Page 41 of Hidden Goal

savannah

My heels hover above the floor as I tiptoe down the stairs. I’m not even half way down when the scent of freshly roasted coffee hits me. My sneaking around was definitely done in vain.

I peer around the corner and find Silas sitting on the couch in all his shirtless glory.

“There are mugs in the cupboard to the right of the microwave,” he calls out, never taking his eyes off of the TV.

My options are limited to running back up the stairs and waiting for Noah to finish his shower, or pulling my sleeves down over my hands and coming out from hiding. I choose the latter.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be up this early,” I say, sitting down beside him.

“I’m always up early.” He takes a sip from his cup before looking at me. “You don’t want coffee?”

“I don’t do well with caffeine,” I admit.

He doesn’t say anything annoying, like he’s made up of ten percent water and ninety percent coffee or something else I’ve heard too many times in my life. Instead, he crosses his arms, puts his feet up on the coffee table, and sinks back a little further into the couch.

The room is silent besides the rumbling of the SportsCenter highlights but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable.

There’s something about Silas’s presence that I actually find comforting, which is odd, because prior to this semester, I couldn’t tell you this kid's name. I didn’t know a single thing about any of the players on my dad’s team.

I knew Noah was the captain, and the list ended there.

I wrote every single one of them off as guys who could never be trusted.

I would have rather performed my own appendectomy than get to know any of them.

The last few weeks, however, whether through small interactions of my own or from stories Noah has shared with me, I’ve learned that they’re not so bad.

“Is that going to be you, too, one day?” I point to the replay of the Toronto game last night.

“Going pro? Nah.” He shakes his head. “I started playing for fun in high-school, didn’t think I’d actually be good at it.”

“So, what do the cards hold for you?”

“Real Estate.”

I must not control my shock very well because he laughs. “My family owns The Miller Group, it’s one of the largest real estate development companies out on The Cape.”

“Bayview Beach?”

“Mhmm.” He nods his head and runs his knuckles over his close-cropped beard.

“Is that where you're from?”

“Born and raised.”

The only thing ‘beach house’ about Silas is the fact that he hardly ever wears a shirt.

Other than that, it's hard to picture him in a backyard a stone's throw away from the shoreline. Although, from the way he talks, his tattoo-filled body, and his brute force on the ice, I can’t really get a read on him at all.

He's an enigma, and I kind of like that.

For a moment, I let myself wonder if Noah had come from a family of real estate developers, would he still feel the pressure to be so fucking perfect all the time?

While his dad might be the driving force behind his NHL goals, Noah is the one who gives all of himself to everything he does, so I’m not sure if anything would change much.

It feels like a fist squeezing around my heart when I think about the pressure that he’s been carrying around in silence for so long.

Noah is surrounded by people who love him and who want the best for him, yet he’s been carrying these burdens alone.

I have no idea how long he’s been suffering, and honestly, I don’t even think he knows how long it’s been.

It feels like he only admitted it to himself when he released some of that stress with me.

I might not have all the answers for him, but he at least knows I’m here.

As long as he continues to talk to me, I will always continue be here for him to lean on, and hopefully make some of that weight he’s carrying feel more manageable.

Noah bounds down the stairs, his hair still wet from his shower as he enters the kitchen and heads straight for the coffee pot.

“You need a top off, Milly?” he calls out.

“I’m good.” Silas stands from the couch, stretching his arms overhead. “I’ve gotta get going. I have some stuff to take care of before the game tonight,” he says. “Later, Starshine.”

“Later.”

They bump fists, and Silas grabs a sweatshirt before heading toward the stairs.

“See you at the game later, Sav.”

“Good luck tonight.” I call after him.

“Oh, King—Sage texted early this morning, said her friend was having a baby and she won’t be there tonight, so you’re in charge of leading the warm-ups.” He knocks his knuckles on the wall before heading up the stairs.

I look to Noah, who only nods. He grabs his cup and rounds the large kitchen island, plopping down on the empty stool.

I get up, and as if he had been waiting for me, he catches my wrist in his hand and pulls me to stand between his legs.

