Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 239

The days leading up to the final match felt like I was running on nothing but sheer exhaustion and a surge of adrenaline. Every muscle in my body throbbed with pain, and each practice session seemed to stretch endlessly, testing my limits more than ever before. Yet, I refused to slow down. This was the moment we had all been working toward—the culmination of everything we had sacrificed. Just one more game stood between us and victory, one last chance to claim the glory we deserved.

What fueled me wasn’t the allure of trophies or the flash of cameras; it was the vivid memory of our last night together. That memory was etched beneath my skin, a constant presence that kept me going. I thought of Ne Cagen—the way he had touched me, the way his gaze had held mine afterward, steady and certain, as if he had finally made peace with himself. That quiet confidence gave me strength through every sprint, every tackle, and every sleepless night.

And since then, he hadn’t truly pulled away—not completely. His eyes still sought mine across the field, a subtle touch of fingers when no one else was watching, a whispered word exchanged in passing that went unnoticed by everyone but us. Those moments weren’t accidents anymore. They were deliberate, and that was enough to keep me breathing, to keep me moving forward.

So I kept my focus razor-sharp. I trained harder than ever, smiled for the cameras when I had to, and spent the rest of the time concentrating on pushing through—on winning this damn championship—and on figuring out how to finally break free from that contract with William once and for all.

Everything was barely holding together until the call came.

It was late, long after practice had ended, when my phone started vibrating inside my locker. I almost ignored it, but the name flashing on the screen twisted my stomach into knots.

Mom.

She rarely ever called anymore. Not since his sister’s “accident,” not since my life had turned into a public spectacle for the sake of the Harts’ reputation.

I hesitated for a moment before answering. “Hey, Mom?”

Her voice trembled on the other end, fragile and uneven. “Noah… we need to talk.”

I could hear her uneven breathing, the kind that betrayed her attempt to hold back tears.

“Noah, your father knows.”

My heart sank. “Knows what?”

“About the engagement. About everything.” She paused, swallowing the words. “We tried to keep it from him, but he’s been following your games, bragging to anyone who’ll listen. Saying his son is a star now, and that he’s going to get you out of this hole…” Her voice cracked on the last part.

I rubbed my face, trying to steady myself. “Mom—”

“He says you owe him, Noah. Like it’s payback time.”

“What do you mean?”

“He took whatever money we had left, even sold some things. Said he was heading to Texas. Said he’d find you.”

For a moment, I couldn’t catch my breath. “He’s coming here?”

“Yes.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, the kind she used when she didn’t want me to hear her crying. “If he shows up, don’t argue with him. Don’t try to reason. Just tell him there’s no money yet, that these things take time. Tell him you have nothing to give. Please, Noah… stay calm. Stay safe.”

“Mom…” My throat felt dry and tight. “Are you and Emily okay?”

“I tried to stop him, but he got… aggressive. He wouldn’t listen. He never listens. We’re okay, though. I’m so sorry.”

A heavy silence stretched between us, filled with all the things neither of us could say aloud.

“It’s not your fault, Mom. I love you. I’m going to get you out of there, I swear—but not with him,” I promised.

“I love you too, baby. Please be careful,” she whispered. “Promise me.”

“I will.”

When the call ended, I stayed seated, my phone still pressed to my ear, the weight of her words sinking deep into my chest.

He’s coming.

The background noise of the locker room slowly returned—the rush of water from the showers, cleats clattering against the tiled floor, laughter echoing faintly from the other side. It all felt distant, like I was somewhere else entirely.

“Hey, man.”

I looked up to see Keon standing a few feet away, a towel draped casually around his neck, his brows knit with concern. “You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

I nodded, grateful for the normalcy of his words.

For a few minutes after he left, I let the familiar sounds of the locker room wash over me—the guys chatting, laughing, making plans for the weekend. Life was still moving forward. For now, I could pretend everything was okay.

Saturday. A party. Maybe a chance to breathe before the next storm hit.

The following days dragged by, thick with nerves and tension.

Every knock at the door, every phone ring, every shadow moving outside the window made me jump. I kept expecting to see him standing there—my father—like a ghost from the past I’d been trying so hard to escape.

During practice, I couldn’t stop scanning the stands, searching for faces that didn’t belong. Sometimes I swore I felt someone’s gaze on me, a figure in the crowd that vanished whenever I looked twice. My body went through the motions of drills, but my mind was elsewhere, waiting for the blow that hadn’t come yet.

He was out there—I could feel it. And the longer he stayed hidden, the worse my fear grew. Whatever he was doing before finding me was calculated, deliberate. Like a hunter circling his prey, watching, learning the distance before striking. Now, I was the target, and he was counting his steps.

I tried to push the thoughts away. I laughed when the others laughed, answered questions when they came, but inside, my head was spinning with endless what-ifs. Even Aiden noticed. More than once, he caught me zoning out during drills, my eyes searching the bleachers instead of following the ball.

“Everything okay with you, Blake?” he asked quietly once.

I nodded, lying through my teeth. “Yeah… just some stuff at home.”

But I wasn’t okay.

God, how I wanted to tell him everything.

I wanted to pull him aside, away from the team, and whisper it all: My dad is coming. I’m scared. I don’t know what he’ll do. I wanted him to wrap me in his arms, to hear his steady voice grounding me, that quiet reassurance that always made the world seem right again.

But there was never a moment alone—always people around, noise, eyes watching.

Still, I kept telling myself I’d find a chance to talk to him face-to-face. I didn’t want to share this over the phone—not like this. I had to. Because the fear inside me was growing louder than the crowd, and the only thing that could quiet it was him.