. “Is that why you’re still up?”

“Yeah,” she says, readjusting herself so we sit facing one another. “And I noticed your light was on. Is it okay I came over?”

“Of course. I couldn’t sleep either, hence the archaic reading.” Rolling away, I drag my backpack closer. “I did bring something in case we got bored.”

“Yeah?” She perks up, resting her arms on her knees. “What’s that?” After unzipping the front pocket, I pull out the hard card box and hand it to her. “‘365 Fun Facts,’” she reads out loud. “‘A fact a day keeps the doctor away.’ Cute.”

“I thought you’d like it.” Satisfied, I lie down against my pillow, placing my hands under my head. “Now read them to me so we can pick our favorite ones.”

She sorts through the cards, then says, “Fun fact number one: Scotland’s national animal is a unicorn.”

“How is that even legal? It’s not real.”

Charlotte cocks a brow. “Do not let Denny hear you say that.”

“Noted,” I say as she grabs another card.

“Fun fact number two: if stored properly, honey lasts forever.”

She smiles, biting her lip. How can one single person be this breathtaking? Her bright eyes flick up, meeting mine, and warmth spreads across my chest.

I hope we last like honey.

“That’s a good one,” she says.

“It is,” I croak out, and she returns her attention to the cards.

“Fun fact number three: you can hear a blue whale’s heartbeat from over two miles away.” She glances up at me with puzzled brows. “No way.”

I chuckle. “I didn’t write the cards.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes trail my body, and my skin tingles with awareness. She stretches her legs, lying down next to me, and slides down the mattress.

What is she doing?

She pauses near my chest and shifts closer, moving her braid to the other side, the end brushing my ribs and eliciting goosebumps.

What. The. Fuck. Is. She. Doing?

My gaze is glued to the back of her head, unable to conjure up a single coherent sentence.

Is she planning to suck my dick?

She drops her head to my bare chest, pressing her ear against it.

She. Is. Touching. Me.

I stop breathing as the scent of her shampoo wafts into my nose and I’m entirely surrounded by her.

What do I do?

My heart pounds.

This is definitely breaking rule number one.

“It’s silent out here,” she says, bringing a hand up and resting it on my stomach, her touch tortuous. “And still I can’t really hear your…” She shifts her head, fingertips dragging gently against my skin, eliciting goosebumps once more. Does she even realize what she’s putting me through? “Oh, there it is.” I release a shaky breath, hoping she doesn’t notice, as she uses her ear as a stethoscope. “It’s so fast. Aren’t athletes supposed to have a low resting heart rate?”

Yeah, except when a beautiful woman is touching him and her mouth is six inches from his dick!

“Uh-oh,” I force out, trying to take the topic off my rapidly beating heart. “Is Dr. Benson giving me a bad bill of health?”

“I might have to tell the NFL you’re not fit to play.” She rolls over, her opposite ear now resting against me as her gaze finds mine. “Then you’ll have to stay and take me and the twins camping every weekend.”

“How do you suggest I pay for all our camping gear if I don’t have a job?”

“OnlyFans.” Her tone is serious, but her eyes are teasing.

“I do not have the artistic capability to sell my body on the internet. That shit’s hard work.”

“You don’t have to post nudes,” she assures me. “You can just sell your bathwater.”

I choke a laugh. “Well, I guess I have my backup plan if the draft doesn’t go my way.”

“It will,” she assures me. And I hope to hell she’s right. A runaway hair frames her face, and I itch to reach out and hook it behind her ear. Within seconds I’m caving and doing just that. She places her hand on mine, stilling it against her face. Her lips quirk into a sweet smile, and I stop breathing. “Thank you again.”

I swallow hard. “For?”

“Being my friend.” She squeezes my hand. “I really need one right now.”

Friend.

“While I’m happy to always be the one you call, are things not good with the girls?”

“No, they’re great.” Charlotte sighs, and I rub my thumb along her knuckles. “They’re fine.”

