Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 257

Crossing Boundaries

Chapter 257

Noah

Today was meant to be monumental—the kind of day you dream about endlessly. The stadium lights blazing, cameras rolling, the roar of the crowd chanting your name, a surge of energy that makes you feel invincible. The Wolves were heading to Houston for the championship game, and the entire town seemed to have paused just to watch us depart. Voices bounced off the dorm walls, fans were already gathered outside, decked out in jerseys and face paint—seriously, face paint—and the entire building hummed with a mix of nervous excitement, pride, adrenaline, and unwavering belief.

Everyone was caught up in the moment.

Everyone but me.

I felt detached, as though I was trapped inside a stranger’s body, my limbs weighed down by invisible sandbags. I moved because I had no choice. I washed my face simply because it was expected. I packed my duffel bag mechanically, my hands moving on autopilot. There was no thrill, no nervous energy, no spark—just an empty void where my heart should have been.

We were set to leave soon—maybe in an hour, maybe less. I could hear my teammates’ voices echoing through the hallway—laughing, shouting, hyping each other up. The usual pre-game playlist was already blasting through the vents, pumping everyone up. People were knocking on doors, coordinating carpools to the send-off rally. Our buses were probably already parked outside, engines humming softly.

And there I sat, quietly tying my shoes, as if I needed to remind my fingers how to move.

Houston was waiting. William would be there. Lexie would be on the cheerleader bus. Reporters, cameras, scouts, alumni—all eyes would be on us. My mother and sister, supposedly “taken care of,” would be watching somewhere in the crowd. And if fate was cruel enough, my father might be there too—either lost in the crowd, slouched on his couch, or gripping a bottle in his hand.

And then there was Aiden.

I was going to see Aiden.

I had no idea how I was supposed to walk onto that field and act like everything was okay. How could I stand near him without wanting to reach out and hold him? How was I supposed to play the biggest game of my life when it felt like a truck had crushed my heart and kept rolling?

But I had no choice. For the team. For the season. For his reputation. For the part of me that once held this dream so tightly.

The spark had faded. The dream had slipped away. The piece of me that believed in a future was gone. But I was still here, breathing, standing. And for today, that had to be enough.

I was pulling my sweatshirt over my head when a soft knock interrupted the silence.

I stared at him, frozen longer than I intended, before snapping out of it.

“I know who you are.” My voice was flat, stripped of emotion, like it had been scraped raw. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He swallowed hard. “I need to talk to you.”

Without thinking, I started to close the door.

His hand shot out, stopping it before it latched—not forceful, not aggressive, just steady.

“No. No, listen—” His voice cracked. “You can kick me out, yell at me, hit me if you want. I get it. I do. But please… just let me say what I came to say first.”

My pulse pounded in my jaw. Every fiber of my being screamed to slam the door shut anyway. To shut him out. To shut out the memories. To block the image of Aiden lying in that hospital bed—the image that still twisted my stomach and crushed my chest.