Chapter 19 #3
He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “Can I go back to kissing you now?”
“Fuck yes,” I muttered, just before his mouth found mine.
And I was right. It was better. A million times better.
His kiss was languid—familiar, comfortable, but deep in a way that carved through me. No one kissed like Atty. No one.
My hands slid through the sweat-damp curls at his nape as I rose on the balls of my feet, determined to close every inch between us.
His tongue moved against mine, coaxing, inviting, and I followed without hesitation.
When he pulled back, it was only to leave a trail of kisses along my jaw, down to the spot just beneath my ear—the one he always loved to mark.
“Can’t wait to have you to myself,” he whispered.
I smiled. “Oh yeah? To do what?”
Atty grabbed my chin between two fingers—gentle, but firm—and tilted my head until his lips brushed my ear. “Get you out of your clothes. Maybe not the shirt.”
I bit down on my lip, though a laugh still escaped. “What else?”
He nibbled on my earlobe. “Kiss you everywhere.” His voice was rough—and I could feel how much he meant it, pressed hard against my hip.
“What else?” I pushed, hungry for more.
“Have you on top of me.” His grip tightened on my hips, dragging me closer. “Watch you move. I’ve missed that.”
My breath hitched. That little burst of confidence in him was so fucking hot. There was no way to explain what it did to me hearing him say things like that—even if he still struggled with being blunt.
So I figured I could be the one to say the filthy stuff for both of us.
Looping my arms around his neck, I leaned in close, mirroring his pose. “You miss watching me ride that cock?”
Atty’s body shivered against mine. He didn’t nod—didn’t say a word. Instead, he leaned his forehead against mine, our eyes locking. I tilted my head back just enough to study him properly. He was turned on, no question. But beneath the heat, there was something else. Hesitation.
“What?” I asked, gentle now.
His lips parted, like he was about to speak. His gaze searched my face, but the words didn’t come.
“I forgot about this bit,” Holly’s voice interrupted loudly, and we both startled.
“What?” I didn’t dare to move an inch—mostly to avoid drawing attention to our matching hard-ons.
“You two clearly don’t understand the concept of dancing,” she said, smirking. “You can go back to mauling each other and putting on a show. Just letting you know—we’re all out back on the deck.”
I chuckled and gave her a nod as she walked away.
The tension between us loosened a little, and we made a halfhearted attempt at dancing again—even though our mouths kept finding each other, or any piece of exposed skin they could reach.
What felt like a very long while later, I finally left Atty with Colin, Ezra, and Holly, and went in search of the restroom.
The house was massive. Not exactly luxurious, but sprawling—crammed with a million small rooms that made it nearly impossible to find a damn bathroom. I ran into two closed doors and what looked like a kitchen before finally opening one that flooded me with neon light.
I was about to back out when someone near the door caught sight of me.
“Oh, hey!” he called.
I turned as he tilted his head, giving me a once-over. “You’re the new drummer from Echo, right?”
I grinned. “Yeah. Noah.”
“Oh fuck, man. You were so good tonight!” he said, clasping my hand and tugging me toward the group. “Yo, guys—this is the drummer,” he shouted, and a few of his friends turned to greet me.
Then I saw it.
As I turned, my eyes dropped from their smiling faces to the table in front of them—neat white lines of powder staring back at me, looking unnaturally bright under the fluorescent lights.
My heart stumbled. My mouth watered.
“Sorry, man. You want one?” he asked, motioning to the table.
One of his friends leaned down and snorted a line. The sound was muffled by the music but clear enough. I could almost taste it—sharp, chemical. Almost feel it numbing my gums.
The words lodged in my throat. Refused to move.
A hundred voices erupted in my head, layered on top of each other until they blurred into static.
Get out.
You’re celebrating. This is what people do.
You don’t do this anymore. Get the fuck out.
What’s one?
You don’t want this. This isn’t you—not anymore.
Leave.
Just for fun. Just for the party.
GET. THE. FUCK. OUT.
I forced myself to look at him again, pretending the cold sweat down my spine wasn’t there. My hand twitched to my nose, holding—an old reflex I still hadn’t broken.
And that—
That snapped me back.
I took a step away from them. “Nah, man. I’m good. Nice to meet you.” I gave them a forced smile, a wave—and ran the fuck out of the room.
My breath came in short, shallow pants as I weaved through the crowd, dodging bodies and pushing toward the nearest light source—anything that wasn’t that room. I muttered rushed apologies when I bumped into people. Finally, an opening—I stepped outside and took a deep inhale of humid air.
