Chapter 2
Brad
Noah is exactly how I expected him to be.
A complete and utter asshole.
This is why I insisted on meeting him before Veronica and I tied the knot.
Something about their relationship always felt off.
The way he avoided coming around. The way she stiffened every time she took his calls.
My gut said something was wrong, and I’ve learned not to ignore it.
Especially not before signing my life away.
Getting married to a woman I barely knew, who also had an adult son she seemed to be on the outs with, wasn’t exactly how I envisioned my happily ever after.
But the truth is, when I met her at Home Depot that Sunday morning, lost, wandering through the gardening aisle—I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Needed. Like there was some invisible pull drawing me toward her.
Almost as if… we were meant to meet for some reason.
Hookups weren't cutting it anymore and I’d been itching for something…real. Or at least, real enough.
All I know is that when she insisted on grabbing a drink after, I didn’t hesitate.
One thing led to another. Dates became sleepovers. Sleepovers somehow turned into talk of rings. And before I knew it, she started asking when I planned to propose.
And in a panicked haze, I find myself here—sitting beside her son on a wilderness getaway.
Ironic.
And honestly? I’m surprised he said yes.
But he did. And now I’m not sure if this was a good idea… or just a way to delay the inevitable.
I steal another glance at him. He hasn’t said anything for the past hour. Just…sits there, leaned back in the passenger seat like he has no care in the world. He exhales slowly, letting the smoke from his cigarette slip from his lips as it drifts away in the wind.
The whole thing is almost… cinematic. Though something tells me he doesn’t give a damn what he looks like.
He’s good-looking. I’ll give him that. Probably doesn’t have a problem finding someone to warm his bed. He’s got his mom’s dark beauty, but where she’s all warmth and easy smiles, there’s something cooler behind his eyes. Quiet. Sharp. Dangerous, maybe.
He doesn’t look like anyone I work with. I’m used to Carhartts and steel-toes. Noah wears a black sleeveless tee, small tattoos scattered across his arms, and a silver lip ring that flashes in the sunlight every time he presses his lips together for another drag.
That lip ring. I don’t know why I keep looking at it.
I wonder what it felt like going in.
What it feels like between his teeth.
“Are you planning on staring at me all weekend, or should I brace for impact?” he mutters, eyes still on the blurry trees. But I can feel the smirk behind the words.
I swallow, flicking my gaze back to the road. Shit. Guess I was staring.
“Sorry,” I say. “Just... you and your mom are so different.”
“You like comparing us?”
“No, I—”
“Good.” He turns to finally look at me. “Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself trying to figure it out.”
My jaw tenses as I grip the steering wheel, refocusing on the road.
He leans forward and starts fiddling with the stereo. “What is this?” The speakers buzz with static and short clips of tunes as he continues flicking through the different stations. “Did they run out of songs and just hit replay?”
“I had my Bluetooth on before you got in. Didn’t know what you liked. Figured I’d save myself the judgment.” I nod toward my phone in the console.
He lets out a quiet huff of amusement. My chest tightens a little. That’s the first real sound of life I’ve gotten from him all morning.
“You’d need cool points to lose them,” he says flatly, reaching for my phone.
Right. I walked straight into that one.
“What were you listening to, anyway? Bee Gees?” His brows pinch as he plugs in the aux cable.
I chuckle. “How old do you think I am?”
He shrugs, grinning sharply. “Old enough.”
My most recent song kicks in through the speakers—“Come As You Are” by Nirvana.
He pauses, arms folding behind his head, chest rising slowly. “Huh. Not bad.”
“I have a feeling I’m gonna surprise you a lot this weekend,” I say, letting myself smirk.
“Doubt it,” he says, not even looking at me.
I glance over at him again. “Are you this charming with everyone you meet?”
“Nah.” His head tilts. “I just like making sure people don’t confuse themselves.”
“And what would I be confused about?”
He looks over. Eyes steady, burning a hole in the side of my face.
“Thinking you’re different.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. Not a full smile. Just enough.
My stomach does a slow, strange turn. I grip the steering wheel tighter, facing the road again.
The silence stretches between us. I reach over to turn up the music, just enough to fill it.
He’s not here to bond. He’s here to mess with me. To make me regret ever asking to meet him. And damn if it’s not working.
***
We turn off the main road and onto the trail leading through the backwoods. Nothing but tall trees, winding dirt paths, and the kind of quiet that makes you feel like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
Just how I like it.
I’ve been camping since I was a kid. There’s something about being surrounded by nothing but nature that always centered me. Out here, there’s no distractions, no hiding. Just you, the fresh air, and the quiet. It’s addictive how freeing it can be.
I booked us a site tucked away from the others. A bit of a hike to the shared restrooms and showers, but I figured it struck a decent balance—private, but not so remote it screams serial killer energy.
“Have you ever been camping before?” I ask, glancing over.
“Uh…yeah.” He awkwardly coughs. “Went once or twice with my dad when I was little,” he says, shifting his sunglasses down over his eyes.
Dammit. I shouldn’t have asked.
I know about his dad leaving them a few years back—gone in the dead of night without a word. Veronica didn’t say much more, just that it changed Noah. And while I can’t pretend to know what that kind of loss feels like, I’ve seen what it does to people.
“Right…” I nod, keeping my voice even. “Well, I figured we’d start with the tents. Grab a snack. Maybe hit the water, see if we can fish something up.”
I ease the truck into our clearing and throw it in park, backing in for easier unloading. Noah doesn’t budge an inch.
“What is it?” I kill the engine and turn to face him.
He shifts in his seat. “I… forgot my sleeping bag.”
I blink.
“Seriously?”
“Didn’t pack it,” he states firmly. That’s it. No apology. Just a statement. Like he’s testing how far he can push before I snap.
I drag a hand through my hair. “Okay… fine. You can have mine. I’ll deal.”
“And… my tent. I didn’t bring my tent either.”
I stare at him. “You didn’t…” I exhale slowly. “How the hell did we make it this far without that coming up?”
He shrugs, unapologetic. “Guess I didn’t think about it.”
“We’re going camping. That’s literally the one thing you do think about.”
He smirks, like he’s enjoying this. “Look, if you’re that upset, we can always turn around. Go home.”
Ah. There it is.
“No,” I say, already stepping out of the truck. “We’re not doing that. We’ll share.”
I hear his door swing open as he hurries after me to the back of the cab.
“You’re joking, right? We’re not sharing a tent. And definitely not a sleeping bag.”
“Got a better idea?” I open the tailgate, pulling out the gear. “Because unless you want to freeze or sleep upright in the cab with dead legs, this is it.”
“I still think the truck sounds better.”
“It’s not.” I drop the tent on the clearing. “Also, it’s your mess. This is the fix. Deal with it.”
He huffs behind me, clearly debating whether to keep arguing. But he doesn’t. That silence? I’m counting it as a win.
I get straight to work setting up. Thankfully, I brought a tent big enough for two. Is it ideal? No. Will it be tight? Sure, but not suffocating. We can make it work. At least, that’s what I tell myself…until I picture us trying to sleep.
My chest tightens. That will be…uncomfortable, to say the least. Sharing the same air. Maybe brushing knees as we both move during the night.
I push the thoughts away and keep moving. We’ll deal with it when we get there.
After a few minutes, Noah joins me. Doesn’t say anything, just starts helping. It’s a small thing, but it takes me by surprise. He could’ve just sat back and watched me struggle. Maybe he even wanted to. But here he is, holding the poles steady, passing me stakes.
There’s more to him than the attitude. A side that wasn’t always so sharp or prickly.
And I’m curious to see that side… even if I know I probably shouldn’t.