The Stepbrother 2: Noah

Creed-

I woke up to the sound of beeping machines and the smell of antiseptics.

My memories immediately started replaying in my head.

Noah had been arrested.

I went into labor. The beeping machines, I soon realized, were tethered to me.

My eyelids fluttered open, heavy and reluctant, as they adjusted to the sterile brightness of the room.

The faces of everyone I loved came into view.

Why was everybody looking so sad?

“What happened?”

My voice sounded foreign, even to my own ears, as I broke the silence.

Everyone's eyes shifted uncomfortably, looking at everything but me.

Momma was the first to speak.

The flood of information she gave me was overwhelming.

It took me a minute to decipher everything she told me, and another to make sense of it all.

Noah had been in jail the entire time, and I had been in a coma for three weeks, teetering on the brink, battling for my life after a placental abruption.

I had survived, but my baby, the tiny life growing inside of me, didn’t make it.

The grief was instantaneous, a sharp, gut-wrenching pain that felt as if it was tearing me apart from the inside.

Then someone was shaking me.

Shaking me so much I felt woozy.

The sound of a crying baby jolted me awake, and I instinctively reached out.

My eyes popped open and landed on Noah, his face wide-eyed and filled with worry.

How was he here when a minute ago I was told he was in prison? And whose baby was crying?

"Wake up.

Meet our daughter, Creed," he said softly.

It took a moment for his words to register, for the fog of my dream—or nightmare—to clear.

The realization that it had all been a dream, a terrifying look into another reality, left me feeling profoundly grateful.

My heart slowed.

“How long was I out?” I asked.

“Two hours.

You pushed one, big time, our daughter slid out, and you fell right to sleep.”

I didn’t remember any of it.

Noah drew my attention back.

“Meet our daughter.

She’s already as loud as her mother and grandmother.”

He chuckled.

“I sent everyone down to the cafeteria; you’ve got an hour alone before the circus breaks out,”

he added, placing my tiny, wriggling daughter into my arms.

Black hair and dark eyes were the first things I noticed, then her tiny fingers and lips.

Her skin was a shade darker than mine.

"Shh, baby girl," I whispered, instinctively rocking her.

Noah stood at the end of the bed, staring at me with a goofy grin on his face.

“Why aren’t you in jail?”

I whispered.

Noah's grin softened into a smile filled with relief.

"Because I was never supposed to be in jail.

Months ago, I asked someone I knew who had access to federal data to run my name, to make sure there was nothing illegal tied to me.

Coincidentally, dear Grandpa and Grandma were trying to have me arrested.

They reported that I was a gun runner.

They’d had someone investigating me for months.

My name had been mentioned in association with some bad people a few times.

They had pictures of me with those bad people that they have the ATF.

There was nothing to worry about, which is why I didn’t tell you.

My lawyer was handling it, but some overzealous ATF agent found out who I was and thought he could make a name for himself by arresting the son-in-law of Scarlett Rose and the son of Wolfgang Engel.

Now he doesn’t have a job at all, and I might show up at his home and wave a gun in his family's face,”

he said, sounding and looking very serious.

I shook my head.

“Noah, please leave well enough alone.”

Noah’s expression softened.

Just then, the door opened, and the nurse walked in to inform us that our daughter needed some tests.

Reluctantly, I handed her over.

I immediately went back to the subject at hand “I mean it, Noah.

Do not do anything stupid.

Noah shook his head.

"I know, I know," he sighed.

"It’s just… after everything we've been through, the thought of someone trying to take me away from you, from her," his gaze drifted to the door, "it stirs something crazy in me."

“Oh Lord.

Where’s my daddy? I’m going to have to tell him to watch you because I don’t believe you aren’t going to do anything. .

That little vein in your neck is going crazy.

Are you taking your meds? I will tell my momma to make sure you do if I have to, and you know how she is.

Do you want her treating you like she treats Daddy about his meds? We need to focus on the here and now, Noah.

Don’t go messing with that man.”

“You’re going to tattle on me to your parents? Creed, you know they’ll probably plot with me, not against me.”

He laughed, then grew serious again.

Moving closer, he sat on the edge of the bed.

He reached out, gently stroking my cheek.

“Thank you, Creed, for everything.

I never saw myself in a position where I’d feel worthy of love, of affection.”

Tears sparkled in his eyes.

“I promise I won’t do anything to mess it up.”

Noah’s phone rang, interrupting our moment.

