Awake At Dawn (Wildflower Series Book 2)

NOAH’S LIVING ROOM boasted massive wraparound windows, and since he lived on the twentieth floor, there was a clear view of the sprawling greens of Boston Gardens from where I stood, looking out as the sun finished rising.

A mug of decaf coffee warmed my fingers as I leaned against the exposed brick beam that separated the floor-to-ceiling windows. Music softly played from the TV; I’d turned on reruns from the most recent Winter Olympics because watching other people skate was comforting, in a sense.

Noah’s end of the apartment had been quiet this morning. He was undoubtedly tired from his away game this past weekend, the same one he’d grumbled about going to.

It surprised me. I always assumed that games were what athletes lived for, but Noah had shown little enthusiasm for leaving on the weekends. The only away game that seemed to excite him was the one coming up in Minnesota, and that was only because his family was going.

After Natalie left with Chloe on Sunday, I headed to bed, attempting to sleep. But as usual, I didn’t manage to drift off until I heard Noah’s footsteps enter the apartment in the middle of the night, his deep voice greeting Winnie.

I couldn’t make sense of it—why sleep evaded me unless he was home. I’d lived alone in my last apartment and never had a problem sleeping. In fact, after years of sharing a room and a bathroom with a handful of siblings, I loved living by myself.

Sighing, I sipped my coffee and watched the cars nearly bump into each other on their morning commute twenty floors below.

God, I missed caffeine. Maybe that would help me shake the deep-seated exhaustion that followed me no matter how much sleep I got. I supposed I could bring that up at my doctor’s appointment today. I should bring it up. Along with the other million questions I wanted to ask.

When I wasn’t skating, babysitting, dog-sitting, or planning Juniper’s bachelorette party, I was doing pregnancy deep dives on the internet. It was hard to say whether all the research was making me feel better or worse in terms of preparedness. In rare moments, I found myself thinking that I’d actually be able to do this thing. But sometimes, it made me feel like I’d never know enough to raise a child alone.

With pregnancy worries swirling in my brain, I didn’t hear footsteps approach until a gruff voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts.

“Morning.”

Noah’s simple greeting made my worries temporarily vanish. He stood beside me, his own cup of coffee in his hand, looking adorably tired.

But also ridiculously hot. Of course. He wore a plain white T-shirt, but it was thin enough that I could see how his tattoos swirled up to his shoulder beneath the fabric.

I looked down at my pajamas, the ones I always wore. Maybe I should invest in something nicer to wear to bed, considering how often I bumped into Noah in the morning. And in the middle of the night.

“Morning,” I echoed, shooting him a soft smile. “I figured you’d still be sleeping since it’s your day off.”

Yesterday, he’d been gone all day, doing whatever things football players did the day after games. But I knew his Tuesdays were usually much more flexible, his duties optional.

Noah gave me a sideways glance. “I have plans in a bit.”

“Oh?”

I shouldn’t be surprised that he’d come home just to turn around again, but I couldn’t help the small pinch of disappointment.

Before I could ask him about his plans, Noah nodded at me, his eyes trained on my hands.

“You’re always holding a different mug, and yet I’ve never seen a single one in the cupboard. Where the hell do they come from? Is there some sort of Narnia portal in my pantry where you’re hiding your stuff?”

“No, but I wish there was,” I laughed. “Then I’d have somewhere to hide my sex toys.”

That woke Noah up. His eyes flared as they lifted from my Criminal Minds mug to my face. An easy smirk slid across his features. “So you’ve got more than one, huh?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged, trying to play it cool. Noah always exuded so much confidence, and I was determined—especially after the tension of the last week—to match his attitude. And his teasing. But I struggled to figure out what else to say, so I reverted to our original subject. “As for the mugs, I keep them in my room. In a tote under my bed.”

I could tell the turn of conversation gave Noah a bit of whiplash. His head jerked sideways in confusion. “Why?”

I took a sheepish drink of my coffee. “Because I have a lot. And you don’t need to see just how much I like Spencer Reid.”

“How many is a lot?”

“Like…a lot. I know it’s super cheesy, but I sort of collect them. Not like seriously collect them. More like, casually collect them.”

Noah chuckled. Then he considered me for a second before coming to a resolution. “You’re putting them in the cupboard. And I want to see them. If they don’t fit, I’ll buy a new shelf.”

Shit.

“That’s really not necessary.”

