Chapter 7- He seems too good to be true.

Nicole’s POV

As soon as we left the inside of the bar while I leaped beside him, he backed me and in no time, we advanced closer to where I suppose he packed his car.

He walked with this quiet confidence, like someone used to leading. His steps were long and sure, and it was as if that even the pavement trusted him.

To be honest, I really don't know why he feels so familiar.

“Where do you want me to take you?” he asked, calling my attention the moment he made my legs gently reach the floor so I could stand on my feet.

“Oh! Right. So sorry, I wasn't thinking.”

But deep down, the truth is that I don't want to let him know that I didn't have a home for now, as there was no way Rowan would accept me back into his house. He practically said that to my face.

A lump rose in my throat the moment I remembered Rowan’s cold eyes, the way his voice sounded so final. What was the point? Besides, he made it clear that I meant nothing to him.

It would be wrong letting him—this sweet, unexpected stranger—know about that. I really don't like feeling helpless to people, especially one who barely knows me. And the fact that I didn't know how he would feel about it scares me even more.

“Look,” he said, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a lopsided smirk. “I would happily piggyback you to the end of the world if you wish since you don’t want to let me know where you stay.”

I blinked, caught off guard by how smooth his words were.

“But,” he went on, tapping his back dramatically, “my back’s a little sore because I just carried my team to a championship, you know. But either way, it’s not a big deal to carry you to any place of your choice. At least I can do that till your leg gets better. I understand the fact that it hurts, even though you’re trying so hard to hide it. But I can see through you just by looking into your eyes.”

I laughed gently at how funny he was, like how good he was with words. And honestly? The way he looked at me—like he actually saw me, not just my mess—made something soften inside me.

Just with how cool he seemed to be with me, at least I needed to let him know about my accommodation status. It’s left for him to feel whatever he wants to.

I cleared my throat, chewing on my bottom lip. “Well, I was staying with Rowan... since I don’t have a place of mine. But he kicked me out.”

My voice cracked on the last part before I quickly swallowed it down.

To my surprise, he didn’t act surprised in any way. There was no dramatic gasp or judgmental eyebrow lift. He simply looked at me carefully.

“And even if he didn’t,” he said, “if I got to know you were staying with him, just like I did... there was no way I was going to let you go back with that lousy excuse of a man.”

The words hung there, thick with sincerity.

He touched my face gently, “You know that. Just come with me tonight to the team hotel. It's large enough to contain the both of us.”

He requested it so simply, like it wasn’t even a big deal. Like offering his space to a half-broken girl was something he did at every given opportunity.

‘Like I have a choice.’

“You want me to go home with a stranger,” I said, raising my brows, trying to sound cautious, even though my stomach was flipping like crazy.

I was obviously acting up like I didn’t like the idea, but deep down, there were butterflies fluttering in my belly—big ones with hockey sticks. Because if this opportunity didn’t show up, I was practically going to be homeless.

There was this slight chuckle he let out, soft and low, and just that made me feel like I’d known him forever. Like maybe this wasn’t as random as it seemed.

“Let’s go home then,” he said and opened the door so I could get in.

I hesitated for a second before sliding in. Something about him made it feel okay. Like maybe I could trust him, at least for tonight.

He went over to the driver's seat, adjusted the mirror, and glanced at me before pulling out of the parking lot.

We didn’t say much during the drive, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It was the kind that felt safe, like we were both giving each other room to breathe.

**

In no time, we were already at his place, and we walked to his apartment in the team’s hotel.

“Welcome to my home. Please make yourself comfortable.”

He didn’t just say it—he meant it. His voice was warm, and his gestures were casual. Like this wasn’t a favor, but something he genuinely wanted to do.

Here is indeed so beautiful for a team’s hotel—the furnishing of this place is second to none. The leather couches looked like they belonged in a luxury suite, not a hockey player’s temporary lodging.

He helped me to walk in while I still limped slightly, and he made sure I sat on a couch right in his room.

“You good?” he asked softly.

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He excused himself and got back with what looked like a first aid box. His face was all serious now, like he was about to perform open-heart surgery.

He opened it and brought out a bottle of methylated spirit, some cotton wool, and plasters.

“Okay, this might sting just a bit,” he warned as he dabbed the spirit onto the cotton wool.

The moment it touched my knee, I winced and jerked back slightly.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly with brows knitting together. “I know it burns. Hang in there.”

He blew gently on the spot, like that could cool the pain, and weirdly, it did. It made me bite back a smile.

His hands were gentle but firm as he cleaned up the wound on my knee and then did the same for my hand.

“There you go,” he finally said, placing the last plaster carefully. “That was a first-aid treatment right there. It should help stop the bleeding and make it heal faster.”

He sat back on his heels, looking pretty proud of himself.

“So, your knee is as good as new. And you know you need to pay me as your personal doctor, right?”

He smiled. And I returned the smile, shaking my head.

“Thank you so much, Brad. I sincerely appreciate this a lot. No one has ever done this for me.”

I meant that. More than I realized until the words left my lips.

He looked at me, his gaze was soft but focused. “Why do you let him treat you like this, Nicole?”

The question hit harder than I expected knowing he was actually referring to Rowan. I blinked a few times, searching for an answer that didn’t sound like an excuse.

“Can we change the topic, please?” I asked, my voice a little quieter now.

He nodded slowly, letting it go.

“And talk about what exactly?”

I placed my index finger on my cheeks teasingly. “Hmmmmmm.” After what seemed like a little thought, I perked up a bit. “That reminds me... why do you call me Nic? No one has called me that ever since…” I paused in between as I didn’t want to recall the thoughts of all of it.

It’s in the past. And I better let it stay there.

He leaned back against the armrest and gave me a lazy grin. “Because it fits. You don’t look like Nicole when you’re grinning like that. Nic sounds... lighter. Free.”

“Free, huh?” I echoed, staring at him for a beat longer than I should.

He caught my gaze and didn’t look away. “Yeah. Like you’re finally breathing again.”

And in that moment, in his room that didn’t feel like a stranger’s anymore, with the smell of antiseptic still hanging around the space and pain dulling down in my knee, I realized something scary.

He might actually be right but to think that I don't know how long this kindness of his would last. Because he seems too good to be true.