“Answer it,”

I told him when he hesitated.

He frowned after a few seconds of listening to the caller.

“Creed, your mother wants to know if she can have a second to talk to you alone.”

I readily agreed.

He told her so, and she immediately came into the room as he left to give us privacy.

She was Scarlett Rose in all her Scarlett Rosiness, wearing a tight band T-shirt that showed off her waist, ripped jeans, and a pair of white and beige Jordans on her feet.

I remembered when she would buy me every pair of shoes she got herself.

I missed those days.

She rubbed my forehead, pushing my hair back.

She started with a whisper.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

She paused to clear her throat, then began again.

“I know we aren’t on the best of terms, but I thank you for letting me be here to see my first grandchild being born.

I love DJ with all my heart, but he’s not of my flesh.

He won’t look at me and search my face for familiarity.

Your daughter will.

And I hate myself for being the reason I almost missed the moment.”

She burst into tears.

“I was so scared I would be turned away.

And I would have deserved it.

I was a terrible mother when I had the means and know-how to do better. I’m sorry.”

I reached out, taking her hand in mine.

“Momma, you shouldn’t hate yourself.

You navigated life the best way you knew how, and I was mad, but I was never going to really cut you off forever.

Especially after I got pregnant and realized life is hard when you have to figure out how to take care of someone else besides yourself.

I don’t even want to rehash any of it unless it’s in counseling.”

I was tired of missing my parents, of being angry and sad.

I was willing to forgive and forget.

Momma leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“I’m here for you, Creed.

Whatever it takes.”

Momma and I talked until Noah brought everyone in.

Besides Daddy and Wolfgang, Tempest, Demarco, and Lyfe were there.

Demarco and Tempest didn’t stay long but promised to come back.

Noah, after everyone had greeted me with hugs, kisses, and flowers, came over and retook his place at my side.

He reached for my hand, squeezing it gently.

"I heard what you said to your mother," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"I’m proud of you. I wil—"

“Aye, why are you sharing that much space with my wife?”

Daddy’s voice interrupted what Noah was about to say.

I looked up to find him staring towards the window, his face scrunched up.

I followed his line of sight.

Momma and Lyfe were both sitting on the extended windowsill.

Close, but not close enough to cause any issue.

Lyfe chuckled, throwing his hands up.

“Just speaking to an old friend.”

The smirk on his face hinted at more than friendship, making Daddy's eyes narrow.

“Old friend?”

Daddy responded, glaring at Momma’s guilty expression.

“He was African Giant’s bodyguard.”

Momma had said she wasn’t involved with African Giant, and now I kind of believed her.

She looked guilty of something.

Maybe those pictures in the tabloids of her with African Giant were actually with Lyfe, and African Giant just happened to be there.

She’d toured with him when she and Daddy were split up.

If she did mess with him, she hadn’t done anything wrong, but knowing Momma—and how Daddy is—she’d probably take whether she did or didn’t to the grave.

Lyfe gave Momma a nod and a smile before tapping the foot of my bed with his big hand.

Momma liked big hands.

“I wish you and your daughter the best of health.

I’ll be leaving now.”

He turned his eyes to Noah.

“I’ll call you.”

Daddy glared at him until he left, then turned his red face to Momma.

She sighed hard, “Later, not now, Troy.”

I wanted to take Momma’s side and tell Daddy to chill out.

He messed around during tours before he met Momma, then had a baby on her.

Who knew what else happened while they were broken up? Momma didn’t even want to know, but he was obsessed with her past.

We needed a distraction.

“What are we naming the baby? I pick Valentina.”

I said before remembering something vital.

“Where are your grandparents?”

“They’re dead,”

Noah said plainly, as if he was talking about the weather.

Wolfgang chimed in.

“My father had a heart attack, and my mother somehow tripped and fell down the stairs, breaking her neck.”

He and Noah exchanged glances, and I looked over at Momma and Daddy for answers.

Momma shrugged.

“I wasn’t there.”

“Neither was I,”

Daddy added.

That left Wolfgang.

“Where’s the nurse?”

I asked him.

“Back in Eastern Europe somewhere—at least she boarded a plane heading there.”

Noah and Wolfgang exchanged another look that had me wondering what they had done.

Noah slapped his hand over my mouth.

"Shhh, you have to be quiet.

You know your daughter has supersonic hearing, and your parents are awake," he whispered, amusement in his bright blue eyes.

