Page 22
CHAPTER 22
Farren
T he engine of North’s truck rumbles as I pull into the underground garage of the arena. The automatic arm lifts when I approach, the decal on his windshield granting me access. Driving this beast has been a learning curve, but I have to admit, I’m getting the hang of it. This morning as I was driving North to the arena, I took a corner too tight and nearly clipped a parked car. I thought he might have a stroke, but I assured him I knew exactly where that car was the entire time. He was dubious but in the end, he gave me unfettered access to his truck today, which shows a level of trust in me I’m not quite sure I fully deserve. Regardless, after running errands all morning while he’s been at practice, I handle it like a pro—well, almost.
I ease into his reserved spot, cutting the engine. The parking garage is quiet, a few other players’ cars still scattered around. I see a text from North that says he’ll be out in a few minutes and decide to scroll through my phone to kill time .
Job hunting today was… something. I hit up a bunch of bars I’d researched, dropped off a few applications and even had one impromptu interview. The manager offered me a position on the spot, but I told him I needed to think about it. The truth is the thought of stepping back behind a bar is daunting. It’s not that I hate bartending, I’m just tired of it. The hours, the grind, the endless small talk—it’s all starting to feel like a rut.
Funny how I never felt that way before, but it seems since meeting North, nothing is the same.
About fifteen minutes later, North emerges from the arena, his hair damp from the shower, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His Titans-branded hoodie stretches across his broad shoulders, and he looks every bit the professional athlete, which still messes with my head sometimes. He’s just North to me—a mix of maddening and irresistible—but seeing him like this reminds me he’s also a big deal to thousands of people.
He opens the passenger door and tosses his bag in the back seat of the extended cab before he starts to climb into the passenger side.
“Nope,” I say, stopping him as I pop open the driver’s door. “You’re driving. I’m done wrestling this thing for the day.”
He smirks but doesn’t argue, stepping back as I hop out. We meet in front of the truck, and as we pass each other, he catches my arm and pulls me in for an unexpected kiss that curls my toes.
When he lifts his head, he asks, “How’d the job hunt go?”
The late-afternoon chill bites at my cheeks, and I pull my coat tighter around me. The underground garage is cold but not unbearable.
“Fine,” I say with a shrug.
North’s brow furrows. “That’s not exactly a glowing review. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I snap, brushing past him and heading to the passenger side.
The sound of a door opening nearby catches my attention, and I glance up to see Atlas and Foster emerging from the arena. Foster tosses a puck up and down in one hand while Atlas struggles to balance a cup of coffee and a bag of gear.
“North! You driving Miss Daisy home?” Foster teases with a smirk, nodding toward me.
“Something like that,” North replies, shooting him a mock glare. “Try not to spill coffee all over your car this time, Atlas.”
“Don’t hate me because I’m a multitasker,” Atlas retorts, lifting his cup hand in a partial wave before the two disappear into the rows of parked vehicles.
North opens the driver’s door. “You’re not getting off that easy. There is something, and we’re going to talk about it.”
I sigh, pulling open the passenger door and sliding into the seat, the plush leather cool against my legs. The faint smell of North’s cologne lingers in the cab, mingling with the subtle pine air freshener dangling from the mirror. He settles into his seat and turns to face me, his expression soft but insistent.
“What happened?” he presses, his hands dropping to my thigh where he squeezes it gently.
“I got a job offer.” I fidget with the seat belt. “I’m just not sure I want it.”
He studies me as if he’s trying to read between the lines. “Why not?”
I hesitate, the words knotting in my throat. It’s not that I don’t want to tell him—I just don’t know how to explain it in a way that doesn’t sound ungrateful or aimless.
“It’s just…” I start, but my voice trails off.
He doesn’t rush me. Instead, he shifts into a more relaxed position, his elbow resting on the center console, his fingers drumming lightly. The steady rhythm is almost soothing.
“I have an idea,” he says, calm but encouraging. “Let’s go for a walk by the river.”
I snort, rolling my eyes. “It’s freezing out there.”
“Stop being a baby. You’re a Canadian. I’m sure you’ll survive. ”
North jumps out of the truck and with a groan, I follow suit. I meet him at the rear of the truck, buttoning up my coat. “You’re seriously dragging me out into the cold to talk about this?”
“Yep,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me through the garage and back into the arena. The front lobby doors on the opposite side of the building sit adjacent to the river walk and is the straightest course to reach our objective. “Because whatever’s going on in that head of yours is worth freezing my ass off for.”
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. There’s something about North’s determination that’s both infuriating and endearing. Maybe a walk by the river isn’t the worst idea after all.