I lock my hands together at the nape of his neck, and without another word, he drops a kiss to the tip of my nose.

My eyes fall shut when he moves to my forehead, and then another kiss lands on my cheek.

Like it’s second nature, I run my fingers through his hair and get lost in his touch.

I know I have somewhere else to be, but right now, this is the only place I care about.

“We should get going,” I whisper, half-heartedly. “I still have to shower and change before meeting my dad and Leo.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he asks between kisses.

I giggle and gently push against his shoulders. If he keeps kissing my neck like this, we’re never going to get out of here.

“I’m sure. I really don’t think either of them will care. Leo might give me some shit, but in more of a taste-of-my-own-medicine kind of way.”

Noah’s hand splays across my back, a small laugh escaping him before he nips at his bottom lip.

“I think they’ll both just be happy that I’m happy,” I say, mostly to assure him.

“And you are, right?” His eyes search mine, more hopeful than I’ve ever seen them.

I hold his face between my hands and kiss him square on the lips.

I feel his smile turn up against my mouth and relief washes over both of us.

It took a lot for Noah to share his burdens with me, and if he needs me to remind him that I’m here and I’m with him, I’ll continue to do that for him.

“Happy is too underwhelming of a word for how I feel.”

He kisses me again, and I don’t miss the weight of his body relaxing against me as he nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck. I turn my head, giving him better access. It’s only now that I notice a pink bag with a print of oranges sitting on the counter.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Open it.” He kisses my jaw once more before pulling back and nodding toward the gift. “I saw it and thought of you.”

I keep my eyes on him and hesitantly reach for it. It’s covered in tissue paper, so I gently squeeze the sides. Solid. Round. Familiar.

My chest tightens and I haven’t even pulled it out. Judging by the way he’s smiling, he knows I’ve figured it out.

“I know it can’t replace your old one…”

I rummage through the tissue paper, pull out the new water bottle, and run my thumb over the glittery number thirty-three sticker on it.

“But this ones got my number on it.”

It’s so simple and so ordinary, yet it means everything to me.

At this point, I really shouldn’t be surprised.

He continues to not only notice things about me, but he remembers them.

He sees me in a way that I don’t think anyone else ever has.

Whether it’s my own fault for not being willing to trust someone enough to let them see me, or simply because that’s who he is, I’m not sure.

He sees through the sarcasm, the attitude, and the walls. He sees through everything.

I’ve fallen for the captain of the hockey team, and it’s not because of any sort of grand gesture, but because of the impossible way in which he sees me.

“It’s not the right color, but I thought for now it might?—”

“It’s perfect.” I cut him off. “It’s perfect.”

I cover his smile with a frantic kiss. His tongue parts my mouth, sending shivers down my spine, and I melt into him.

Walking out to Noah’s car, it’s habit now the way he holds out his keys for me .

My hold on my new water bottle tightens as I look down at the keys.

I bite the corner of my lip, thinking of the way the engine hums beneath my hands every time I’m in charge of the steering wheel.

Being in charge of the wheel has always been one small way I trick myself into believing I have control of my world.

The sunlight glints off his keys as he extends his hand closer to me.

The hesitation that I’ve always felt has eased, and it’s been replaced by something I can only describe as trust. Trust for someone who has only ever been patient with me, understanding of me, and who trusts me enough to open up about his own struggles too.

I inhale deeply and look up into his comforting eyes.

“You can drive.”

If it weren't a completely overcast day, I would have thought the sun moved directly in front of him by the way his face lit up. There's a dramatic shift in him and I know that this means something to him the same way it does to me.

We don’t say anything on the short drive back to my apartment. I just sit in the feeling of trusting Noah. I sit with the growth I can physically feel in myself, being able to give my full trust over to someone, and more than anything, I acknowledge what it all means.

We pull up to my apartment and Noah puts the vehicle in park before leaning his elbow on the center console.

Part of me wants to stay right here with him, soaking up this feeling forever. Another part of me wants to run before all the feelings coursing through my veins threaten to come out of my mouth.

