Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
It’s Christmas Eve.
Once upon a time, I would spend this day lost in a torrent of preparations—dusting the guest rooms for the arrival of Eric’s family, starting appetizers for Christmas Dinner. I’m a meticulous present wrapper and each gift I slid under the tree for my husband was always perfect.
Molly nudges her head against my knee and I scratch her ear, laughing when she immediately flops to the ground. Her little paw reaches up to play with the edge of my drawing book, tail flicking lazily as the fireplace cracks next to us.
This morning, Noah’s mom has personally brought me this gift, a beautiful watercolor set in a tin case.
“He told me you wanted to practice,” she’d said simply as my heart squeezed in my chest. I hope the hug I gave her conveyed what I’ve been too choked up to find the words for.
My mom has never really thought much about my interests, and never gifted me anything that wasn’t intended to make me look nicer. I’m not even sure I can remember the last time we hugged. It just wasn’t the kind of relationship that allowed for it.
Noah has heard me when I said the watercolor painting that hung in the hallway was my favorite. His mom must have asked what I’d like as a gift, and he remembered.
This is what family feels like. Here, in a house where I have nothing to offer anyone, I’m still worth something. There’s no transaction—in fact, I have basically nothing to give—and yet, they still want me here.
“Come back, Emma.” Noah’s low voice cuts through my musings and I blink up at him.
It’s early and we woke up to the first heavy snow of the year.
His hair is mussed and he sets his cigarettes and a cup of coffee on the hearth, then lies down across the blanket I’ve thrown in front of the fire-warmed bricks.
Stretching out with his hands behind his head, I fixate a little too long on the curves of his bicep.
“It looks good,” he says, studying the start of my landscape. “You’re a natural.”
I smile and bite my lip, brushing a trail of pink down his nose, laughing softly because he lets me. “Thank you, but I need a lot of practice.”
He rolls onto his back, eyes closing comfortably. “I’ll be your canvas next time, that felt nice.”
I dip my paint in the green and paint a lazy Christmas tree on his abs. “I’ll take you up on that.”
There’s a stretch of silence as the wood crackles, bathing the dark room in a warm, red haze. I add birds to the little scene I’m making on his skin, and Molly purrs happily as she stretches out on the hearth.
“I’ve been thinking.”
I startle, thinking he’d fallen back to sleep, when he puts a hand on my knee, eyes still closed.
He swallows and I watch as he pauses, deciding whether or not to continue his thoughts out loud.
Leaning back on my hand, I trail the line of his tattooed arm with my brush, the faint white of my paint muting the black lines of his artwork.
He is so beautiful at peace here, with me.
If I can forget the chaos surrounding us, this is what I would choose for the future.
And this Noah, the one who comes to me, lies next to me, allowing himself to lower his walls for just a small time.
I try to shove as much care as I can inside him before he has to raise them back up.
“Maybe…things could be different. Soon. Once we finish what we are doing with Eric and Bundy.” His light eyes open, pinning me down. “What if there was a chance that after this we could choose something different?”
I bite my lip, tipping the brush into the glass of water. “What do you mean by different?”
He takes a deep breath, exhaling it to the ceiling. “Maybe without Mercy. What if it was just us? Would you want that?”
Tilting my head, I don’t acknowledge the shake in his voice. I’ve never heard Noah sound anything less than completely self-assured. Overconfident, even. But he’s not right now.
“Noah, you don’t need to leave Mercy. I know this organization means everything to you. To your entire family.”
His eyes blink open and he rolls his head to the side to meet my concerned gaze. The reflection of the fire on his skin is a tough distraction to ignore, but I don’t know where he’s going with this.
“No, I don’t need to. But what I could never do is ask you to stay with me when this is all over, knowing my job will keep us in danger. I’m not Eric. You deserve more than this.”
My throat clenches. I want to say something, anything that would take this somber look from his eyes, but I can’t. I’m simply shaking my head, but his hand reaches out for mine, holding it to his mouth to kiss my palm.
“Yeah, baby. You do. I love helping these victims, but I can trust that passing my place to Jesse would mean they are still taking care of. And then we could do anything we wanted. We could do anything, Em.”
No. I want to tell him that I would never be the reason he gives up something he loves so dearly, but the tracing of the lines on my hand with his lips is fighting with my concentration.
There’s a little image of the little cottage I always dreamed of as a little girl, but instead of the fields I used to picture it on, there’s woods nearby.
Thick woods. Because Noah still is who he is, no matter where we go.
And that clingy darkness that comes along with him is part of why I love him so much.
We could take our own dreams and trim them down, glue them back together. The final project would look a little different, but a collage of our lives could be beautiful.
It could look like anything. School. Passion. His family becoming mine as well.
Kids.
I’m shaking my head through the entire winding thought.
I see it in his face, the question that I’m not seeing the future he’s offering me. Or maybe that I see it, and I don’t want it. I hate the flicker of doubt that it causes.
My mouth twists, but I scoot up to his side, pressing against his fire-warmed skin, laying my head on his arm. Unable to resist, I rest my hand on his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. “Noah, I would choose this. To be here with you. We don’t need to leave here as long as you want to stay.”
There’s no movement from him, and I watch the shadows on the wall as the first rays of sunshine break through the trees and start to illuminate the room. My attempt at decorating for Christmas almost comical with the mismatched ribbons and garlands provided by Landon’s terrible eye for decor.
“You should have your freedom first, Em. This is just another dollhouse right now, and you’re still locked in.
But I’ll change that.” He rolls to his side and my breath halts at the way he looks down at me, gripping my chin to make sure I'm listening. The start of a smirk draws at the corner of his mouth, and it’s a relief to see.
The doubt is gone and he knows I want him.
“I’ll be the first person in your life to show you what being free feels like.
And if you ever get tired of that, I’ll bring you right back here so I can tie you up for good, my sweet little captive. ”
I laugh, taking his head in my hands and kissing the uncertainty away. Everything could change at any moment, but this is what freedom feels like now. Choosing to be with him, despite the chaos. Choosing not to run away from the man who uses his own darkness to fight the evil in our world.
“Freedom goes both ways, Noah. If you need a break from this, we can take it. But I know you and I know we’ll be back,” I say, my lips peppering butterfly kisses along the sharp line of his jaw.
Maybe a year would be good. Time for us to experience life on our own terms. He could never truly leave Mercy, though, and we both know it.
And I’m surprised to find that thought doesn't scare me at all. Instead I just feel giddy with the idea all we have ahead of us is a blank future, ready to be painted however we like.
Pushing him to his back, I slide on top, getting caught in the delicate heat of the moment as I straddle his hips. I don’t usually find myself in this position with Noah, and for a moment I’m unsure.
But his large hands fall to my hips, rolling them across his erection.
“I want to see you take control, Em.” His voice is low, husky.
It sends shivers across my skin, and inspiration straight to that low pulsing place inside me.
His boyish smile tilts his mouth, and my thighs clench in response. “Use me the same way I love using you.”
Lifting my chin, I pull out every scrap of confidence I’ve gained since meeting this man and do as he asks.
He wants me.
We’re really doing this.
I race headlong into the blaze we set together because I’m in control, and the view from up here is intoxicating.