He thrust his dick deeper into me as our skin glided together.

His thumb slipped between my lips, and I captured it between my teeth, biting down.

His eyes went wide.

He snatched his hand away, and I giggled.

Roughly gripping my chin, he silenced me again by slamming his mouth against mine.

He picked up speed.

I swear I heard the bathroom sink groan under my weight, but I was too gone to care.

If I fell, I fell.

It had been a week since we last had sex, and I was getting this nut.

"Creed," the sound of my father's voice shattered through what I wanted and what was going to happen.

I shoved Noah away so quickly he almost fell.

He glared at me with wide eyes.

I shrugged.

There was no way I was continuing to have sex with my father outside the room.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Your mother and I are going to take Ayaan to breakfast with us."

Both Noah and I groaned quietly.

"Okay, Daddy, but please do not give her adult food."

We made it to Florida last night around nine PM.

We went to shower and unwind, leaving our seven-month-old daughter in the hands of my parents.

When we came back down, she was growling like a bear, trying to gum the meat off of a chicken leg, while my momma recorded it.

She literally went crazy when I took it from her, throwing a tantrum until I gave it back.

Momma recorded that too.

Then Daddy accidentally dropped a piece of sweet potato pie on her table.

She shoved at it, then shoved her entire hand in her mouth, sucking it clean.

It was funny and cute, but I wanted to talk to the doctors first before introducing solids besides baby food.

Daddy wanted to know why I thought she would be allergic to anything when neither Noah nor I were.

He made a good point, but I didn’t want to find out the hard way.

I didn't have to be able to see my father to know he was on the other side of the door making a face.

"She'll be fine, Creed."

His casual dismissal meant I could expect my child to come back smelling like pancakes.

I wouldn’t forbid it; Ayaan seemed to enjoy her little adventure into the world of food, and it was hard to argue with him.

He was back to his normal self after Maine's death.

We could mention her without him looking as if he was going to break.

Counseling with the family was going well.

Momma and I were in a space where we were communicating better.

I understood her more, and Ayaan seemed to enjoy her little adventure into the world of soul food.

"Okay, Daddy," I tried to keep my tone light as realization hit me.

Mommy and Daddy would be gone, leaving me to be nosy.

Ever since Noah had hired Lyfe and I saw him and Momma together, I knew there had to be something more between them.

Hell, I would have tried him.

He was so big and sexy, with this lazy Up North drawl, but Momma would not tell me anything about him, no matter how I begged.

But what Momma didn’t know that I knew was that she had a little hiding place in the labyrinth of a closet.

It was a 20x20 square foot room where my Momma kept her clothes, old costumes, and memories tucked away.

When I was little and she was out on tour, I would search through her stuff, playing dress-up.

Now that we were back in Florida, I had a chance to be nosy.

"Bye, Creed," I heard my father's footsteps retreating away from the door, then stop.

"You too, Noah," he added.

We both groaned again.

We definitely weren’t finishing any sexual activities.

The moment I stepped into Mom's closet, it felt like entering a secret chamber.

It was like a room in one of those children's books where you could be swept away into a hidden world.

Every corner held pieces of her journey as the famous Scarlett Rose.

She never threw anything away.

There were racks of leather jackets, shelves lined with custom boots that had stomped across countless stages.

On the walls were framed photographs of her in the spotlight.

She loved the ones of her surrounded by fans.

That’s how she stayed popular for so long.

Momma was famous but not too famous to party with her fans or show up at her kids' school.

Vintage band tees were folded neatly next to designer dresses.

Scarves with bold African patterns hung from hooks.

The air was thick with the scent of her perfume, a fruity smell she’d designed just for herself, that she’d been wearing since forever.

I had walked through each inch of that room, so I knew exactly where to go.

Under her old costumes was a chest.

I had come across some pictures of her she wouldn’t want anyone to see there once when I was about fifteen, the last time I went in there, so I never got a chance to fully explore it.

I knelt on the soft carpet.

The chest was this old wooden box, adorned with carvings that were so intricate they had to mean something.

As I opened it, the hinges groaned.

I started pulling everything out one by one, checking.

I found the picture I was looking for at the very bottom.

One of Momma and Lyfe in a field of sunflowers, looking at each other, staring so deeply into each other's eyes it couldn’t have been anything but love between them.

Then there was one of them in a hotel; Momma was standing on top of the hotel bed in underwear and a t-shirt, looking like she was singing.

