Chapter 17 #2
“I solemnly swear I won’t go rogue on the cutlery placement,” he said, hands raised. “Small appliances, though…”
She poked him in the ribs, and Ezra laughed as she switched to Spanish and started threatening him.
“How about pizza?” Atty was still scrolling through a menu.
I kissed his jaw. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
“Att, give me that,” Ezra called, holding out his hands. Atty tossed the phone his way and wrapped himself tighter around me.
“I like it here,” he said under his breath.
I smiled. “Yeah?” I reached back to run my fingers through his hair. He hummed in approval, and I turned in his arms, rising on my toes to kiss him.
“Yeah,” he said between soft presses of his lips.
I hesitated for a beat. “Do you want to stay over tonight?”
Lately, we’d either been sleeping apart or crashing at his place a few times a week. I knew he wasn’t comfortable at my old place, but now…
He smiled and nodded.
Things were different now. They were changing.
There was something about this place. It didn’t have an oceanfront view, but you could still glimpse the water from the backyard, peeking through the trees. The house was old but newly refurbished—wood-paneled outside, windows trimmed with care. It felt lived in already. Like a home.
The living room still smelled faintly of cardboard and lemon cleaner, the floor scattered with half-unpacked boxes and shoes kicked off in a hurry.
Someone had left a hoodie draped over the back of the couch, and the throw pillows were already misaligned from people collapsing onto them.
Music drifted from the patio—low and bass-heavy.
Colin and the others emerged from the spare rooms, waved goodbye to Jaz, and settled on the steps of the sunken living room. Colin walked out to the backyard and stole Sophia’s wineglass. Everyone laughed at something I couldn’t quite hear.
I immediately sought out Ezra. He still had my phone, but his attention was locked on the scene outside. His face was unreadable—stormy.
Just then, Paxton slipped into the kitchen beside him. That made me smile. Paxton was still a bit of a mystery, but he was a good guy. Even though he came across as confident, he wasn’t the most outspoken. Watching him awkwardly try to approach Ezra in real time was…entertaining.
I wished I had thought to buy popcorn.
“Do you need a hand in here?” Paxton asked.
“Nah. Pick something to eat. My appetite’s gone,” Ezra said, pressing my phone into Paxton’s open palm.
Paxton looked down at it like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
“Hand me that,” I said, pulling away from Atty.
Ezra was poking through the fridge. “Got anything to drink here?”
“Not unless you went out and got something,” I replied, tapping a pizza to order. I caught Atty’s pleased eyebrow-raise and smiled.
“The guys brought beer,” Paxton offered.
“Cool. Want one?” Ezra grabbed two and offered him one.
Paxton shook his head. “I’m good,” he said, pressing his lips together in a tight smile.
That little tidbit I already knew. Since I didn’t make a habit of drinking, I rarely noticed when others didn’t either.
It took me a while to realize Paxton didn’t drink—at all.
I’m not one for making assumptions, but I asked him about it one night, just to be sure.
And I was right. He was almost a year into his sobriety.
When I told him about mine, there was this quiet moment between us. A kind of mutual recognition. Like we both knew we had the same map out of hell. That we weren’t just compatible—we were safe. We could understand each other without performing. Without pretending. It meant something.
“Noah,” Brice called out, shaking me from the thought.
“Yeah?”
“The studio’s tight. We should play here too.”
“It’s a little small, but sure. If you’d like,” I said, and he held out his fist for me to bump. Brice and Jaden were younger, definitely wilder than their older cousin.
“You ready for the set next week?” Jaden asked.
“Debut time,” Brice sang.
“Yeah. Nervous, I guess,” I said with a laugh.
Atty’s hands came to rest on my shoulders, his thumbs pressing down in a comforting squeeze.
“I bet. That opening’s going to be sick,” Jaden added.
My stomach flipped. Paxton clicked his tongue at them, a silent warning.
“Oh right, never mind,” Jaden muttered, then drifted over to the couch and flopped down.
Laughter burst from the backyard, loud enough to catch everyone’s attention.
Holly was still smiling, while Colin and Sophia cracked up over something I couldn’t hear.
Ezra let out a low, annoyed sound, took a swig of his beer, and stomped up the stairs and out of view.
Paxton took a step after him but didn’t follow—just lingered there, torn.
It was like watching a soap opera unfold in real time. I should probably ask him about it, though. Ezra looked upset.
