Chapter 25 Noah
Noah
Maybe I was wrong.
I came back thinking Brad was going to be missing what we had just as much as I was, but maybe I was so damn delusional that I forgot all about why I left in the first place.
He’s with my mom. He has Paislee to raise. He has a whole damn life that I’m not a part of. Being with me would mean ruining everything he has. And I’m not one hundred percent certain I’m worth it.
Why in the hell would he ditch what he has for me?
I need him. Not the other way around.
I silently swear at myself as I make my way up to my bedroom. My old childhood room.
Because that’s what I am. A fucking child. Stuck in my parents house after acting like a total idiot and leaving in the first place.
I sit on my bedroom floor, head in my hands, as I put my head between my legs. I need to get a handle on my emotions.
My breathing is all out of sorts. My heart is beating way too fast. So many thoughts in my head.
It’s all too much.
I quickly think of something to help settle my nerves.
Rummaging through my drawers, I sift out my old grinder. With some searching, I find exactly what I’m looking for.
Cranking open my bedroom window, I stick my head out, just as I did when I was younger. Maybe it’s not a fix but at least it’ll help distract me from how I’m truly feeling.
I take my time rolling the paper, lighting it up, drawing up a long breath, and feeling the burn in my lungs before blowing out. The burn in my lungs feels good. Real. Grounding.
It’s making it easy to stifle how badly I want to cry. The tears won’t help anyway.
It was one damn weekend. I need to get it through my thick skull that it’s over. I broke it off, and he had every right to do the same to me.
I feel my pulse start to settle as I close my eyes, leaning my head out the window.
I need to just…breathe.
***
“Noah! Noah,” Brad’s terrified voice pulls me out of my head.
I didn’t even realize I drifted off. I open my eyes and adjust to his. He’s crouching over me, worry covering his face as his hand holds my chin in his firm grasp.
“Noah, what the—?” he sighs heavily, taking in the burnt out joint inside my old pencil case I used as a tray. “I thought you were in trouble when you didn’t respond.” He hangs his head down.
“I must’ve passed out.” I sniff, looking around me. “Sorry.” I can’t believe I was so overwhelmed.
“Are you okay?” Brad asks, looking at me, concerned. He absentmindedly grips my leg, using it to balance himself. I don’t want to move, in fear that he’ll realize and move it hand away.
I nod my head, even though it’s a lie. If having a panic attack is a sign for being okay. It’s not. I know that but I don’t want him to know how poorly I reacted. The last thing I need is for him to think he’s not good for me too.
“If I hurt you…” He inhales sharply. “I shouldn’t have said that at the park.”
“No. It’s okay. You should’ve.” I correct.
His brows crease, eyes scanning my face. “What?”
“You were right.” I shrug. “You gave me an option a year ago to stay and figure it out. I chose to leave.”
I see him racking his brain, thoughts bouncing all over the place. Finally, he looks down. “You chose wrong,” he mutters.
The guilt hits me hard. I know I did. “Yeah, well. Now, I’ve got to deal with it. Forget it even happened, like you said.”
A reaction passes behind his eyes. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s not good.
His fist clenches on my lap before he takes it away, leaving me feeling even more empty than before.
Brad scrubs his hand down his face like he’s angry at himself for even starting this conversation.
“Fine. Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t do that,” I huff.
He stands up, towering over me. “No, this is good. We’re finally on the same page. We’re all set.” He dusts off his pants.
“That’s what you want?” I ask.
“That’s what I want.” He nods, like it’s fucking nothing. No big deal.
“Sure, whatever.” I shake my head, threading my hair back with my fingers. “I’m exhausted. You’re exhausting.”
Why can’t he just be fucking honest about what he wants? This is his damn problem.
“Paislee’s napping, but I was going to work out. You mind listening to the baby monitor? Check on her in ten minutes?” he asks, walking backwards out of the room.
“Fine. Sure.”
“Great.” He knocks his fist on the doorframe before leaving the room.
I’ll drop it. I’ll leave him to feel like he’s got a handle on things, since that’s so clearly what he wants.
I’ll let him feel like he’s got control. That’s what he wants, right?
I’ll help him keep up this fake facade of not wanting me, while I’ll focus on figuring out how to stop wanting him.
Maybe one day I’ll believe it.