“You can talk to me about anything,” I remind her, desperate for a look inside her head.

“I guess I always feel like the odd one out. Never the first choice. Sophia has Sage, Stella has Andi, and who do I have?”

Smiling, I brush my knuckles against her cheek. “You have me.”

Her face flushes, and she nuzzles it into my chest. “Okay.”

“Wow,” I tease, wrapping my arm around her and resting my hand on her back. “Such enthusiasm .”

Are we… snuggling?

She takes my chain between her fingertips, the gold ring and cornicello pendant clinking. “You rarely take this off.”

“Only for practice and games.”

“What’s its story?” she asks. “And please don’t say there isn’t one.”

I huff a laugh. “My mom gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.” Lips falling to a frown, I tap my fingers against her back, unsure how much to share. “The horn-shaped pendant symbolizes protection.”

“Is it an Italian thing?” she asks, her hand resting against me while she toys with the necklace.

“Yes, it’s called a cornicello . It’s supposed to ward off bad luck or the evil eye.”

“Evil eye?”

“Yeah.” A rock settles in my stomach at the thought of who Mom wants to protect me from. “Like people who are jealous of you or wish you harm.”

“I need one of those.”

“It’s actually bad luck to buy one for yourself,” I tell her, making a mental note. “The protection comes from it being gifted.”

“Well, it’s really cool. Thanks for sharing that with me,” she says softly, the metal jingling together. “And the ring? What’s that symbolize?”

A smile returns to my lips. “That symbolizes my nonna being way too invested in my personal life.”

“Go on.” Her eyes light up.

“When I visited Sicily last summer, Nonna kept asking me about my relationship status, or rather, lack thereof.” I laugh, recalling the memory of a playful conversation over learning to make her famous Pesto alla Siciliana . “I told her I was focusing on football and it would be a while before I had anything to report.” I place my hand on Charlotte’s, taking the ring between my own two fingers. “Later that day, she gave me this ring to pass on to someone I love when the time is right.” Charlotte’s gaze lingers on the gold band, mine on her. “And she said, ‘ Quannu amuri tuppulìa, ‘un lu lassari ‘nmenzu la via.’ ”

She was very adamant about that.

Charlotte’s eyes light up at the Italian phrase. “Care to translate?”

I gnaw at the inside of my cheek, her attention stripping away my armor. Making me vulnerable. “It means, ‘when love knocks, be sure to answer it.’”

Her thumb grazes my skin. “That’s so beautiful.”

You’re so beautiful.

A rustling outside the tent has me bolting up, Charlotte pressed to my chest, and our eyes lock.

“What was that?” Charlotte whispers, clutching my neck, and my heart pounds.

“Probably a raccoon,” I reply, squeezing her hand for reassurance, hoping to ease her fear. “Wait here.”

She releases me, and I quietly roll off the mattress, slip on my shoes, and grab a flashlight. Pausing, I listen for signs of movement. Hearing none, I unzip the tent and step out into the darkness.

“Be careful,” Charlotte whispers behind me, and her concern for my safety pleases me.

The twins’ tent is dark, and I shine the flashlight around the campsite, finding no signs of a furry friend.

Rounding the back of the tent, I direct the light into the trees, scanning. Chirping birds and singing cicadas are the soundtrack to what seems like the start of a horror movie.

A movement in the bushes catches my eye, and I consider getting a closer look but opt against it. It’s not as if I’m actually going to catch this vermin. Another loop around the twins’ tent and I deem it safe before returning to mine.

“And?” Charlotte asks, her head popped out of the opening.

“Luckily no serial killer, or you’d be pretty silly for showing yourself.”

She steps out, slipping on her shoes, breath heavy. “So coast is clear?”

“Yes, it’s—” Another loud scuffling in the bushes cuts off my reply. She flies against me, and my arm wraps around her, the other pointing the light toward the clamor and seeing nothing. “It’s okay,” I assure her, rubbing her back.