When we reach the concrete path that follows the Allegheny, I take in the beautiful skyline. I’m a big-city girl by nature but despite the towering buildings, Pittsburgh has always had a small town feel to it. I’ve decided that I actually like it.
The sky is a muted gray, the sun hidden behind a thick layer of clouds that promise snow later tonight. Despite the cold, the rhythmic sound of the river flowing beside us is oddly settling, mingling with the scrape of our boots on the concrete.
North’s hand wraps securely around mine, adding extra warmth through my gloves. He leads me to a bench nestled beneath a canopy of barren trees. I shiver slightly as North sits beside me, pulling me close and draping his arm around my shoulders. His body radiates heat, and I can feel the strength of him even through our coats.
“You okay?” he asks, giving my arm a gentle squeeze.
I nod, burrowing deeper into his side, grateful for the shelter he provides from the wind. “Yeah. It’s just freezing.”
He smirks, his lips curling against the collar of his coat. “Speak fast then and don’t hold anything back. The sooner you do that, the sooner we can get out of the cold.”
“Devious,” I say, enjoying the teasing even though he’s pressing me for a serious talk. There’s something grounding about being here with him, despite my initial reluctance. The world feels quieter, more manageable with him beside me.
“So,” he says after a moment, his voice cutting through the stillness, “why aren’t you excited about the job?”
I tuck my hands into my pockets. The question hangs between us, and I know he’s not going to let it drop. “I’m tired of bartending,” I admit, my voice barely audible over the wind. “The hours are hell, the work is draining, and it feels like I’m going nowhere. On top of that, if I want any chance of having sex with you on a regular basis, that’s not the job to have since I work nights. ”
North chuckles at my sex joke, which isn’t really a joke. His thumb brushes idly against my shoulder. He’s giving me space, waiting for me to continue.
“It’s like…” I fumble for the words, staring out at the river as it meanders past the city. “It’s the only thing I’m good at. While I don’t love it, it’s a way to survive. Something I could do to make money.”
He nods, his breath puffing out in soft clouds as he processes what I’ve said. “Then don’t do it.”
I snort, the sound bitter even to my ears. “It’s not that simple, North. I need to start paying Rafferty rent.”
“You could live with me rent-free,” he says with a sly grin.
“Not going there,” I say sternly, but my eyes crinkle with amusement. “Bartending is the only skill I have. What else am I supposed to do?”
He turns slightly, his arm tightening around me as he faces me fully. His expression is serious, his eyes steady on mine. “I hate to point out the obvious, but you’re a genius, Farren. You could do anything.”
The sincerity in his voice tightens my throat, and I force a laugh to cover it. “Near genius,” I correct him. “Without a college degree. Doesn’t amount to anything.”
“So go back to college,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world.
I scoff, shaking my head. “You sound like my parents. And Raff. Always telling me what I should do, trying to control me.”
“I’m not trying to control you,” he says calmly, his gaze unwavering. “I’m just pointing out that you have options. Hell, you could go join the circus for all I care, as long as it makes you happy.”
His words hit differently from all the lectures I’ve gotten before. There’s no judgment, no pressure, just a genuine desire for me to find something that makes me feel alive. I chew on my bottom lip, the tension loosening ever so slightly.
“You’re really okay with me joining the circus?” I ask, my voice laced with sarcasm, though I can’t quite hide my smile.
He grins, nudging me with his shoulder. “Only if you’re the ringmaster. You’ve got the bossy attitude for it. Plus, you’d give me free popcorn and cotton candy. That’s a win-win in my book.”
I laugh despite myself, the sound carried away by the wind. “You’re such an ass.”
“But I’m right,” he says, his voice softening. “There has to be something you’ve always wanted to do. Something you’ve dreamed about but never thought you could have.”
His question settles over me like a heavy blanket, warm but suffocating. I stare out at the river, the water reflecting the gray sky above, and let his words sink in.
“I don’t know,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Come on,” he presses. “If you could wave a magic wand and be anything, do anything, what would it be?”
I hesitate, the answer lodged in my throat. It feels too big, too personal to say out loud. But the way he looks at me—patient, curious and without a trace of judgment—makes it impossible to hold back.
I stare out at the water. “Forensic psychologist,” I say softly. “Criminal profiling.”
North’s head jerks back, clearly surprised. “Really?”
I nod, feeling a flicker of excitement just saying the words out loud. “Yeah. I used to devour true crime books and documentaries. I was obsessed with understanding why people do the things they do, how their minds work, what makes them tick and eventually snap. Like, Ted Bundy. Everyone thought he was just some charming guy who tricked women into helping him, but he wasn’t only charming—he was manipulative on a level most people can’t even comprehend. And the way the FBI used profiling to figure out his patterns. Like, knowing he’d return to the same places, or that he had this need for control over his victims—that stuff blows my mind. Or the whole BTK case, where the guy seemed like this normal family man for decades, but underneath it all, he was—”
I catch myself mid-ramble, my hands gesturing wildly, and freeze. “Oh my God,” I gasp, my cheeks heating as I look away. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
North doesn’t look annoyed or bored, though. If anything, he looks fascinated, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Keep going,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder. “I’ve never seen you like this. You’re—what’s the word?—lit up.”
