Chapter 193

Aiden

It had been weeks since everything stopped.

Weeks since that night I still couldn’t think about without feeling like someone shoved a fist straight through my ribs. And honestly? These days had stretched out longer than anything I’d survived in my life. When you don’t have a job, when your entire routine disappears overnight, time turns into this slow, suffocating thing that follows you around the house like a fucking shadow.

Every morning looked the same.

Every night looked worse.

And until I knew where Noah’s next contract was going to land him, my hands were tied. I couldn’t apply for coaching jobs out of state, couldn’t look for a house, couldn’t move forward with any of the plans we’d made.

But I wasn’t going to sit on my ass doing nothing. Not when I still had one hope left—the Oregon deal. They had been so damn clear the night of the Bowl: We want him, and we want him without third parties.

So I reached out. Quietly. Discreetly. A private meeting, just the scout and I, no agents, no cameras, nothing that could trace back to Noah.

I walked in praying this was it. The one move that could secure Noah’s future and buy us time until we figured out the rest.

But the moment I shook the man’s hand, I knew something had changed.

He wouldn’t meet my eyes at first.

Then he sighed, sat back, and said the words that made my stomach drop.

“Aiden… we were contacted by Noah’s representative. Mr. Hart.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

He continued, almost apologetic.

“He informed us of their current legal contract—something we were not aware of. And once we confirmed the paperwork with our legal department…” He paused, choosing his words. “We can’t offer Noah anything directly. We’d be breaking a binding agreement. And, to be honest, we can’t afford to make an enemy out of William Hart.”

I felt something inside me collapse.

“So you’ll negotiate with him,” I said flatly.

“If we pursue him at all,” he admitted. “But yes… it has to go through Mr. Hart. We have no choice.”

No choice.

Neither did I. I was sure William had contacted every attending, willing scout.

I walked out knowing exactly what that meant. The Oregon plan—the one lifeline we counted on—was dead unless we could break that contract first.

And that’s when I realized the first battle wasn’t about teams or scouts or careers.

It was about William.

About cutting Noah free from the noose around his neck.

For days on end, I looked through possibilities, ideas, contacts… I gathered funds, resources, even spoke to a few agents to place my house on the market. I spoke to Hale a few times as well, about starting my job there as soon as possible, training other masters rather than subs.

But before any of that—before I even considered talking to Hale again—I’d had one of those phone calls with Noah that kept me breathing. He called during his lunch break whenever he could, using the old beat-up phone he’d bought off a teammate and kept hidden in his locker. Completely William-free. Completely ours.

I lived for that daily phone call.

“Hey,” he whispered the moment I answered, like his whole damn soul exhaled at the sound of my voice. “What are you doing?”

“Missing you,” I said, because lying was pointless. “What about you?”

“Eating the worst pb and jelly on a wheat bun, in the locker room,” he groaned.

I laughed for the first time that day. “Baby, that’s not food.”

“It’s not. I need those lunches you used to make me... What about you? Did you eat?”

“Protein bar,” I said. “I’m saving the groceries for later.”

He made a disapproving noise that warmed me all the way through. “You need real food.”

“I need you,” I said quietly.

Silence stretched—full, warm, aching.

“I love you,” he murmured. “Every second. Every damn breath.”

I had to close my eyes. “I love you too, baby. Always.”

There was a small rustling sound, like he was shifting in place. “So… um… what are you up to today? Any progress with… you know. Jobs?”

That was my cue. I swallowed once. “I was thinking of starting at Hale soon. Training other dominants instead of subs. It would help bring in some income. Maybe stabilize things until we know where you’ll land.”

I braced for his reaction—jealousy, fear, insecurity. Hell, I would’ve felt those things in his place.

But Noah surprised me—again.

“Babe,” he said, voice full of conviction, “that’s a great idea. And it’s safe. And it means we keep moving forward. As long as there’re no goddamned subs touching you!”

I barked out a laugh. “No subs touching me?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “I don’t want any pretty boy—or girl—crawling next to you ever again.”

“Oh, baby,” I murmured, smiling despite everything. “You are the only pretty boy who will ever crawl by my side.” I paused, teasing. “Or kneel. Or walk. Or suck my cock—”

“Aiden!” He gasped, half scandalized, half breathless. “Stop. No more mental images. I’m in fucking abstinence and you’re giving me a boner—”

“But it’s true,” I whispered with a laugh. “Only you.”

“Only me,” he echoed. “I’m the only one who gets to have you. Forever.”

We stayed on the phone until the last possible second before he had to return to class.

Hale agreed to my conditions for the time being. I just needed to put myself out there again and get us results. And day after day, I tried. I really tried to find a way for us.

All I had was determination and hope—but eventually, both began to thin out with each rejection. Every phone call, every email, every update from anyone connected to the draft or to Noah’s situation just seemed to bring another shitty piece of news.

And the worst part? Apart from those phone calls, we haven’t had any contact at all.

I hadn’t been able to see him.

Not once.

Not in person, not even in passing. I saw him in interviews, in media posts, in red-carpet crap and sponsor events. Always surrounded by the Harts. Always with Lexie glued to his side. Hand-holding. Smiling. Pretending. And God help me, every time she kissed him or laced her fingers with his, something violent rolled through my chest. I wanted to break something. Break someone.

But none of it was their fault.

And it sure as hell wasn’t his.

It wasn’t real—not for Noah. I knew that down to the bone. I could see it in his eyes even through a fucking phone screen. He was surviving. Performing. Doing exactly what we talked about. As for his family, they were nowhere to be seen. They never appeared in any pictures, which meant William was keeping them far from the media—far from anything that could reveal their location. Safe… but also not. It helped, and somehow it didn’t.

Because it meant he had full control over their safety, which brought me back to the biggest problem of all. The one nobody liked talking about, but I couldn’t ignore.

The lawyers.

Or, better said, the brick wall I had slammed into with every single high-end law firm I had contacted since this all began. One of them actually laughed—one of those low, humorless laughs people make when the wolf is already at the door.

So I made my decision and reached out to the best lawyers I knew in Houston—men who owed me favors, men whose reputations were built on fireproof confidence, men who didn’t scare easily. Favors or not, what I needed from them was going to cost me everything I had left, but I was ready. I was prepared to burn through every dollar in my account if it meant protecting Noah and his family.