Chapter 57 Noah
Chapter fifty-seven
Noah
My vision is fuzzy around the edges, the blood whooshing through my veins audible over my labored breathing.
Panic claws at my chest as anxiety coils tighter, making my stomach turn.
Did that really just happen?
At my house? On my watch? Because of me?
“Noah.”
I glance up, startled at the voice, and find Sawyer standing close.
“Hey,” she says softly, brushing a sweaty tendril of hair off my forehead. “You’re okay. Mercer and Tytus are safe. We’re all okay.”
They weren’t.
They still aren’t.
No one is ever truly safe around me.
Saliva floods my mouth. I bend at the waist, worried I’m about to be sick.
“Noah.” She smooths one hand up and down my back. “Listen to me.”
I can’t.
I won’t.
The porch fucking collapsed because of my neglect.
Straightening, I suck in a shuddering breath. “I knew those boards needed to be replaced,” I choke out.
“It was an accident. You can’t protect everyone from everything,” Sawyer counters.
I drop my head into my hands. “They started to discolor this summer. I bought the supplies to replace them, but I hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I’m so fucking stupid. I was reckless and played with people’s lives.”
“Noah.”
Her tone is firmer now. Less sympathetic.
Good.
I deserve her ire. I did this. All this pain and suffering happened because of me.
“You don’t get to blame anyone for this, least of all yourself,” she says, pulling my hands away from my face. “Sit back,” she demands, pressing against my shoulder until I lean against the wall.
Wordlessly, she straddles me and cups my cheeks.
I turn my head, determined to look away, but she tightens her hold, forcing me to meet her gaze.
“That was awful,” she starts. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now. But I refuse to let you harbor any guilt over what just happened. It was an accident, Noah. Accidents happen.”
My throat clogs with emotion, making it nearly impossible to choke out the next words.
“My family died because of me.”
She stills, and I swear she shrinks in on herself, as if she’s retreating.
This is it.
This is how we end.
Eyes searching mine, she whispers, “What do you mean, your family died because of you?”
“My parents, my gram, and Meg all died in this house. While I was out living it up with Mercer. I didn’t check the stove before I left.
I don’t remember if I checked the alarms. I don’t know if the carbon monoxide detector didn’t go off, or if they didn’t hear it.
The alarms failed. I failed. Everyone died because of me. ”
Nothing but Sawyer’s soft breathing fills the noxious silence, so despite feeling like I’ve already overshared, I continue.
“Mercer and I went out to a concert. Meg said she wasn’t feeling great.
Really, I think she stayed back so I wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving the house.
My gram had dementia. She’d already had two bad days that week.
My parents were exhausted, and Meg said she was happy to help.
I didn’t even want to go at first,” I admit, peeking up.
Her green eyes are glassy and fixed intently on my face.
“But then we had an amazing time.”
The confession makes my throat constrict.
“It was an incredible show,” I admit. “We took our time getting back to the car afterward. We ran out of gas before we even got out of the parking lot. The sun was rising by the time we got home. They’d been dead for hours.”
“You found them?” Sawyer asks, her voice trembling.
I shake my head, my gut clenching. “Edna found them. We pulled in to lights and sirens and nothing left to hope for. Serves me damn right.”
Sawyer lets out a sob. “Noah, no,” she cries, cupping my cheeks again. “It wasn’t your fault. You can’t really believe—”
“They’re dead,” I bellow. “They’re all dead, because of me.”
Thick silence falls over the foyer.
I’ve never lost my temper with her. She’s never seen this nasty, awful side of me.
This is how it ends. That, I’m sure of.
I shouldn’t let her see me like this. I’m ruining everything; I can’t keep it together. This is what breaks us. This day will change how she sees me forever.
It’s over.
I ruined it because I was careless again. Because I let my mask slip and she’s finally seen my truth.
When she shifts in my lap, I close my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek to stave off the tears. This is it. This is when she gets up and walks away.
She’s better off without me, I remind myself. She’s better and safer without me in her life.
I keep my eyes screwed shut, too much of a coward to watch her leave.
A tender brush of her lips against the side of my neck startles me, and I suck in a breath, though I can’t look at her, certain it’s a goodbye kiss.
But then her lips are pressing into my skin below one ear, then lower and lower again. She covers my neck with sweet, slow, tender kisses, each one more reverent than the one before.
When she stops, she pulls away, but she doesn’t get up.
Finally, I crack one eye open and find her staring at me.
“It’s not your fault,” she repeats, her voice loaded with conviction. “Because if you follow that logic, then I’m the reason my parents are dead, too.”
A shudder works its way through me. “Honey, no.”
How could she think—
She grips my chin and kisses me on the lips, pouring love and devotion into me. It’s so perfect. Despite my shame and the pain coursing through me, I can’t help but kiss her back.
With a sigh, she pulls back and regards me.
“Listen to me, Noah Henry. Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes awful, life-altering situations shatter a person’s world.
You’ve dealt with more than your fair share of that.
I’m so sorry. But you don’t get to cast blame on yourself for what happened to your family without implicating me in what happened to mine. ”
Snarling, I shake my head. “That’s not fair.” She can’t compare her parents’ murder with the accident I caused. Yes, we’ve both lost people we loved, but the circumstances—
“I don’t care about fair. I care about you, and I’m not going to let you blame yourself.”
“Not. Fair,” I grit out.
She has the audacity to smirk. “Maybe not. But it’s effective.”
Head hanging, I exhale. I hate to admit it, but she’s right.
She’s not responsible for the deaths of her parents.
I’m nowhere near ready to absolve myself of the guilt I’ve carried for almost two years. My grief is too wrapped up in it. Without one, the other might cease to exist, and I never want to stop remembering or honoring the people I lost.
But maybe with Sawyer’s help…
“I love you,” I croak out, lifting my head, letting her see the truth there, showing her how deeply she’s changed me.
This woman waltzed into my life and has surprised me at every turn. And she continues to challenge me in the most surprising, beautiful ways.
“Thank you,” I add, the words a quiet prayer of gratitude.
I’m broken.
I have so much recovery ahead of me.
But Sawyer isn’t scared of my darkness. She doesn’t shy away from the parts of me I try so damn hard to hide. She won’t get scared off if I have a bad day. I love her, she loves me, and I trust that I’ll never be too much for her to handle.
She wraps her arms around me and burrows her face into my neck. “We’re okay. And in moments when we’re not, we have each other. I love you, Noah. Because of that, no matter what challenges we face, we’re going to be okay.”