Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
AFTER
Istared up at the brick building.
It wasn’t especially tall—just five floors—but three of them stood between me and my sanity.
This was a bad idea. An old Noah idea.
Coming to his place and standing outside like a creep—for what? He wasn’t going to look out the window and say he forgave me. That he still loved me. Not when I was basically stalking him after he asked for space.
He needed time. I knew that. Atty liked to sit with his feelings, let them settle before speaking. That had always been a line I crossed. But not now. Now, I could respect that. I could respect him.
So why the fuck was I still standing here?
I’d called Samuel after Atty left, after pacing my room for half an hour like a man on fire.
He said I had to let him cool off. That it was healthy.
And I knew it was healthy. But something in my chest—maybe in my fucking DNA—insisted it was the wrong call.
That I had to fix this. Right now. That we needed to talk.
Wasn’t that the whole point? That I never talked before?
This was growth. Probably.
I sat down on a bench across the street, elbows braced on my knees, head hanging low.
I’d spent so much time learning how to talk, how to feel. But now, when I actually had to do it, everything short-circuited.
Pulling out my phone, I opened his contact and stared at it.
Texting felt less unhinged than knocking on his door at ten p.m.
Me
Atty I know you need to cool off and you absolutely can for however long you want
but in case you want to talk
I’m here
That would have to do.
I stared at the message, waiting like an idiot. Then shoved my phone back into my pocket.
You did the thing. Now go home. Be sane.
My phone vibrated, and I nearly dropped it in my rush to grab it.
Atty Love-of-my-life King
I’m cooled off
My chest lit up. Hope bloomed fast and bright.
Me
yeah?
do you think I could call you?
or we could text too
if that’s what you want
I can text
The typing dots appeared, flickered, disappeared. Then came back. Then vanished again.
Okay. Maybe he wasn’t ready. That was fine.
Suddenly, his name flashed across my screen as a call came through.
I picked it up on the first ring. “Hey!”
“Hey.” His voice was soft. Cautious.
“I’m glad you called.”
He didn’t answer right away. I let the silence stretch a second too long.
“I’m sorry, Atty. I didn’t mean what I said. The last thing I want is for you to—”
“Noah.”
“Yeah?”
He sighed into the line. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
My mouth parted. “I didn’t?”
“I mean, you could’ve skipped the part where you called me desperate…”
I cringed, eyes shutting tight. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know. But that’s not really the point.
” His voice stayed calm. “When we got back together, you asked for one thing—time before we had sex—and all I’ve done since is push.
On everything, if I’m being honest. I think the problem is we want different things, and we haven’t figured out how to meet in the middle. ”
I shook my head, heart sinking. “I want what you want, Atty. I promise I do. It’s not about that.”
“Noah—”
A car horn blared.
I jumped, clutching my chest as a guy sped past. “Shit! Sorry.”
A pause.
“Where are you right now?”
I bit down on my tongue.
There was one rule I lived by—born from our breakup, but necessary even beyond that. No lying. Not even the white ones. Those were off the table. Forever.
“On the street,” I said, choosing my words carefully.
“What street?”
Fine, fuck. He’s already aware you’re not exactly stable—even though you’re supposed to be convincing him otherwise. But fine.
“Yours…”
“Are you standing outside my building?”
Good job, Noah.
“Yeah,” I said, barely above a whisper.
“I should probably be more surprised.”
“I swear I wasn’t going to tell you. I wasn’t going to ask to come up. I just wanted to talk, and it felt wrong being far away. I know what you asked for, but—”
“Noah,” he cut in. “Come upstairs.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Come on.”
I took a deep breath, hung up, and made my way up to him. When I reached his door, he was already leaning against the frame, arms crossed.
“Sorry for showing up like this.” The words spilled out the second I was in front of him.
“Come inside.” He turned and walked to his room.
I followed, eyes drawn to the way his back moved with each step.
The door clicked shut behind us and I sat at the foot of his bed, looking up, waiting. “Is it time for another uncomfortable conversation?”
He nodded. “Seems like it.”
“Are you going to sit?”
He did—right beside me. His entire left side pressed against mine, and somehow, that let me breathe easier. I took his hand and laced it between both of mine, holding them close between my knees.
“I need to know what it’s really about,” he said.
“Because you’ve said you want us to be ready, but it doesn’t feel like that’s all.
