The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,53

real or not. The leaves that line the trees are deep golden, wine red, and burnt orange. The cold wind makes for rosy cheeks and perfect sweater weather. The blue sky is endless, sprinkled with fluffy clouds. It’s simply exquisite.

But this Thanksgiving, my chill vibes are jittery. I’m nervous that Noah’s coming. Although part of me questions if he is still coming. After he punched Jace at last night’s game, I haven’t heard from him. He’s ignored my messages and calls and if I didn’t hear from Claire that Noah and the team are fine, I’d be worried. Instead, my feelings are hurt.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” I greet Aunt Mary and Uncle Joe as I pull open the front door of my parents’ home.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Indy.” Aunt Mary kisses my cheek hello.

“How’s the turkey coming?” Uncle Joe asks as he takes my aunt’s coat from her shoulders.

“Dad hasn’t messed it up yet,” I inform him.

“There’s still time.” He grimaces and hurries to the kitchen.

I laugh as my aunt rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry Vanny couldn’t come.”

Aunt Mary shrugs, giving me a soft smile. “Me too. I miss her. But, such is life. She should spend the day with Mike’s family. We get them for Christmas, you know?”

I laugh again. “Yeah. Are Claire and Austin nearby?”

“Oh, yes. They just went to pick up Noah. It was so thoughtful of your mom to invite him.” Aunt Mary gives me a knowing glance that I try not to read into.

My mom enters the foyer and whisks Aunt Mary away with the promise of wine. The doorbell rings again. I take a deep breath and smooth down my dress over my thighs. Glancing at myself in the mirror near the door, I take in my appearance. I took extra care this morning, curling my hair, applying eyeliner and two coats of mascara. I’m wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved dress with tights and boots and while it’s not the sexiest thing in the world, it’s me.

I stride to the door and pull it open. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

Austin grins, Claire rolls her eyes and calls me a dork, and Noah stares at me like he’s never seen me before. His expression is tight, severe. His posture is stiff. But his eyes, they bleed with emotions I don’t understand and a wariness I don’t like. My stomach drops and my nerves intensify. What happened in the past forty-eight hours that I missed?

“Come on in,” I say, ushering them out of the cold.

My cousins kiss my cheek, pass me their coats, and set off for the kitchen but Noah hovers.

“I can take your coat.” I hold out my hand.

He shrugs out of it and passes me his wool coat, his eyes intense as he studies me. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back last night.”

I shrug, glancing at him over my shoulder as I place the last coat in the closet. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Give him the chance to explain. “I figured you passed out.” I keep my voice light. Friendly.

He nods, his mouth pressed into a line.

“Congrats on the win,” I add.

He snorts, the sound derisive. “Yeah, thanks.”

I close the closet door and turn to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. I don’t know why I feel defensive and on edge but I do. Almost like a blow is coming and I need to protect myself from its force. “What happened with Jace?”

Noah winces, shaking his head. “Nothing. It was stupid. I”—he clears his throat, his eyes blazing—“overreacted.”

I bite my bottom lip, wondering if he’s going to say more. He doesn’t and the silence hovers between us, strained. But not strained with sexual tension and heat. Nope, this time, it feels all wrong. There’s an edge to Noah I don’t understand, there’s a coldness in his expression, an anger in his tone. “Is everything okay?” I ask, my stomach roiling. Something is wrong but what caused it?

He stares at me, his lips fluttering like he’s trying to form words but doesn’t want to say them aloud.

A flare of concern fans in my stomach. Did something happen? Is Easton okay? I’m about to ask him when the doorbell rings again. I hold up one finger to Noah as I spin around and pull the door open. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving, beautiful.” My oldest childhood friend, my best friend, Aiden is standing on the porch, holding a gorgeous bouquet of fall flowers.

“Aiden!” I shriek, flinging my arms around him. “What are you doing here? I mean, welcome. I