From the Beginning_A Prescott Family Story

by Mignon Mykel

  But no. I hadn’t been thinking.

  And he just… Noah just knew when something was off with me. It kind of pissed me off at how well he read me sometimes. He could read right through my fake smiles and knew whenever I was keeping something close to my chest.

  Well, I wasn’t going to let him this time.

  This was something I needed to figure out on my own, and quite frankly, I wasn’t sure really where I stood in his life so why should I add my burdens to his shoulders?

  The sane part of my brain knew that wasn’t fair.

  What Noah and I had was real.

  But I was just Ryleigh with dreams of a handful of kids in a gorgeous house on the north side of town, and he was this hockey player with dreams of NHL games that would take him farther away from me.

  My breath hitched.

  I should let him go.

  I paced Ryleigh’s kitchen, arms crossed over my chest. I wouldn’t lose my temper, I wouldn’t lose my temper, I repeated over and over in my head. Not with Ryleigh. But dammit, something was up.

  I’d been on the road for the last four days, two out-of-state games, and I had shown up at Ryleigh’s expecting her to be there. I wanted to see her. I wanted to talk to her about the games.

  But when I got here and her door was locked, I found the hide-a-key and let myself in.

  I knew better than it, but part of me feared she was at some other guy’s house. I knew Ryleigh and knew without a doubt she was one hundred percent in with what we had.

  But I couldn’t help the feeling, especially with her hanging up the phone on me.

  I stopped pacing when I heard the garage door open at the bottom of the stairs. She walked up them and damn, but she was going to ignore me, I realized.

  This Ryleigh was so different from the one I brought with me to my parents’ the previous weekend.

  When she walked into the kitchen, continuing to ignore me, I leaned back into the fridge.

  And I watched.

  While she ignored.

  She moved with a purpose, from one end of the kitchen to the other, putting things away.

  If there was one thing I learned the hard way over the past few months, it was that Ryleigh’s version of putting things away was a cereal box in the corner of the counter, or a can of corn she was planning on cooking the next night sitting on the cutting board. I finally had Ryleigh’s system down pat. Bills didn’t get put in the mail bin she had under the cupboard unless they’d already been paid. If they were out in the open, she would see them and pay them.

  Same with her purse. If she needed to carry it, she put it near the front door so she’d remember to grab it.

  Right now, though, she was actually putting things in the cupboards. When she moved to grab my key, I moved away from the fridge. “Ryleigh.”

  She continued to ignore me. I tried to block her from leaving the kitchen, but she slide herself between my body and the counter. Not about to let the opportunity pass, I reached and wrapped my hand around her tummy, stopping her before pulling her back into me.

  Ryleigh flexed her jaw and tried to keep her body from touching mine.

  “What’s going on, Ryles?”

  She avoided my eyes. “Nothing.”

  I moved her so she was against the counter, my arms caging her in. She wasn’t a tiny girl, but something about the expression on her face made her seem very small right now. Her expression caught me off guard.

  Right now, she didn’t look anything like the Ryleigh I knew.

  “I can pretend it’s truly nothing,” I told her, being careful with my words, “but you and I both know something is wrong.”

  She crossed her arms and sniffled. Her eyes still didn’t meet mine.

  “Dammit, Ryleigh.”

  Something snapped then. She turned her head to glare up at me.

  Hell, at least I got her to look at me finally.

  “Don’t you swear at me, Noah Prescott. You come home… Fuck, you come to my home, where you’ve taken up residence; you don’t get to raise your voice at me. Don’t you start swearing at me because you had a bad day, because guess what, Mr. Hot-Shot Prescott? I can swear just as loud and just as long as you, except it sounds prettier,” she spit out.

  I could not say this was a side of Ryleigh I had ever seen, nor figured she had. I hadn’t sworn at her; I swore out of frustration. But something about her rant had my temper rising, as misplaced as it was.

  “For your information, I had a perfectly fine day until you got here.”

