Chapter 17 #3
“No, you still do it,” he said. “The difference is, now you climb out. That’s what’s changed. But you still manage to hurt yourself first. So don’t walk away just to beat yourself up when we could talk about it. I know you’re mad—”
“I’m not mad,” I snapped.
His eyes sharpened. “Are you sure about that?”
“I’m sad, okay?” I said. “I’m not fucking mad. I’m just—I feel like shit, and I need a minute to stop feeling that and make sense of it.”
His shoulders sagged. “How are you going to make sense of it?”
I shrugged, looking away. “I shouldn’t have asked. You’re not ready. I need to accept that and let it go.”
“I’m sorry, Noah.”
That didn’t make it sting any less. I slumped down on the floor by the foot of the bed, resting my elbows on my knees and covering my face with my hands.
Atty sat down next to me, cross-legged.
“Don’t be. It’s my fault anyway.”
“It’s not. I’m just…” He didn’t finish.
I turned to him. He was worrying his lower lip, trying and failing to crack his knuckles.
“What?” I pressed when the silence stretched a little too long.
“Can we start that conversation over?”
I stared at him. “You want me to ask you again? I think one no is enough for tonight.”
“No.” He rubbed his hand over his face, visibly struggling with this. I knew it was going to be a problem.
“Why do you have to go?” he finally settled on.
I sighed deeply. “My dad’s going on four years in October, and my mom wants to celebrate his birthday.”
Atty frowned. “I thought you said it was in two weeks?”
“It is. My dad’s birthday was in September. For some reason, she thought it would be better to do the Mass then and not on the anniversary date.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Don’t ask me to make sense of it.”
“And it’s a Mass?”
“You know my family’s Catholic—everything’s a cause for a Mass. My sister’s going to be there, and my mom asked…” I bit down on my tongue.
“What?”
“She asked my brothers to come. One of them might.”
“That’s a big deal,” he said.
I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled slightly. “Kinda. But it’s fine.”
“And your mom invited me?”
“Yeah, her boyfriend’s family is going to be there too. Apparently, my dad’s birthday is a fucking holiday I didn’t know about or something. She thought it would be nice if you could meet everybody.”
“That sounds even more complicated.”
“Yeah, so it’s fine if you don’t want to go,” I repeated.
“I meant that it sounded even more complicated for you.”
I leaned my chin on my knees, hugging my legs. “Yeah, well.”
Silence stretched around us again.
“Noah…”
I glanced at him. His frown had deepened.
“Your dad died in October?”
The change in subject threw me. I nodded.
I was good at sidestepping that conversation. Never talk about dates—nothing that got too close. I had lied about it so much I couldn’t always remember the truth myself.
“That’s the date on your hip?” Atty bowed his head, his pale eyes finding mine and keeping me there.
“No.” I bit my lip before attempting to break another of my rules for him.
“October second was the last time I saw him conscious. After that…not so much. It’s a complicated date.
It’s a great memory mixed with a terrible one at the same time.
I didn’t want to remember the day he died.
I’ve actively been trying to forget about it for a very long time, so getting that on my skin permanently felt counterintuitive. That was on the fifteenth.”
Atty’s eyes widened. I wanted to look away, but I didn’t. It wasn’t pity I saw—just recognition settling in.
It was right around when we first met. Almost one year on the dot.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t want to bring up all that fucked-upness right off the bat.”
He shook his head, eyes falling to his lap. “You were going through so much, and I had no fucking clue. You should’ve said something.”
I bit my lip, thinking about just how much more I still hadn’t opened up about. “I know, Atty. If I could go back, trust me—there’s a long list of things I’d do differently. But I can’t change it. All I can do is say I’m sorry. Again.”
“You don’t have to apologize for it,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d stop making yourself go through everything alone.”
That made me pause.
I reached for his hand and pulled it into my lap. His eyes flicked up to meet mine.
“I’m trying, Atty. With you. Right now.” I swallowed hard.
“And I don’t want this to sound like emotional manipulation, but that’s why I asked you to come.
Not because my mom invited you. I know that weekend’s going to suck—I’m going to be triggered and overwhelmed, and I have no idea how I’ll keep it together. But I’m not running from it.”
His hand tightened in mine.
“And I wanted you there because being with you makes everything better.”
His gaze dropped to my lap, to our hands.
“But I get—”
“If I come, are you going to talk to me? About what’s going on?”
My heart skipped. “Of course.”
