Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 234

Chapter 234

Aiden

The semi-finals had come and gone, and we had made it through.

Just two more weeks remained until the end of the January championship—two more weeks filled with mounting pressure, endless interviews, and the constant act of pretending that everything was perfectly normal. For most of the team, this was an exhilarating time, buzzing with anticipation and hope. But for me, it was nothing more than a relentless countdown.

I needed Noah to be sharp, focused, and free from any distractions. Whatever torment William had dragged him through recently could not spill over onto the field. Scouts were already circling like hawks, and I wanted them to see what I had always recognized in Noah—the kid who didn’t need any family name or connections to make a name for himself.

If he played the way I knew he could, every contract William had ever dangled in front of him would become meaningless. Once my plan was complete, and the damage control was handled—once Noah was fully cleared—he could send William straight to hell and still have every scout in the country begging him to sign with their team.

He just had to survive these last few games, and then he’d be free.

That was my responsibility now—to keep him steady, confident, and safe until the final whistle blew. After that… everything would change.

Because once Noah’s last game was behind him, my real plans would finally begin.

That was the reason I found myself sitting across from Micah at dinner.

*****

Micah arrived exactly on time, as he always did—dressed in his usual black shirt, wearing a cautious smile that barely masked the flicker of nerves beneath the surface. We hadn’t seen each other properly in several days, and the way his eyes searched mine across the table told me he still wasn’t sure what kind of news I was about to share.

“You look serious,” he said, forcing a laugh as the waiter poured water into our glasses. “Should I be worried? You’re not about to tell me we can’t see each other anymore, are you?”

I shook my head slowly. “No. Nothing like that.”

He relaxed a little, though his fingers kept tapping the edge of the table. “Then what is it?”

“I’ve been thinking,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady. “About what you asked.”

His eyes flickered with curiosity. “I’ve asked you a lot of things.” He smirked slightly.

“I think it’s time we start spending more time together again. I want to work with you personally—train you myself. Like we used to.”

For a moment, he just stared at me. Then his face broke into a wide, bright smile—the same youthful grin he had when I first met him. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “I thought you were done with me, Sir. You have no idea what that means.”

I smiled faintly. “Don’t thank me yet.”

“When do we start?” Micah asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Right after the championship. Until then, I need to focus.”

He tilted his head, studying me carefully. “What happened to your new football boy?”

My throat tightened at the mention of the name I couldn’t bring myself to say. “That can’t continue.”

Micah frowned. “It can’t? Why not? Oh… don’t tell me he’s leaving and that’s why you want me back—”

I folded my hands tightly together, grounding myself with the motion. “I’m the one leaving after the season. Moving to Houston, maybe. There are offers from a couple of private programs, a few universities. It’s time.”

He blinked, stunned, then slowly smiled again. “You’re moving to Houston? You’re serious?”

“No.”

Then, one by one, everyone started filing back toward the tunnel. Everyone except one.

Noah.

He lingered near my bench, helmet tucked under his arm, eyes shining with that reckless light I knew all too well.

“Go on,” I said softly. “You’ll be late.”

He stepped closer, close enough that no one else could hear. “Just needed to hear you,” he murmured.

Before I could stop myself—before I could remind myself of every reason not to—my hand caught his jersey, and I kissed him. Hard. Fast. The kind of kiss that burned through rules and reason.

When I pulled back, breathless, I smacked his butt with my palm. “Now get your tight ass back out there—and win this game for me.”

He froze for a moment, eyes wide with shock, then that wild, beautiful grin I’d missed so much spread across his face.

“I will!” he shouted, slipping his helmet on. “For us!”

The doors slammed open, and he ran back into the roar of the crowd.

I stayed behind, heart pounding, realizing I had just undone hours of self-control in a single heartbeat. But then the noise from the field shifted—the surge of energy, the crowd screaming his name.

Noah was on fire. Every play, every run, every impossible pass. He clawed the game back piece by piece, pushing himself to insane extremes until the clock hit zero and the stands erupted.

Victory.

My kid had done it again.

One more win, and we’d have it all—the championship, the glory, the ending we’d been fighting for… and the one we’d been fighting against.