  Her eyes left mine again. With her eyes over my shoulder and her body so closed off… I couldn’t handle it. “Fuck this.” I pushed away from her. “You won’t enlighten me into what the hell’s got you so fucking pissy? Fine. I’m not a fucking mind reader, Ryleigh. Nice to see where I stand.”

  I walked away.

  It was the best thing I could do right now.

  Why was it so damn hard for her to tell me what was wrong?

  I walked to her bedroom to grab my things, the entire time berating myself for even starting this with her. Had I not read the note, had I not confronted her the morning after the party, I wouldn’t have fallen for her.

  I had been just fine living my life the way it was.

  If this was the game she wanted to play, then by all means.

  Let her fucking play.

  I was out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My earlier panic attack hard morphed into anger.

  My panic attack now was morphing into hyperventilation.

  I stood in the kitchen speechless. I hadn’t moved from where Noah placed me against the counter. If I thought I was numb before, I couldn’t tell you what I was feeling now.

  I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as my eyes began to burn. Everything was crashing down around me, and it was my fault. It was all my fault. What the doctor said, Noah’s reaction.

  Slowly, I moved from the counter toward my room. Noah was sifting through things, pulling out whatever was his and dropping it into a pile on the floor.

  I watched, my arms still crossed but sad and unsure now, as he pulled a jersey from the closet and was about to stop him before he put it back in the closet. It was mine, after all.

  Finally, I broke the silence. “What are you doing?” I asked softly. I hardly even heard my voice.

  Noah glanced over his shoulder. “You’re smart, Ryleigh.” He turned his attention back to the closet. Not finding anything else, he moved to the en suite where I knew his electric shaver was.

  It was becoming increasingly harder to hold the tears at bay. I was such a horrible person.

  I had wanted this relationship with him so badly, and now I was just going to let him walk away.

  All because I couldn’t open up to him.

  Shaver in hand, he exited the bathroom and moved to his pile of clothes, picking them up in one sweep.

  “Please don’t do this,” I whispered. The unshed tears were getting heavy; I knew if I blinked, they would just fall.

  And probably keep falling.

  Noah walked toward me. Glowering down at me, he raised his brows. “I’m not the one doing anything.”

  Before he could move past me, or physically move me for that matter, I blurted out, “I went to the doctor.”

  There was no change in his demeanor. He moved me aside easily and walked out of the room.

  I couldn’t let him leave. Not like this.

  I scrambled after him. “I found a lump. You know my mom died of breast cancer so I freaked out and went to the doctor. She did her tests but…” I was hyperventilating again.

  Noah reached the bottom of the stairs and I collapsed to sit at the top.

  He was leaving.

  He wasn’t listening.

  I did this.

  “Dammit, Noah, I’m scared,” I whispered. Sure the words fell on deaf ears, I dropped my face into my hands and allowed the tears to fall.

  The smallness of her voice is what pulled me out of my
anger.

  I looked over my shoulder to see her sitting with her head in her hands. I couldn’t leave like this.

  I took the stairs back up, two at a time, and dropped my pile on the landing beside her before kneeling on the stair in front of her. I pulled her hands from her face gently and she looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, the clear blues so much lighter than I’d ever seen them before.

  “That’s all you needed to say, Ryles. Why say nothing’s wrong, when you know damn well I can tell that’s not the case?” I asked her quietly.

  “I don’t want you to have…” She took a deep breath and I thumbed at the remaining tears on her cheeks, allowing her to go at her pace. “I’m afraid this is a deal breaker for what we have going on.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked. I moved to sit on the step just below her, but with my back to the wall so I could still look at her.

  She shrugged almost stubbornly, looking down at her hands as she played with her fingernails. “It’s just… it’s a personal problem. I want nothing more than to lean on your shoulder but you and I…”

  I let her take her time, needing to hear what she wanted to say. “It’s like we just met two seconds ago and I’m asking for fifty years. What if the lump is serious? What if I end up like my mom? You didn’t sign on for that.”