She looked so young.

I stopped at that picture, afraid I’d see something more intimate, and laid it on the floor next to me.

Under the pictures was a velvet liquor bag.

Inside were cards and a letter.

I carefully unfolded the letter.

I began to read it aloud, "Dear Scarlett, I can't make any fucking sense of why you're willing to give him another chance after what he did.

For a year you’ve been telling me how angry you are.

We've just begun to uncover what's between us.

It seems clear that there's something unique here, and I believed you felt it too.

Let's talk this through before you decide. Meet me."

“What are you reading?”

My Daddy’s voice cut off my words.

I jumped and tried to hide the letter.

I could tell by how wide his eyes were that he’d heard me.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going to breakfast.”

I tried to sound normal, but my heart was banging against my chest.

"Your mother asked me to pick out something nicer for Ayaan to wear..." His voice faded as if the words I had just been reading penetrated his brain.

I followed his line of sight.

He was looking at the pictures scattered on the floor next to me.

I cursed myself for being nosy.

Suddenly he just turned and left the room, and I knew I had really messed up.

I got up and left the closet, screaming for Noah.

I found Daddy, Noah, and Momma in the kitchen.

Daddy handed Noah the baby and asked if he could excuse him and Momma so they could speak privately.

Momma looked so confused by the anger radiating from Daddy.

When she looked to me for answers, all I could do was say, "I'm sorry."

“What did you do, Creed?”

Noah asked as he pulled me from the kitchen.

They argued for hours, and then the front door slammed.

I didn’t know what to do.

Later, I saw on the news that Daddy had gone and confronted Lyfe at his hotel.

Someone recorded it all.

He didn’t come home that night or the next five. I felt like shit.

Noah-

"Where's Ayaan?" my father asked about my year-old daughter as soon as I walked into the green room of the late-night rock show.

His mind went to putty anytime his granddaughter was mentioned.

Plus, he was probably nervous.

His appearance on the show later would be his first in over twenty years.

Now that he'd resurrected from the dead, he was getting all kinds of calls.

He used the excuse that he was mourning his parents to hold off until he was ready.

It was bullshit.

He had pushed his momma down the stairs without blinking and hadn’t voiced any regret.

He was scared of competing in a world he'd been removed from for so long.

He answered his own question before I could.

"Oh yeah, she would be sleeping.

That’s what 1-year-olds do at night," he said as I eyed him.

He was dressed in ripped jeans, a Kings of Leon band tee, clean-shaven.

He looked as young as me.

"You walk too fast, Noah," Creed came in behind me.

My father's face lit up.

Wolfgang loved Creed like his own child, but that could have to do with her treating him like he was her father too.

She shoved past me.

I watched her ass bounce as she made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

She kept talking about getting rid of the baby weight, but I was enjoying it.

The small tight dress she had on had my heart beating funny.

She was so thick and soft all over.

"We’re here and ready to fucking rock," Troy came into the room next, yelling, slurring the words.

He had been in full rockstar mode since we arrived in L.A.

He and Scarlett were performing together in public for the first time since their divorce six months ago.

Which was probably why he was drinking so much.

I regretted hiring Lyfe now.

He had been the secret that broke their marriage.

Troy asked for a divorce after Creed found the pics of Lyfe and her mother.

Scarlett fought him tooth and nail not to because she knew it was pointless, but Troy had it in his head that it was the principle.

Their first marriage was broken, and that meant divorce.

What he didn’t expect was Scarlett to be spiteful.

She was dating.

And dating heavily.

Movie stars, rappers, social media stars.

Troy tried to get back at her by fucking younger women.

Scarlett didn’t bat an eye.

All this was going on, and they were still basically together.

They still shared a house and bed.

I think they both wanted a break from the monotony, not each other.

Their new relationship was like a rollercoaster ride of emotions and drama, and I couldn't help but wonder how it would all play out in the long run.

Creed felt the divorce was her fault, but both Scarlett and Troy told her it wasn't.

I told her the truth.

She should have minded her own business or been sneakier.

They were already walking a tightrope; she helped push them off balance.

Troy obnoxiously threw himself onto the sofa.

He was wearing jeans and a band tee too, some German artist he loved.

His bodyguard took a seat next to him.

He and Wolfgang started talking about rehearsals.

I joined Creed at the food table, ignoring the food, smoothing my hand over her soft ass.