I choose to silence the words in my head by dropping a kiss to his waiting mouth, and I open my door.

“What, no ‘good luck’ for me?” he calls out.

My Vans hit the pavement and I turn to face him. “You don't need it.”

“Would you bet on that? ”

A smile as easy as loving him is crosses my face.

“Yeah, I would,” I say. “Betting on you is as safe as betting on the sun rising.”

Is there a pep in my step? Am I bouncing?

The hostess at the diner gives me a double take and I scratch my head, concerned that this might be the first time she's ever seen me smile. My annoyingly happy mood doesn’t even diminish when I find Leo in our usual booth with his arm draped over the shoulders of a cute brunette.

“Mini me!” He beams up at me.

“Hi. I’m Savannah.” I ignore him, extending my hand to who I assume is his girlfriend.

She has a cute little button nose and a warm, nervous smile. “Hi. I’m Paige. It’s nice to meet you.”

She shakes my hand and rubs her hands over her bouncing legs when I let go. I shoot silent daggers at my brother because he clearly described me as some kind of bogeyman to her.

“What?” He shrugs. “I just told her you’re a bit of a cactus.”

Her face falls in shock as she whips her head in his direction. “No. No, he didn’t.” She shakes her head, slightly frantic, but Leo just chuckles from beside her. “He’s really only said nice things about you. I promise.”

“That feels like a lie.” I eye her suspiciously, and even though I meant it as a joke, I almost feel bad when I begin to sense her panic.

Leo's hand falls to her thigh and her shoulders drop.

“Even if it was, I think I’d still want to meet you.”

She’s so sweet that it’s ridiculous. The crazy part is that everything about her screams that she’s genuine.

“Bold. Most people need a signed waiver before meeting Sav.” Leo laughs, and without ever taking my eyes off Paige, I kick his shin under the table.

“Ow! I just meant that you’re a little prickly, but after some time, you know…” He waves a hand around. “People like your vibe.”

“Maybe that’s why I like her,” Paige responds to Leo but keeps her eyes on me. “She puts herself out there and doesn’t try to hide the thorns.”

I nod my head as a slow smile tugs on my lips, and I don’t know if Paige is just special or if this is what happens when you stop being entirely closed off to people, but I can’t help but like her.

She elbows Leo and he falls over dramatically.

If today's conversation doesn’t go the way I envision, maybe I’ll at least have Paige on my side.

I look over my shoulder toward the front door.

Normally, my dad being a minute or two late wouldn’t have me so on edge, but I’m currently a mixture of nerves and excitement, and it’s causing my head to be on a swivel.

“So I hear congratulations are in order, yeah? You think they have champagne here?” Leo asks, looking around.

I bite my top lip and quirk a brow. There's not a chance in hell he knows about Noah and me yet. It’s not like we’ve been avoiding each other in public or anything, but I thought I’ve been fairly cautious.

“And what are we celebrating?”

“Your new internship,” he says before biting down on his straw.

“My…?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Congratulations!” Paige smiles.

“H—How did you know about that?”

“Dad told me.” Leo shrugs, oblivious to my full-on confusion.

My fingernails dig into my palms, cutting tiny crescent moon shapes into my skin.

There’s a simmering rage traveling through my tense jaw and up to the backs of my eyes, beginning to burn.

I assumed the rescheduled interview was out of pity, and while getting the internship after the utter failure that was said interview didn’t make any sense, I just assumed they were desperate.

I never told my dad that I got the job.

It never occurred to me that he would go behind my back and talk to the head of the department for me.

It never occurred to me because he knew I wanted to do this on my own.

He knew I didn’t want him involved. Now what?

I have an internship waiting for me, one my dad used his connections to secure?

Everyone in that building is going to know I’m a joke—that I only landed the spot because of who my dad is.

He might not know it, but he’s made me out to be the person I despise the most. He’s turned me into the person that uses him to get ahead.

“Where are you going?” Leo calls out behind me, but I’m already halfway out the door.