I roll my eyes, but there’s no stopping my smile. “Okay, fine. But seriously, profiling isn’t just about catching killers. It’s about understanding behavior, predicting what someone might do based on their patterns, their history. It’s like solving a giant puzzle, but the stakes are so high because it’s not just a game, it’s people’s lives. I don’t know, I just love the idea of digging into someone’s psyche, finding the pieces that everyone else missed, and using that to make the world safer.”
I trail off, suddenly aware of how much I’ve been talking, and press my lips together. “Wow. I really went off the deep end there, huh?”
North’s grin only widens, his eyes soft as they lock onto mine. “Not at all. That was amazing. I’ve never seen you more passionate about anything—except…” His eyes crinkle and he waggles his brows. “Except when you’re in bed with me.”
I bark out a laugh. “I can be passionate about more than just you, you know.”
His hands go up in mock surrender, but the warmth in his gaze lingers. “I’m just saying, you clearly love this. You should chase it.”
For the first time, the idea doesn’t feel completely out of reach. And that realization both terrifies and exhilarates me.
He leans forward, his interest genuine. “My only question is… why aren’t you pursuing it?”
I shrug, staring at the frigid ripples of the river. “I don’t know. I guess I got too lazy. The reasons I had for not going to college… I’m not sure they exist anymore.”
“What were those reasons?” he asks.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say quickly, brushing it off.
He doesn’t push, but his eyes stay on me, filled with curiosity and something else—something that feels a lot like pride.
“Farren,” he says after a moment, softer now, as if he knows the weight of his words. “Just think about it. You’re young and all your dreams are within reach.”
His words settle within me. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before, not in a way that felt this authentic. His eyes are steady, no teasing, but no hard-core pushing. No control. Just him seeing me for exactly who I am and guiding me to be more—not for him, not for anyone else, but for me.
The thought makes my stomach flutter, part excitement, part fear. He’s not demanding anything, not trying to force me into something I don’t want. He’s just holding a mirror up to the pieces of myself I’ve tried to ignore for years. And somehow, that feels more terrifying than any lecture or expectation ever has.
“I’ve never told anyone this,” I admit, the words coming out before I can stop them. “Not Rafferty. Not my parents. No one.” I pause, swallowing hard. “This is the first time I’ve said those dreams out loud.”
North’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t gape or fumble for words. He just nods, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for me to open up to him. “Why now?” he asks.
I shrug, my voice small. “I don’t know. Maybe because you asked. And you didn’t make me feel like it was stupid or impossible. Not that my family would, but I’ve disappointed them for a long time. It seems a little late to have ambition.”
His lips curve into a smile, one that sends warmth spreading through me. “It’s not stupid, and it’s definitely not impossible. I know you, Farren. If this is what you want, you’ll find a way.”
His confidence in me is almost unbearable. I’ve spent so long convincing myself that I couldn’t have things like this—dreams, plans, a future that didn’t feel aimless. And now here he is, casually believing in me like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“Okay,” I say finally, the word trembling on the edge of something bigger. It’s not just a promise to him, it’s a promise to myself. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” he says, his grin morphing into something that feels more like relief than victory.
I nudge him, needing to break the intensity of the moment before I drown in it. “Can we get out of the cold now?”
North’s eyes roam my face and he brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. The intimate gesture makes me shiver and that has nothing to do with the temperature. “I suppose you’ve been a good girl. Let’s go grocery shopping. I’ll cook for you tonight.”
“Deal,” I reply, pushing up from the bench and holding my hand out to him. It’s the first time I’ve initiated any form of PDA. “Although… calling me a good girl has me thinking of other things you could do for me.”
North laughs and tugs me down the path back toward the arena. “You’re incorrigible and that’s not something I would ever change about you.”
Something has shifted inside me. For the first time in years, I don’t feel like I’m running on empty. I feel steady, like maybe, just maybe, I’m finally ready to stop being afraid.
As we head back to the truck, he mentions the next two home games. They’ve got back-to-backs starting tomorrow with the LA Demons, followed by the Carolina Cold Fury .
Listening to him, I can’t help but feel a little of that excitement too. For the first time in a long time, I wonder if maybe I could feel that way about something again. Maybe it’s time to start figuring out what that something might be.