She swatted me away and whispered.

“Scarlett didn’t show up for rehearsal and hasn't been home in two days.

That's why Daddy’s acting like he's 25," she whispered against my arm just as the subject of our conversation entered.

Our backs were to the door, so we only knew Scarlett was there because Troy cursed, "What the fuck are you doing, Scarlett?"

I turned around in time to watch Troy snatch Scarlett from the arm of former Compton Avenue rapper 727.

This guy didn’t fucking learn.

A couple of years back, I had nearly put his head through the office window.

He had no respect.

Creed hadn’t renewed his contract, but he still prospered.

He was a hit on social media, showing up at studios and challenging other rappers to rap battles.

He had a few million followers.

Gen Z loved stupid motherfuckers...

Clay stepped forward to separate Scarlett from Troy, but she waved him off.

"I’m doing what I want, like you.

I saw your little girlfriend’s pictures on Instagram.

She looked well-fucked, laid in the bed in your secret condo.

Yeah, you thought I didn't know," she taunted. "What, she’s like twenty-five? Younger than your daughter."

Troy's face went red, and he dropped his head.

She nodded and said, "Exactly, leave me the fuck alone."

I wanted to knock the entertained smirk off 727's face, but I knew Scarlett would hurt his feelings more than I would hurt him physically.

Scarlett has some Badu, voodoo shit going on.

She made men she dealt with act crazy, and she really didn’t give a fuck about them.

It would always be her and Troy.

Everybody knew that but them.

The green room was filled with awkward energy.

I was so glad the producer walked in and told Troy, Scarlett, and Wolfgang to get ready.

Scarlett and Troy would behave on stage.

They loved their career more than they loved fighting.

Scarlett sauntered past 727 in a mini skirt and cut-up Lakers jersey, pausing long enough to tell him to wait for her.

We followed her, 727 tried, but I had Clay make him stay behind.

We watched from behind the stage.

The crowd went wild when Scarlett started singing my father's most popular song a cappella.

“Love is like a hurricane.

Leaves you battered, leaves you slain.

Toxic whispers in your ear.

Pulls you close, then disappears.”

Then Troy hit a guitar riff that sent them to their feet.

After the song, the host approached with a microphone, ready to ask them questions about their music and their lives.

Troy cracked jokes, Scarlett flashed her signature smile and did a little shimmy, and Wolfgang had to talk about why he faked his death.

He didn’t look happy, but he told his story.

After the show, we all agreed we’d head back to the mini mansion in the Hills that Creed had inherited from Lil Compton to celebrate.

We all made our way out of the studio, heading towards the waiting car parked outside.

There were a few people waiting for autographs.

Scarlett, Troy, and my father obliged.

Even 727 had a few fans among them.

Before we could get into the cars, a woman came running towards us.

I could hear her feet hitting the pavement.

"You killed my daughter! You devil bitch," my back was to her, but I recognized my mother's voice immediately.

I turned as she lunged towards Scarlett.

A knife gleamed in her hand.

For a moment, time seemed to slow.

Before anyone could react, the blade entered Scarlett’s back.

In that split second, chaos erupted.

Fans were running and screaming.

Troy and Wolfgang moved to shield Scarlett and Creed, who was trying to help her mother.

I was too stunned to move for a long moment.

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the night, sending shockwaves through the air.

Creed's scream sounded muffled.

Clay, with his gun still in his hand, ran over, kicked the knife away from Tiffany’s hand.

Troy was begging Scarlett, “Please, baby don’t do this. Wake up.”

My heart clenched with fear and disbelief as I dropped to the ground.

I crawled the inches separating my mother and me, my hands trembling as I tried to stop the flow of blood from her chest.

Clay had hit her directly in the heart.

"Why would you do that?" I whispered, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Tiffany was evil, but she was still my mother.

I was watching her die.

"Scarlett never did anything to you.

Why would she stab her?"

There was no answer.

I watched her life slip away.

When her eyes finally fluttered closed, I knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

Noah-

I ran my fingertips over the smooth wood of the coffin that held my mother.

Everything was so beautiful.

Creed had arranged it when I couldn’t.

I didn’t understand how she could be so strong for me when it was my mother who had stabbed hers.

It had been eight days since Tiffany's death, eight days of numb disbelief and sleepless nights.

Tiffany had never really been around, but now, as I faced the reality of her permanent absence, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of emptiness.

