Semua Bab North & Rye: The Billionaire Hockey Captain Next Door: Bab 21 - Bab 30

Ethan: I woke without the reflex to reach for my phone, and the absence of that habit made the morning feel slightly unreal, as if I had stepped into a version of my life that didn’t quite belong to me yet. There was no immediate tension waiting in my chest, no mental preparation for whatever version of myself the world had decided to argue about overnight. Just the ceiling above me and a quiet that didn’t feel like it was building toward something worse. For a while I stayed there, letting it hold. It didn’t demand anything, which was unfamiliar enough that I almost didn’t trust it. Somewhere downstairs, movement broke through the stillness, followed by the smell of coffee that was strong enough to announce itself before I even reached the kitchen. Noah was already there when I walked in, leaning against the counter like he had always belonged in my space. Two mugs sat ready as if he had appointed himself responsible for breakfast and decided I had no say in the matter. “Morning,

Emma: By the time I pulled myself away from the rink, Danny had completely forgotten I existed, fully absorbed in Ethan now as he raced around the ice with the other kids. I lingered by the glass for another moment, then smiled to myself and turned toward the parking lot. “Emma.” I looked over my shoulder to find Ethan stepping off the ice, skates slung over one shoulder, crossing the lobby toward me. “Leaving already?” I nodded. “Danny doesn’t need me anymore.” “He definitely doesn’t.” “He practically kidnapped me this morning.” “I noticed.” “I promised I’d tell him when you came back,” I added with a laugh. “Apparently that also made me his personal chauffeur.” His eyes drifted back toward the rink, where Danny was enthusiastically explaining something to another little boy with far more confidence than accuracy. “So he told you I’d be here?” “He sounded very sure of himself.” “I should probably be concerned an eight-year-old knows my schedule better than I do.” “You p

Emma: By ten in the morning, I had already accepted that North and Rye was not opening today. My body had decided for me sometime in the night, somewhere between the feverish half-sleep and the moments I kept waking up convinced I had forgotten how to breathe properly. My throat felt like I had swallowed dry flour, which was almost impressive considering where I worked. Even the thought of going downstairs to flip the sign felt like a task for someone else entirely, someone more functional than the version of me currently negotiating with her immune system. Christine was away sitting exams, which meant there was no backup plan. No quiet handover, no one to step in while I recovered. I locked the bakery door anyway, turned the sign to closed, and told myself it was temporary. That word helped a little. Temporary sounded less like failure. Upstairs, the loft was too quiet. I stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, listening to the absence of movement below, trying not to think

Ethan: The rink at seven in the morning always felt like it was holding its breath. Empty seats, cold air sitting low over the ice, the kind of silence that made every small sound feel like it mattered more than it should. Mark’s crew was already inside when I arrived, four men in work jackets standing near center ice with clipboards and measuring tools, looking like they had been dropped into a job they were still deciding whether to trust. The oldest one, gray at the temples, flipped through his notes, then looked up at me like he was trying to decide if I was serious or just another rich guy with a hobby. “You’re sure about the timeline?” he asked. “I want the ice first,” I said, stepping onto the edge of the rink. My voice echoed a little more than I expected. “Roof, refrigeration, boards, all of that can come after. I need it skateable as soon as possible.” He frowned slightly. “That’s not how we usually sequence a build like this.” “I know,” I said. “Do it anyway.” There

Emma: The bell over Sophie’s shop has a way of telling me things before I want to know them. It carries through the shared wall, but it is the rhythm that gives people away. Quick, familiar, followed by voices instead of the usual silence of someone browsing. I was already elbow deep in flour sacks I had no business counting for a third time when Noah laughed from the other side. I stopped with the inventory sheet in my hand and, before I could talk myself out of it, walked to the window. No Ethan. Just Noah on the pavement, hands in his pockets, apparently waiting for someone or nothing at all. I stood there long enough to feel stupid about it, then went back to the flour and pretended I had not just abandoned my work for a man who was not even there. A few minutes later, Sophie came through the side door carrying an empty tray. “Two coffees and whatever pastries look least likely to collapse in a car.” I kept boxing croissants. “Noah’s driving somewhere?” “Back downtown later.