I met Holly’s gaze. It softened the second our eyes locked. It took me a beat to realize why.
Atty had looped his arms around my shoulders again, his chest warm and steady at my back as he chatted with Jaden about beach versus court volleyball.
His thumb was hooked through the chain around my neck—a habit of his I loved.
Sometimes he tugged it, sometimes he just twirled it between his fingers. Always gentle. Careful.
Holly gave me the sappiest smile—completely unguarded—and something inside me went soft. All the way to the tips of my fingers.
Yeah, friend. I got the guy back.
Day by day, Atty and I started easing out of our skittish, eggshell-walking phase.
The affection between us wasn’t one-sided anymore.
It wasn’t just me clinging to him, desperate to feel like I belonged to someone.
It was both of us. Balanced. Sometimes we touched like this, other times it was knees brushing while we sat or fingers linked while we walked.
It was everything I used to dream of having with him. Now it was ours.
She knew exactly what it meant for me to be here. To be okay. To be loved, not just fiercely, but gently. The way I never thought I could be. No wonder she looked on the verge of happy tears before taking a long sip of her wine and turning back to the conversation around her.
We had really come a long way. I had come a long way.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t afraid of what came next.
I leaned back into Atty, letting the weight of that land somewhere deep. I’d ask him tonight.
Couldn’t keep pushing it back forever.
After everyone had left and Ezra had turned in for the night, Atty and I finally got to fixing my room.
We were making the bed, just about ready to call it a night too.
Thankfully, he’d brought his bag from the club and had no work tomorrow, which meant he could stay over without having to run back for his things.
I pulled one of the corners tight and tucked it under the mattress. Atty was working on the pillow covers. It felt like a domestic twilight zone.
“Thanks for helping,” I said as I moved to the next corner.
He let a pillow drop to the carpet and grabbed another. “Of course. This place is really nice.”
“I know. Comfortable, right?”
He nodded. “It feels like you.” Atty finished, smoothing the blanket over the bed.
That made me smile. “I finally got to talk to Sam today.”
“Oh yeah?”
My stomach twisted, just a little.
It’s going to be fine, Noah.
“Yeah. It made me realize I forgot to bring something up with you.” Fine—that was a fib. I hadn’t forgotten. I’d been avoiding it.
“What about?”
I paused, took a steadying breath. “Seattle.”
He was tucking in the last corner when he stopped, straightening slightly. His hand landed on his hip, and the hint of a smile disappeared.
“My mom’s planning this thing in a couple of weeks. It’s kind of dumb for a bunch of reasons, but it’s for my dad, and she asked me to come.”
His face didn’t change. Too neutral. This wasn’t feeling right. Why didn’t it feel right?
“She asked me to bring you along,” I added, even though it now felt like two trains speeding toward each other.
Atty crossed his arms.
“So, I guess the question is…do you want to come? With me? To Seattle?”
We stood there, across the bed from each other, not moving.
He looked away first, and my chest collapsed in on itself. Of course. What the fuck was I thinking?
“Or not. You can just forget I said anything.” I forced a laugh, grabbed the duvet, and tossed it over the bed.
“Noah…”
“No, it’s fine. Really. Just forget about it,” I said again, a little too fast.
“Would you look at me for a second?”
I met his gaze. His expression didn’t budge. “I appreciate the invitation, but maybe it’s not the best idea,” he said, slowly—like he was choosing every word with care, like he was bracing for a meltdown.
My eyes dropped to my feet.
Okay. So you’re disappointed. Now what? Breathing exercises? The studio? Write a goddamn letter?
“Okay.” I kept my voice flat. I looked back at him, offering what I hoped passed as a smile.
He didn’t buy it. His face shifted, softening into something I hated even more than indifference—pity.
I shook my head quickly. “Give me a minute?”
I needed to get my shit together—but not here. Not with him looking at me like that. Not while it felt like we were slipping backward again.
“Noah.”
“Just a minute,” I repeated, skirting the bed and heading for the bathroom.
He caught my wrist before I passed. “Don’t go.”
“Atty, I’m fine. I just need a minute. You need them, too, sometimes. And I’ve given you that space,” I said, pulling my hand free.
He let go but stepped closer. “When I ask for it, it’s because I need to cool off and think. When you do it, you dig yourself into a hole.”
That hit harder than I expected.
“That’s what I used to do. Before. Not now.” I tried my best to keep my voice steady.