Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 167

Chapter 167

He looked visibly relieved, and though that stung more than I expected, it made sense. He needed time alone with his mother—a quiet space to search for answers without me hovering nearby, adding pressure.

At the hospital entrance, I quickly reached out and grabbed his arm. “Listen,” I said, straightforward as always. “I want nothing more than to kiss you, hold you tight, drag you back to the hotel, and never let go. But I know this isn’t the right moment or place for that. So I’ll wait. If you need anything—dinner, a walk, or even just someone to yell into the phone with—I’m here. Whatever you need, just call me.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. So I released him gently and watched him slip back into the building.

I climbed into a taxi, eyes fixed on him until he vanished inside, and silently promised myself I would be patient. For him, I could be patient.

***

The moment I returned to the hotel, work awaited me.

My first call was to Curtis—a good friend, football fanatic, and the kind of guy who owed me a favor or two. He answered on the second ring, already chuckling about last week’s game before I cut him off.

“Curt, I need you for something serious.”

That shut him up immediately. I laid everything out—one of my players was in deep trouble, a messy family situation, and a father who might be dangerous. “His name’s James Blake. I need you to dig up anything—records, criminal history, financial info, whatever’s publicly available. Doesn’t matter if it’s dull. I just need to know what I’m dealing with.”

There was a pause, then a cautious reply: “Aiden, that’s outside my usual turf. I can’t get directly involved. But yeah, there are public records I can pull without raising eyebrows. I’ll run his name and see what I find.”

After hanging up, the silence in the room felt heavier, my thoughts louder than ever.

It always comes down to money and power, I thought bitterly. Two things I knew Noah would have someday. I had some savings and a little influence left from my name, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

I couldn’t fight James Blake tonight. I couldn’t rewrite Noah’s past or snap my fingers to make everything disappear. But there was one thing I could do—I could be here when Noah returned.

So I transformed the room into a place he could call home. I dimmed the lights, lit a couple of candles I’d grabbed from the hotel lobby shop, and set a bottle of wine on the table to breathe, even though I wasn’t sure he’d want any. I wanted it to feel less like just four walls and more like a sanctuary.

Then I waited—impatient, restless, checking my phone every few minutes. Waiting for his call. Hoping there was more I could do for my boy, and quietly wishing he wouldn’t reach out to those who might only complicate things further.