She presses her head against my bare chest again. “Your heart’s beating even faster now… You should get that checked out.”

I wrap both arms around her, resting my chin on top of her head. You’re safe. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Clearing her throat, she pulls away, and my arms fall to my sides. The warm summer breeze dances across my chest, amplifying her absence. “I should get back to the twins,” she says. “Don’t love the idea of them being alone with all these sketchy noises.”

“For sure,” I say stupidly as a strand of hair blows across her face, sticking to her lip. I reach out, grazing my thumb along her mouth to brush it away, and tuck it behind her ear. “Goodnight, Charlotte.”

“Goodnight, Noah.” A devastating smile spreads across her face, and she slowly backs toward the tent, breaking our connection.

Turns out I’m pretty bad at rules.

Who knew?

* * *

“It’s soooo hot,” Denny grumbles from her spot on my shoulders as we hike through the campgrounds.

“You’re not even walking!” I laugh, gripping her little legs. “Imagine how I feel.”

“You’re a football person, Noah, ” Denny points out. “You can carry a tiny person for infinite periods of time.”

“You sound too old for your age,” I say, shaking my head and opting not to mention I’m exhausted from barely sleeping last night. While I’m pretty sure it was nothing more than curious critters around us, I didn’t like Charlotte and the twins being unprotected.

Why did I suggest camping again?

“Denny did both our science projects this year,” Nash says matter-of-factly, and Charlotte’s head snaps to him.

“Excuse me, Mister?” she says with her eyebrows raised to her hairline as she folds her arms over her chest.

“I got an A.” Nash skips ahead, and Charlotte chases after him. They both laugh as she scoops him up, tickling his sides.

“That true, Denny?” I ask her.

“Yep.” Her little hands grip my forehead. “There were two ideas I wanted to test anyway.”

A small clearing filled with weeds appears up ahead.

“Look!” Charlotte shouts, grabbing Nash’s hand and running toward it.

Denny wiggles, and I put her down. I’ve hardly released my grasp before she sprints away, joining Charlotte and Nash as they pluck white fluff ball stems out of the ground.

Charlotte spins around with a huge smile on her face and hands full of dandelions. She skips over, holding one out to me. The unabashed joy is oozing out of her, and it surrounds me like a warm hug.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask, furrowing my brows at it.

“You’ve never wished on a dandelion?” Charlotte asks, appalled.

“No? Making wishes means you don’t think you have any control over your life. I take action to make the things I want happen.” And I do not like when I’m not in control.

“Seriously?” she deadpans, and I glance at the twins, who are joyfully blowing their way through the field. “You believe jewelry protects you from bad juju but draw the line at wishing on wildflowers?” She holds the dandelion in front of my face, and I realize we’re not leaving this field till I cave.

“Fine.” I roll my eyes in mock annoyance, snatching the stem, and she jumps with excitement. Adorable.

“Yes! Okay, okay.” She takes a deep breath. “First, put the dandelion in front of you.” She holds one before her face, inches from her mouth. “Close your eyes.” Her eyes flutter shut. “Think about your wish.” She pauses. “Then blow.” Her pretty lips part open, and she blows every petal off the dandelion. Her eyes pop open, and she grins down at the naked little weed as she tosses it to the ground, then looks up at me. “Your turn.”

I bring the flower in front of my face, inspecting it. Sensing her excitement in my peripheral, I opt to make a big show of it. Closing my eyes, I think of something I want but definitely have no control over, then blow forcefully. As I open my eyes, the flower practically turns to dust, its weightless seeds floating away along with my wish that will likely never happen.

“That was good,” Charlotte says, plucking the stem from my fingers. “It will definitely come true.”

She skips away, an infectious smile on her face as she spins around in the field, dandelions in her hair.

And if there’s one thing I wish more than anything, it’s that she’s right.