“Yes, it is,” Noah concluded before turning his attention toward the TV, curiosity in his eyes. “Did you ever have a skating partner like that?”

I followed his gaze, watching the ice dancing routine unfold. It was a sensual, dramatic performance. The two skaters had a lot of chemistry, the tension palpable even through the screen.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Noah narrow his gaze.

“Yeah,” I said, thinking back on my experience in college. Noah’s attention shot back to me, surprising me with its intensity. “I actually had the same partner for a couple years. His name was Liam.”

“Liam,” he repeated stonily. His eyes flicked back to the screen, taking in the rotational lift the pair was maneuvering that resulted in her sliding down his front to return to the ice. Noah crossed his arms over his chest, watching so carefully I almost laughed. “Did you ever—” He cut himself off, pressing his lips tightly together before trying again. “Did you keep in touch with him?” he asked without taking his eyes off the TV.

I shook my head. “No, Liam and I didn’t end on a good note.”

Noah snapped his gaze back to me. “Did he do something to you?”

“No,” I assured him. “Just differences of opinion on our senior year performance. We got through it, but I think we were both glad when it was over and we could move on to different things. I transitioned into the coaching world, and he started performing in ice shows.”

“Got it.” Noah nodded, his tense body relaxing. “I’d be interested to learn more about your skating career sometime, Em.” He said the words like he truly meant them before checking his watch and adding, “Fuck, I have to take Winnie out and then get ready to go.”

He walked off, and I sighed.

I had to get ready, too. But I’d bet his plans were a hell of a lot more fun than mine.

“Gemma, c’mon!”

Halfway through tying my shoes, I stilled at Noah’s voice.

“We’re gonna be late!” he added, and that sure as hell got my attention.

“We?” I questioned, stepping out of my room, hopping because one of my shoes wasn’t on yet.

“Yes, we,” he said, exasperation thick in his voice. He leaned against the front door, sporting his usual casual look on days when he didn’t have football commitments. Today, his ball cap was facing forward, ready to be tugged low.

Because apparently, Noah intended to come with me to my doctor’s appointment.

“This was what you had planned today?” I choked out.

“Yep.” He acted nonplussed by my sputtering.

I balked at him, struggling to believe that he was serious. But he was unfazed by my stare.

“God, I should have never shared my schedule with you,” I muttered.

“I don’t know.” Noah shrugged. “I think it’s been working out pretty well for us.”

“You really don’t have to come with me,” I said, deciding that I didn’t want to think too much about just how well our shared little life had been going. Instead, I focused on fixing my shoe. A trickle of sweat rolled down my back from rushing to get ready and the rising anxiety of the appointment.

“Nah, we’re done with that,” Noah replied casually, drawing my attention again.

“Done with what?”

“We did it your way last time, and I don’t think it went well for either of us,” he explained. “We’re done having this back-and-forth. You’re not going to this appointment alone, and since I’m the only one who knows, I’m going.”

I sighed, finding it hard to argue with that. Finding that I didn’t really want to argue. I liked the idea of Noah coming with me more than I should admit.

“You can’t possibly want to spend your day off going to my prenatal appointment,” I stressed, even though I honestly liked the idea of having Noah’s support today. I didn’t want to be even more indebted to him. He’d already helped me more than enough.

“I’m not doing anything else besides getting in some weight lifting later,” he said, straightening as he twirled his car keys around his finger. “If you didn’t want me to come, you shouldn’t have scheduled it on a Tuesday.”

I lifted a brow. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next appointment.”

Noah narrowed his eyes but then snapped out of it. “We have to go.”

Too tired and in a hurry to argue, I followed Noah to the garage and let him usher me into his car. We didn’t talk much on our way to SCMC. I was too panicky, and Noah was too intent on getting us to the clinic in time.

Amazingly, he did it. We arrived in the waiting room with a few minutes to spare, and to my huge relief, we were called back for my ultrasound within a minute of sitting down.

At this point, I didn’t even argue that Noah shouldn’t come with me. Mostly because the longer he sat in the waiting room, the more likely someone would recognize him. If he insisted on being here, he might as well wait where fewer eyes were around.

However, I immediately regretted my decision when we walked into the imaging room to see a long wand-like probe resting near the patient seat. And, of course, it didn’t escape Noah’s notice, either.

“Does that go where I think it goes?”