And I get the rest—the dates, not staying over, not defining things yet—I understand.
We don’t want to fall into old habits. But even those boundaries feel hard sometimes…
because it doesn’t feel like us.” Atty stared at his lap, a small frown tugging at his mouth.
“What do you mean, it doesn’t feel like us?”
He shrugged, shaking his head. “I know it wasn’t always healthy, but…was everything bad?” His eyes flicked to mine for a second, uncertain.
I squeezed his hands a little tighter, trying to keep mine from shaking. “I don’t think so, no. Otherwise, what are we even doing here, right?”
“I miss the little things. Like the breakfast singing. Like sleeping together.” His voice cracked slightly. “I really loved those things. And they didn’t feel bad.”
“They didn’t feel bad to me either, sweetheart,” I said, pressing my lips gently to his shoulder. His skin was warm through the fabric of his shirt.
“And it’s not just about getting off,” he continued, quieter now. “It’s that I want to be closer to you. You always used to want that too. And now…there’s this wall, and I don’t know what changed.”
I let go of his hand and cupped his face. His eyes were red around the edges, and it hit me like a punch to the gut.
“First of all, if you’re worried I don’t feel the same way about you,” I said. “I want to make it abundantly clear that the vast majority of my thoughts throughout the day—every single day—revolve around your dick.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, a small, helpless laugh escaping. “Noah…”
“I don’t just mean that in the creepy, imagine-it-all-day way,” I added, grinning. “I mean in the active, interactive sense. Which, now that I’ve said it, sounds worse—but my point is—”
He tried to cover his face with his hand.
I tugged it away, smiling softly. “My point is, this has nothing to do with wanting you less.”
His laughter faded, and his expression turned serious again. “Then…?”
“I do want us to be ready,” I said. “And what I meant before is…it feels like it’s coming from fear. The way we’re pushing into things, it feels anxious. And that doesn’t feel like you.”
He pressed his lips together, considering. “I am scared.” His gaze dropped to his lap. “I’m still terrified that this isn’t going to work. That I’ll have to go through getting over you again.”
I ran my fingers through his hair. “Me too. But as my therapist wisely pointed out, we can’t build a relationship on fear.”
He smiled faintly. “What else did he say?”
“That we need to grieve our past and build something new.”
He nodded, eyes flickering back to mine. “The rules?”
“The rules,” I echoed. “We’ll find a new us, Atty. It doesn’t always have to be this strict, but we needed a little help finding our footing first.”
“So that’s why you don’t want to have sex?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to—”
“You know what I mean,” he interrupted. “Is that all it is?”
I looked at him for a long moment before shaking my head. “I’m scared to.”
His expression softened immediately. “Why?”
I dropped my hands from his face and rubbed them over my own. “Because sex has always been complicated for me. Even with you. And I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“How are you going to do that?”
I pressed my palms to my knees and shifted on the bed before facing him again. “That conversation we had at the gym? Before we got back together?”
Atty nodded slowly, something shifting behind his eyes.
“I don’t want you to ever think I’m trying to use sex to keep you. Or to quiet your doubts. Or to make you forget when I fuck up. I wasn’t trying to do that—to fuck you into submission, to use you like that.”
His eyes widened slightly with understanding.
“I know I did it, though. And I’m sorry…I’m so sorry it ever got to that. I know my relationship with sex isn’t exactly healthy. I’ve tied too much of my worth to it. And I did that with you. Too much. Because I didn’t know what else I had to offer. Why you’d want to stay.”
“Noah…”
“I’m working on that. On believing it’s not true.
That there are other reasons. And that one day I’ll actually feel like I’m enough.
” My voice faltered, and I cleared my throat.
“Anyway. I just want to make sure I’m not doing it for the wrong reasons.
Like it’s some kind of bargaining chip. So maybe it’d be better if we waited. Until this feels easier to navigate.”
He slid a warm hand behind my neck. “I’m sorry for saying that, Noah. I was just upset.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. And I think we both did it.” I hesitated. But I needed him to know. “There’s more to it, though.”
“What?”
I held his gaze and shrugged. “We had a terrible habit, you and I.”
He didn’t look away.
“We liked to hide our problems with sex.”
Atty leaned back, his chest deflating a bit.
“For me, it felt like I could forget everything—just lose myself in you and…”
He nodded, his face tightening with something that looked a lot like regret. “And I knew it kept you under control.”
That’s it.