  “No, but I signed on for you,” I told her. Again, I reached for her hands. “If you want a shoulder, tell me. That swearing at me thing you were doing?” I pointed a finger in the direction of her kitchen. “That’s not going to get you a shoulder.”

  Her chuckle was watery and she took one hand from mine so she could wipe under her eyes. “I don’t enjoy swearing. It’s ugly and vulgar.”

  “In bed, it’s hot,” I said, trying to get a smile from her.

  “That’s your fault,” she said around the smile I wanted.

  “Oh, don’t go blaming your potty mouth on me.”

  “You’re just so passionate about everything. It’s the only way I can keep up…” It sounded like she was grasping for straws on how to blame her four-letter words on me. I’d let it slide.

  “Sure, Ryleigh.” I grinned at her, finally feeling on even ground with her. “Let’s just chalk this up to our first fight, and go up to the couch and talk it out.”

  Ryleigh, the stubborn wench she could be, held up a finger. “I would consider you calling me a puck bunny a fight.”

  I shook my head. “That wasn’t a fight. That was a conversation.”

  “I thought you had a girlfriend!” Her eyes were still red, but the blotchiness of her cheeks was starting to return to normal. “That’s what Jason told me. I honestly only went to the part to snoop on you and let you go, once and for all.” There was a slightly dramatic tone to her voice that had me smiling.

  “Right.” I smirked at her. “That’s what you want me to believe.” I stood and pulled her up, wiping my palms over her cheeks. I still had a good inch or two on her, regardless of being a step below her. Hands on her hips, I leaned into peck her lips.

  “Let’s go talk about what’s going to happen with the doctor, ok? We just gotta take things a day at a time, Ryles.”

  She nodded then I grinned. “And you can explain why you have my jersey.”

  Her smile this time was shy. “Ok.” She turned and stepped up the last step, moving to the couch. I followed her, sitting down next to her but not letting her put space between us. I pulled her close to me, happy when she leaned into me.

  “So,” I started. “You went to the doctor…”

  With her head on my shoulder, she recited everything that had happened at her appointment and spoke the doctor’s words verbatim, if I had to guess. “I should get the results in the next day or two.”

  “I can sit out tomorrow’s game.”

  Ryleigh frowned but didn’t move from me. “No. You have not missed a game in years and years. You will not miss one on my behalf. Thank you, but no thank you.”

  “I think I get to be the judge of that.” I ran my hand through her hair.

  “And I think I may just have to kick you out if you don’t play tomorrow.” She lifted her head from my shoulder to look me straight on. After a brief stare off, she put her head back. I had the feeling she thought she won an argument.

  I’d let her think it.

  “She was pretty sure she could get me the results tomorrow, anyway.”

  “You can call me at practice.”

  She smiled gently. “You are impossible, Noah Prescott.”

  “On to the next order of business.” I smirked and tugged on her hair. “My jersey.”

  “So?” She looked up at me, her head still to my chest. “I have a jersey.”

  “A game-worn jersey. That probably fits you like a dress.”

  “Actually, yeah, it does. An ill-fitting dress, though.”

  “Explain?” I continued to play with her hair. I loved when she sat with me like this.

  I loved her.

  I always thought that the emotion would scare me on some level, but it didn’t. This had been a long time coming, I realized. She and I fell into a comfortable rhythm early on but watching her fall apart today…

  I didn’t want to let her go. I wanted to be her shoulder. I wanted her to come to me.

  She was stubborn as fuck, and I was sure we’d have fights similar to today’s again, with her keeping me out, but I loved her anyway.

  “What’s to explain?” she said, pulling me from my thoughts. “I bid, I won, I own.”

  “Oh,” I said, prepared to tease her mercilessly. “Jersey… Note… Party… Under any other circumstances, I might have to think you—“

  “Don’t say it!” She slapped her hand over my mouth. “Don’t go there.”