I could tell by his low voice that he’d only meant for me to hear him, but the sonographer answered.

“Probably,” she laughed. “That’s an endocavity probe, which we use for transvaginal ultrasounds. At almost twelve weeks, Gemma should be far enough along to have an abdominal ultrasound, however.”

Noah continued to eye the probe as we sat, me in the reclined patient bed and him in a chair beside it.

“Stop staring at it,” I hissed, flicking him in the arm to get his attention.

His round eyes jerked away from the medical instrument. “I just feel like it can’t be good for the baby to have something of that size shoved up there, ya know?” he muttered.

“Don’t worry. Something of this size is more than safe,” the sonographer answered for me, trying to keep the humor from her voice but lifting a brow at Noah all the same. And unless I was seeing things, there was definitely an innuendo in her expression.

Noah nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest, satisfied with her answer. “Good to know.”

Maybe having Noah come with me today had been a mistake after all. Because I couldn’t stop the rising flush that worked its way up my neck. I felt it spreading to my cheeks, heat spearing through me.

As if he could read my embarrassment, Noah fell quiet after that. The sonographer walked me through the ultrasound, directing me to bare my abdomen while explaining how the gel would feel cool on my skin.

I clenched my hands into fists at my side as she pressed the flat head of the abdomen probe to my stomach, but not because it was uncomfortable. In fact, I desperately needed the gel’s cooling effect at the moment, thanks to Noah.

No, my clenched fists were due to nerves. Not the nerves that were currently going haywire because of sexual innuendos but the nerves that were working overtime because I was about to see my baby.

I jumped when I felt fingertips graze my arm, just below my elbow. They paused momentarily as if waiting to see if I’d brush them away, and then they continued, gently caressing a path down to my clenched fist. A fingertip tapped my thumb, wanting entry. I eased my fingers apart, and the other hand invaded mine until we were entwined.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Squeeze my fingers instead of your own,” he said softly, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. I hadn’t realized he was so close, but I was grateful for it.

I was thankful that someone was here to help me pick up my pieces if I broke down into them.

I squeezed his fingers, and when the sonographer smiled at the screen she was watching, I smiled nervously, too. That was good, right? It had to be good.

When she twisted the monitor toward us, I held my breath. And when she started explaining what the hell I was even looking at and how that tiny blip on the screen was my little plum, tears pricked my eyes.

It was real. This was really happening, and I couldn’t put my feelings into words, couldn’t decipher through the waves of emotions to find anything accurate to describe them, but it didn’t matter. Noah had the only words I needed.

“You’re going to be an amazing mom, Em,” he whispered. “Just amazing.”

All I could do was squeeze his hand harder as the sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room.

This was real.

I wanted to protest when the sonographer swiveled the monitor away, but then she reassured me that I’d be sent home with prints today, and I nodded regretfully. I wasn’t done looking at my plum.

I’d have to wait, though. We were ushered back to the waiting room a few minutes later until a different nurse called me back for my follow-up with the doctor. Similar to the sonographer, if the nurse recognized Noah, she didn’t say anything as we settled into the two seats in the exam room.

Instead of commenting on my NFL roommate, the nurse took my vitals. She smiled sympathetically when my blood pressure came back high as a fucking kite and told me that she would retake it in a bit after I’d had a minute or two to relax.

I wanted to laugh. There was a fat chance that I’d feel relaxed anytime soon.

Despite my high blood pressure or the way my pulse hammered inside me, I answered her routine questions with surprising ease and realized that this reality felt more and more…normal.

Yes, I’d been experiencing morning sickness. Yes, I’d been experiencing exhaustion. Yes, I’d been taking my prenatal vitamins. Yes, I’d been continuing my exercise regimen. Yes, I was taking my iron supplements and folic acid. Yes, this. Yes, that.

My last visit here, I hadn’t felt prepared. Sure, I knew they would tell me I was pregnant—the millions of at-home tests had assured me of that. But there were things I hadn’t even thought about. Did I want to get tested for sexually transmitted diseases? Which diagnostic screenings did I want? What was the father’s health history?

I still didn’t know the answer to that last question, but I’d been working myself up to figure it out. As much as I hated it, I’d have to contact Silas soon. I wouldn’t let my discomfort outweigh the health of my baby.

It seemed to last forever, but finally, the nurse came to the end of her questionnaire and slipped out of the room, stating the doctor would be in shortly.