Eyes shut tight, hands braced on my hips, I shook my head.
This was nothing. Just a reaction. Normal. It was normal to want it. But I didn’t. That was what mattered. Right?
I didn’t do it.
Yeah, but you wanted to.
My thumb and forefinger pinched my nose, holding, then releasing. I sniffled and groaned, scrubbing my hands down my face like I could erase the craving.
Cut it out!
“Noah?”
Paxton stood by the banister, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His brow was furrowed—not judging, just…worried. “Are you okay?”
I could blow it off. Pretend.
But my hands were shaking, and my heart was still thudding—not in the good, electric way it had been earlier.
And Paxton would understand.
“No. I’m not,” I admitted.
He crushed the cigarette beneath his shoe and stepped toward me. “What happened?”
“I saw a bunch of people doing lines,” I said. “They offered—I didn’t say yes. But they offered. And I hadn’t seen that in…a long fucking time.” The words tumbled out of me.
His eyes softened, familiar with the weight of it. “Come on. Let’s go sit by the beach.”
He draped an arm across my shoulders and guided me forward. We were nearly to the stairs when I spotted the others.
Atty was the first to notice me. His gaze swept over me fast and sharp, his smile falling. He stood immediately.
“We’ll be right back,” Paxton said, giving a wave with one hand, the other still firm on my back.
I mouthed, I’m okay, and his shoulders eased. Just a little.
We kept walking as the music faded behind us. Paxton had already kicked off his shoes and told me to do the same. Something about the cold sand brushing against our feet, sinking deeper with every step, helped settle the frantic rhythm of my heartbeat.
Eventually, he dropped down onto the sand, and I slumped beside him.
He brushed his palms off on his jeans, eyes fixed on the dark water ahead. “You don’t have to talk about it. But I’m here if you do.”
“I thought that was the point of the walk.”
“No. You just needed space from it,” he said. “I’m not a big talker, either, so just…whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“How do you do it?”
“What?”
“Be around it all the time.”
Paxton sighed. “Honestly? I think it helps. Sort of desensitizes me to it. Don’t get me wrong—I hate how easy it is to get, but being around people drinking doesn’t hit me as hard as it used to. It’s not a shock to my system.”
Like it had just been to mine.
“I haven’t had a craving in ages,” I said. “I thought—” My voice broke. I thought I was past this. I thought that voice had finally died.
Paxton turned his head slightly, watching me from the corner of his eye.
“You know this isn’t a linear process, Noah.
Cravings happen. That’s why we don’t measure recovery in big chunks.
It’s one day at a time. You wanted it—so what?
That doesn’t undo everything you’ve worked for. Are things better now?”
“Yeah, but—”
“No. No buts. Are you happy? Right now, today?”
“Well, not exactly this second…”
He gave me a wan smile. “Don’t deflect. You know what I mean.”
I could still feel the echo of joy from being on that stage. Atty’s eyes on me. The bittersweet throb of my dad in my chest. It had been good. It was good.
“Yeah,” I said. “I am.”
“Then focus on that. I’m not even close to being sponsor material, but I know what it feels like to struggle. We take the little wins. That’s how we survive. You removing yourself from the situation? That’s a win. Not a failure.”
I didn’t feel like a winner. I felt ashamed. Disappointed. Angry at myself for even thinking about it. Was it always going to be like this?
“I’ve had close calls too. Give yourself some grace. I can tell just by looking at you—you’re tearing yourself down,” he said, voice gentler now. When I looked over, his expression matched it—soft, understanding.
“How?”
He smile softly. “Takes one to know one.”
“I just feel…” I took a breath. “Like I got slapped in the face with reality again. It took me so long to admit I had a problem—so much shit had to happen before I even wanted to change. And I thought I had it together.”
“We don’t have to have it together all the time.”
“I can’t relapse. If I relapse—”
If I relapse, I lose him. I lose everything.
I dropped my forehead to my knees and took a shaky breath.
“You can’t live every day afraid of that. Love isn’t supposed to be conditional.” His words hit something raw in me, like he’d seen straight through to the fear I hadn’t spoken out loud.
“If Atticus messed up—made a mistake—would you try to forgive him? Work through it together?”
“Yes,” I said instantly.
“Then why don’t the same rules apply to you?”
“Because I already fucked up once—he said he’d break up with me if I used again.”