Chapter 8
I’m just not wired to have what people like Gabe and Sam and Jack have. —Milo Warner
“I can’t believe Gabe convinced me to be on camera for this.” I shake my head and cross my arms again as Noah stands in front of me, shifting from one Converse sneaker to the other, his phone out in front of him. “You sure you don’t want to be the face of this video, Chucks?”
Noah’s face instantly loses all its color. I’m ready to jet across the room and save him from some kind of fainting episode when he clears his throat and shakes his head. “Uh, no! Please, no? I’d really rather not,” he says in a rush.
I put my hands up fast, demonstrating surrender. “Chucks, I was kidding. And hey, quick reminder: no one here at the center is ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, okay? Not Gabe, and definitely not me.”
Noah’s shoulders relax back down slightly, and he sends me a small smile that immediately hits that spot I do my best to keep tamped down. The spot that screams protect him. Keep him from harm. Care for him.
The spot Brad shit all over, basically.
“Thanks, Milo,” Noah says softly. He shakes his head.
“Listen, I think making a video of the center to launch our social media accounts is a great idea. I’m just not very good at, um, being on camera?
Or out in public in any way, actually.” He closes his eyes and winces.
“Yeah. Not my thing. But are you sure you don’t mind being the face of the center in the video? ”
“I definitely don’t,” I assure him. “If I did, I would have made sure Gabe was doing this.” Unfortunately, our fearless leader is down in Montpelier today, trying to figure out why another grant application that should have been a sure thing keeps getting denied.
“So. Let’s get this video tour on the road!
” I rub my hands together, and Noah laughs.
“Do you always get this excited about giving someone a tour of a ski lodge?”
“Community center, thank you,” I answer.
I hear that teasing note in Noah’s voice.
He must have picked up that Gabe and I get a little testy when people call this place a ski lodge.
That’s because we spent a hell of a lot of time turning it into something else.
Something new. I look up at the vaulted ceiling above us, then track my eyes to each corner of the wide, open room we’re standing in.
Sometimes I forget how much I’ve come to love this place.
Maybe that’s because I don’t want to think about how hard it’s going to be to walk away after the center finally opens.
“How long have you been in Devon Falls fixing this place up?” Noah asks me, like he can read my mind. Or maybe he’s just reading my face.
“Since about February, I think? Not that long before you first texted me. We’ve done a lot since then.
” I shrug off the question, which hits a little too close to thinking about the reasons I came here in the first place.
“Should we start filming, so I can talk more about what we’ve done for the camera? ”
“Perfect.” Noah holds up the selfie stick he’s using to keep the video quality decent while he follows me around. He’s clearly poised and ready to capture content. He may not like the spotlight, but it’s obvious he’s done social media stuff like this before with Stan. “Ready… set… action!”
Bear barks, and Noah and I look at each other before we both burst out laughing. “We’ll edit that out. Or maybe not,” Noah adds as he leans over to scritch her ears.
“Maybe not,” I agree. “That was pretty damn cute. Okay, let’s get started.
” I pull in a long breath and slap on the smile I’ve perfected over years of working in medicine, the same one I pull out when I’m in the political arena with Ma.
It’s the smile that says everything’s good, trust me, I got you.
Patients and constituents both just want to know they’re being taken care of.
“Welcome to the Devon Falls Community Center, formerly the Devon Falls Ski Area!” I tell the camera.
We’re next to the doors that open into the lodge, which hang heavy with the wood and steel they’re made from.
They are standing guard on the side of a mountain, after all.
“Today I’m going to show you everything we’ve done to turn this old ski lodge, originally built in nineteen fifty-two, into a place where people from across Devon Falls, the county, and the rest of the state can come to find community, services and supports, and recreation.
And look. We even kept the original lodge doors,” I tell the camera proudly.
Maybe I’m a little overly excited we were able to do that.
But in my defense, the original wood in this place is pretty damn gorgeous.
Noah follows me around, nodding appreciatively from behind his phone, as I show off all the work Gabe and I have done here over the past few months.
This ski area hasn’t been operational in years, and this part of the lodge, which was clearly designed to be a gathering place for large groups of people, sure as hell wasn’t anything like welcoming and shiny when Gabe and I got our hands on it.