“Do you want me to pretend to be the father?” Noah asked as soon as the door clicked shut.

I turned to face him, my lips parting wordlessly. What?

When I just stared blankly at him, he went on in a softer voice. “I realized when we were doing the ultrasound that they probably assume I am. I just want to know what you’d like me to say if the doctor asks.”

Having Noah pretend to be the father sounded absolutely dangerous. I had little doubt he would do exceedingly well at playing that role. He would put on a brilliant performance, but it would only make it harder when we left and I returned to reality.

“I already told her last time that the dad wasn’t involved,” I said when I found my voice.

“Well, maybe I got my shit together and decided to be involved again,” he argued. “I bet that happens all the time.”

“Then she’s going to ask you about your health history,” I sighed because he seemed determined to play this little scenario out. And while it might be nice for a short while, it wouldn’t do me any favors in the long run. “You can’t lie about that. Not to mention, it will be weird when you’re not at my follow-ups.”

He lifted a brow. “And who says I won’t be?”

I could tell by the tilt of his lips that his challenge was partly in jest. As usual, he was trying to ease the tension in the room. And I let myself follow his lead.

“Well, maybe my next appointment won’t be on a Tuesday, and then what?”

Noah scowled—his expression more serious this time as though he realized I was right and that he might actually not be able to come.

“Fine,” he agreed. “I won’t lie to the doctor.”

A lie. It was a lie. It was fake. Noah wasn’t the father of my baby. Noah and I hadn’t had sex, let alone kissed. And I didn’t expect that we would.

Dr. Amos noted Noah’s presence the minute she walked in. She smiled at me first, but then her eyes darted to the man beside me with clear interest. Dr. Amos had a good poker face, I’d give her that, but she couldn’t hide the flash of recognition that passed through her eyes when they landed on Noah.

We had a football fan in the house.

Regardless, Dr. Amos didn’t waver from her professionalism as she greeted me and politely opened to include Noah.

“And who have you brought with you today?”

“This is my…friend. Noah.”

It seemed like the best descriptor for what we were and the safest on the off chance that his presence here today leaked anywhere.

With a continued pleasant mask, Dr. Amos held her hand for him to take. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Noah shook her hand, returning the greeting. Dr. Amos looked back to me after, and just by the way she leaned closer, I knew she was about to ask a slightly invasive question—as doctors sometimes had to do.

“Is our friend also dad?”

Yep, there it was.

“Just a friend,” I said, the words making something swirl in my gut. “Along for moral support.”

I wasn’t sure what Noah and I were, but saying he was just a friend didn’t seem like the most accurate description. It didn’t feel right leaving my lips.

Beside me, Noah shifted in his chair. The movement caught Dr. Amos’ attention, her eyes darting to Noah before switching back to me.

“Okay.” She nodded, switching her attention to the computer screen. “I only ask because if he were dad, it would be important to input some of his health history into your charts while he’s here.” Her eyes swiveled to Noah, brow arched. “You wouldn’t happen to know any of that information, would you?”

If I dared to glance at Noah right now, I’d shoot him an I told you so look. But as it was, Dr. Amos demanded all my attention, and I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the withering look she gave Noah, challenging him to reveal the truth.

The truth that wasn’t real, of course.

In her eyes, she probably thought Noah was trying to hide that he’d gotten some girl pregnant to save his image. Which only made my stomach turn, because he was risking that image by wanting to support me when he didn’t need to.

“No,” Noah said after clearing his voice. “I don’t know any of that, unfortunately.”

Dr. Amos’ gaze lingered on him while trying to assess the situation further.

“Unfortunately,” she finally said, more to herself than us. And then louder to me, “And are you comfortable with him being here for the duration of the appointment as we review your ultrasound results today?”

“I am,” I said without needing to question it further.

I was comfortable with Noah. As much as I would love to have Juniper or one of my sisters here with me, Noah had an assured sense of calm that I needed today.

He knew how to take slow, deep breaths while I was taking fast ones.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” Dr. Amos said with a smile while gesturing to her screen.

Somewhere during her explanation, my hand ended up in Noah’s. And even after she gave me the prints from the ultrasound and left us in the exam room with them, my hand stayed in his, squeezed tight.

Only a handful of months, and I’d be a mom. I couldn’t believe it, and yet…I could.

The nurse returned to the exam room a few minutes later to measure my blood pressure again, as promised.

Miraculously, it was normal.