“I don’t mean just explain. When it gets bad—are you going to talk to me? Or are you going to disappear?”
I stared at him, guilt burrowing under my skin at the look on his face.
These are the scars you left on him, Noah. Deal with the consequences.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to talk to you. I promise. I might resist at first, but I’ll try my best. I swear.”
“This isn’t just for me,” he said, pulling on his hand a bit. “You said you want me there to help. This is how I help. You can’t leave.”
The other Noah.
We had talked about this a couple of times now—Atty’s theory of me turning into another person, shutting off my emotions. Every time, it was so fucking hard to hear because I knew who I was turning into. Maybe my dad had been right. Maybe we were more alike than I liked to admit.
And I hated that the one thing that had made me feel like absolute shit growing up, I had turned around and done to the person I loved. The hurt on his face—it was the same one my mother carved into me. That was on me.
It scared me shitless, because if I had one goal in life, it was to not be like her. And yet it was so fucking easy to fall into her patterns, her behaviors. Easy to let the anger take over and shut down the people who mattered most.
“I won’t shut off. Not with you,” I said, my grasp tightening. “Do you know what the one on my back is?”
He shook his head. “I figured it had something to do with your dad, but the date threw me off.”
“January fifth,” I said. “Of 2023.” Neither of them had the year. Just the month and the day.
His eyebrows shot up.
“That was the first time you told me you loved me.”
His lips twisted a little before he pressed them together. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the side of mine.
“Maybe it seemed a little rushed, and I know everything between us back then felt a little too intense. But you said it back—and I believed you. And even though I’m still not sure why exactly, it felt so real.
“When I got out of rehab, I needed something to remind me of why I was doing this. Why I wanted to change and get better. A really big reason that was strong enough to outshine everything else. And that was you. Your love. I wanted to become the kind of person who deserved it. Deserved you. Deserved a home, a life, a family. Even if I didn’t get you back, that was the version of myself I wanted to fight for. ”
He exhaled slowly. “It’s not about worth,” he said, voice trembling.
“I know—and I don’t,” I admitted. “Maybe, one day, it’ll sink in. But right now, it’s a goal. So when I say I’m trying, when I say I’m not going to run from this—I mean it, Atty. Not from you. If you need this, I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you. Even if that means fighting myself.”
He shook his head, but his lips curved into a small, albeit painful smile. “I’ll come with you,” he said, leaning back just enough to look me in the eyes.
“Are you sure?” I was caught between not wanting to hope and already doing it anyway.
“If you need this, I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you,” he repeated.
My eyes prickled. “The Atty and Noah Team?”
“Exactly,” he said, before leaning in and placing a kiss on my cheek. “Stretch your legs.”
I did as he asked, and Atty let go of my hand and—in one very surprising move—straddled my lap. I looked up at him, smiling, and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I pulled him close, hands resting on his hips, and he settled his weight over me.
It tugged at something deep in my chest, having him like this. It felt like a gift.
I curled my arms around his waist and held on tightly. “You feel nice up there.”
His hands cupped my face, tilting it up until I was looking at him. “Noah, there’s something else I need from you.” His voice was soft but serious.
“Anything.”
“I need you to stop thinking I’m some perfect being you have to live up to.”
My lips parted slowly.
“You’ve apologized enough. And I’m not fucking perfect. I made mistakes too—with us. This isn’t about you living up to me, okay?”
I nodded, a little too overwhelmed to speak.
“I know it’s going to take a while for you to believe me when I say this, but you’ve always been more than enough for me. I want to be who you need too. I love you.”
My arms tightened around him instinctively.
“Now nod if you understand me.”
I nodded again.
He dipped down and kissed me. “Good. That’s enough emotional growth for one night,” he said, and kissed me again, softer this time. “Let’s sleep.”
I chuckled, trying to settle the storm in my chest. “Let’s sleep.”
I followed him as he stood, and together we moved through the quiet, familiar motions of getting ready for bed—shoulder-to-shoulder, brushing teeth, turning down lights. The veil of domesticity draped over us again, light and warm.
This had always been what I wanted. A home. A life with him.
Maybe, one day, I’d stop feeling like I’d somehow tricked him into believing he wanted all of this with me. Like he was settling for less. But him being here, choosing to come with me—that felt like a very big step in the right direction.
I drifted off in his arms, our fingers tangled between us, my thumb brushing slow circles over the back of his hand. As I did, I let myself believe this was where we were supposed to be.