  My grin widened and I licked her palm, causing her to snap it back. “What did you think I was going to say?”

  “I am not, nor will I ever be,” she said, not truly answering my question. But I knew.

  “What if I was going to say I thought you should wear it for me?”

  “Right,” she smirked. “Because that’s what you were going to say.”

  “You never know when you interrupt.”

  “But that’s not what you were going to say,” she said, sure of herself.

  Our conversation shifted a few times and soon we decided to move to the bedroom. Afraid she’d fall asleep while we watched a movie, Ryleigh had changed into sleep shorts and a tank before climbing in next to me. I stripped down to just my boxer-briefs and couldn’t wait to hold her against me.

  She climbed in next to me and put her head to my chest just as I pressed play on the movie. Not long after, though, I looked down to see her sleeping.

  Careful not to wake her, I slid out of bed to make sure all the lights were off in her apartment. I grabbed my clothes from the pile at the top of the stairs to bring them back into her room, where I quietly placed the pile by the closet. I’d deal with it later.

  I climbed back into her bed, happy when Ryleigh turned toward me in her sleep. I closed my eyes, sure I would get better sleep tonight than I had the last few nights.

  I always did with Ryleigh in my arms.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Ryleigh,” I heard. “Babe, wake up,” Noah called from somewhere outside my dream. With a small sigh, I opened my eyes slowly. Noah stood over me, fully dressed in jeans, a hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up, and a baseball cap cover what I assumed was likely unruly hair. His duffle was draped over his shoulder.

  Clearly, he was heading to morning skate.

  “Hmm?” I mumbled, my eyes closing slowly again.

  I could hear him laughing at me. “Ryles. Where’d you put my keys?”

  “They’re not on the table…?” I asked in my sleep-state fog. That’s where he always put them.

  “No, you moved them yesterday,” he reminded me.

  “Oh yeah,” I said around a yawn. “Just…” I sighed, my body trying to pull me into sleep. “Just take my car.”


  He laughed at me again. “I don’t fit in your car. Ryleigh, c’mon, babe. You’ve got to wake up.”

  Slowly and with a groan, I pushed myself to sit up and ran my hands over my face then through my hair. I caught Noah looking me over with a grin on his lips.

  I yawned then swung my legs out of bed slowly. I stood and walked to the kitchen.

  Sure enough, they weren’t on the table where he normally put them.

  Oh, where’d I put them…?

  I mumbled, asking him why he had to be so damn tall. He could just take my car, I could sleep, and they could be found later.

  I pulled open the closet door, thinking maybe I put them in their with my purse, but that was a no-go. I moved to the kitchen and opened up the cupboard door I sometimes put my keys in.

  Bingo.

  Noah reached over me to grab the key ring. “I forgot this was here.”

  “Mmhm.”

  He put his hand to my lower back and tapped lightly before leaning down to peck my lips. “Go back to bed, Ryles,” he said around a chuckle. “Call me if you hear anything.”

  “Hey, Coach?” I asked, sliding to stop in front of the man of the hour. My gloved hand held my other glove and stick so I could hold my phone. “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Depends on the favor,” Coach asked, looking up from his dry-erase clipboard.

  “I might get a call during practice.” When Coach raised his brow, I rushed to say, “It’s important.” I gave him a super brief overview of the situation, not wanting to share more than needed. Just that I needed to take the call if it came in.

  “Only if you make it quick,” Coach said as he took my cell, pocketing it.

  “Thanks.” With a quick push off, I skated toward my teammates, sliding my hand into my empty glove.

  Coach whistled, signaling for us to skate one quick lap before settling in front of him.

  “We still have ten regulation games,” Coach informed us. “That’s enough time to lose our spot in the playoffs. We need to work, we need to fight, and we need to do it hard.”

  When we broke, the team split in two groups and began drills.