Even if she wasn’t in my life before, I got some kind of comfort from knowing she was alive and might come around to being a better person, a better mother.

Especially after what happened to Maine and after my father returned.

He’d requested a meeting with her that she’d never showed up to, so he decided that was all the closure they needed.

I kept seeing her get shot, hearing the impact of the bullet entering her chest.

Clay wouldn't be charged, thank goodness.

He did what he was supposed to.

Scarlett was in a coma.

She lost so much blood her body shut down.

The doctors didn’t know when she’d wake up.

Around me, the pews were empty.

Where were the mourners, the friends and family who should have been here to pay their respects? Tiffany’s death had made the news, the day, time, and place of her funeral had made the news, and no one came.

Had she been such a terrible person that she’d driven everyone away? Why was I even here? Maybe she was crazy like me? Was this my destiny? In the end, I’d push everyone away and have no one? Would my daughter eventually hate me? Would Creed?

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

I turned to see Creed, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen with tears, followed closely by Troy and Wolfgang, holding my daughter.

Jason couldn't even look at me, so I wasn't surprised that he wasn't among them.

I tried to smile at Creed when she reached me.

I hadn’t expected anyone to come.

“We couldn’t leave you to do this alone.

None of this is your fault,”

she said, rising to kiss my lips.

I swallowed past the large lump that had been lodged in my throat since that night as I nodded at her, then wordlessly I led them to the pews; the service would begin.

It began and ended in what felt like the same minute.

Nobody stood to give kind words about Tiffany.

There were no pauses in the service for people breaking down.

Nobody cared that she was dead. The worst of it all was I felt her death made my life easier.

We were on the way to the burial when Creed's phone rang.

She reached into her pocket and answered the call, her expression shifting from schooled to disbelief.

"It's the hospital," she murmured, her voice trembling with hope.

"They say Scarlett woke up." Without hesitation, we turned and rushed to the hospital.

My father called the funeral home to give them instructions.

We would arrive at the burial site until later.

The ride was filled with tangible silence.

All that could be heard was the heavy breathing caused by anxiety, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

Creed's hand trembled in mine.

I held it tight, my knuckles turned red; she leaned into me.

Finally, we arrived, our hearts pounding in our chests as we rushed through the doors.

The sterile scent of disinfectant greeted us as we made our way to the ICU, our footsteps echoing in the empty corridors.

A nurse ushered us into a small consultation room, where a weary-looking doctor awaited us.

“When can I see my wife?”

Troy rushed out.

"I'm afraid the situation is complicated," the tone of the doctor's voice sent my heart to my stomach.

"Scarlett regained consciousness, but her injuries were severe.

There's a possibility she may never walk again." Shock rippled through the room, leaving us speechless.

Creed reached for me.

As I watched everybody absorb the devastating news, their faces falling, a sense of helplessness settled over me, a suffocating blanket.

I couldn’t breathe.

This was my fault.

My mother's deeds were my sins too.

I let Creed's hand fall, turned, and walked out of the room.

I heard her heels clacking against the tile floor as she followed me.

I picked up speed.

The elevator was already open.

I slid in, but she stopped it just before it closed.

She stepped in, not letting it close.

“Noah, come back.

I know you, and you're thinking you inherited your mother's baggage and failures, but you didn’t.

What happened to Tiffany and what she did is not your burden to carry.

I need you to get it together." She paused, waiting for me to say something.

I couldn’t even look at her.

My family had brought nothing positive to hers.

I started to understand why Wolfgang had faked his death.

Creed stomped her foot like she was really tired of me, the sound echoing through the elevator, bouncing off the walls.

Luckily, no one was near us.

“God damn it, Noah.

It’s been over a week and you haven’t said anything, you don’t eat, don’t play with our daughter, and I know you haven’t taken your meds.

You will not curl into yourself and hide,”

she yelled.

“If I have to, I’ll Baker Act your ass and have your meds forced down your throat.”

She reached in and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at her.

“You don’t get to give up on me after everything we went through."

She left me with those words, stepping out of the elevator.

I wanted to tell her I wasn’t giving up.

I just felt like the universe had given up on me, but I couldn't get the words out past the lump in my throat.

I closed my eyes and just breathed as the doors slid closed, and all I could do was hope that tomorrow, when I woke up, life was better and there was a good chance it would be.

I had a daughter and a wife who loved me.

I just needed to move past the guilt.

I would eventually, wouldn't I?