But I’m happy to say that now it feels like a space you want to step into.
Large, bright windows, washed and clear, line two walls of the lodge, letting in sunshine that glints across the space.
The floors, walls, and ceilings are all the same sand-colored wood, giving the entire place the feel of an open log cabin.
Two large floor-to-ceiling columns on opposite sides of the room mimic the look of tree trunks, and a stone fireplace takes up most of the wall on the opposite side of the common room entrance.
“Cut,” Noah calls after I finish showing off the fireplace. “Let’s pick it up in the next room?” He starts to play the video back on his phone. “That was perfect, Milo. By the way, I really love all the work you and Gabe did in this space. It feels so homey. Like our cabin.”
My stomach twists a little at the way he says homey, and yeah, that’s probably because I know more than I should—more than anyone should—about Noah’s background.
I have some clue as to why a space feeling like home would mean so much to him.
I hate the way the media seized on Noah’s story when Stan got bigger in the New York political scene, and I’ve heard enough from Stan to know he hates it too.
But public-facing life comes with sacrifices, and in this case, Noah’s privacy has no doubt been a major sacrifice to Stan’s campaign.
No wonder he hates the spotlight.
We walk together past the two offices Gabe and I have been using and over to a large recreational area that already houses a pool table and two ping pong tables.
Next to it is a room that was once a bar, which is now well on its way to becoming an event space, three slightly smaller rooms that will soon turn into spaces for activities and clubs, and a room with some donated workout equipment strewn throughout it: our future gym.
“Let’s film this area next,” I tell him.
“And hey, listen, Chucks. I just wanted to tell you something, in case you’ve been worried.
People in Devon Falls aren’t all that tuned in to the news about local politicians from New York, and I’ll never share anything about your background that you don’t want me to share.
” Bear sidles up to my leg for pets, and I stroke the fur on her head as I keep my gaze locked on Noah.
“You’ve got privacy here, from everything that came before. If you want it.”
Noah stares at me for so long that at first I’m worried I’ve said something wrong. Then he purses his lips and blinks, and I realize there might be tears at the corner of his eyes. I resist the urge to rush across the floor and console him. Somehow.
“How can you even be real?” he finally says.
“How do you always seem to know exactly what to say, just when I need to hear it?” He shakes his head, and a lock of his hair falls across his forehead before he pushes it back.
“Man, how are you single? Don’t people line up at the door to have you look out for them?
” His cheeks turn pink as he realizes what he’s said, and now he looks mortified.
“Shit, I didn’t mean to say that. None of my business.
Let’s get back to filming,” he adds as he lifts the phone up again.
“Nah.” I wave at him, gesturing for him to put the phone down.
He drops it slowly. I shrug. “I know shit about you that I shouldn’t, so I may as well return the favor, right?
” I lean back against the wood-paneled wall behind me as I cross my arms. What I’m about to say out loud to Noah?
I’m not sure I’ve said it out loud to anyone else besides Mia.
But some shit really does eat at you the longer you hold it inside, and honestly, I’m tired of holding onto this truth about myself.
If Noah Hardaway could watch while New York media splashed the truth about his childhood all over the six o’clock news, I can fucking tell him the real reason I’m single.
Noah’s shuffling his feet again, looking unsure.
I don’t want to leave him feeling uncomfortable, so I dive right in.
“Here’s the thing,” I tell him. “I’ve had boyfriends, girlfriends, non-binary partners.
I’ve done the dating scene. But I’m the kind of guy who tends to get really invested in a partner.
I like to take care of the people I’m dating.
Be in charge, sometimes.” I shrug. “I never got into the BDSM scene, but I’ve been told I’d make a good Dom if I ever tried that out.
I’ve always just thought of myself as someone who likes to be the alpha in a relationship—like that whole alpha/beta/omega wolf thing, I guess.
I had one boyfriend who called me an alpha, anyway. ”
Noah’s eyebrows are raised now, but he doesn’t look disgusted. He’s not turning away or stepping backwards or grabbing Bear and dragging her out of the room, away from the control freak. So I keep going.
I sigh. “Unfortunately, that same boyfriend also called me suffocating. Over-the-top. A few other choice words I won’t say here.
He was the last guy I dated before I left New York, and he fit a pattern of failed relationships, you know?
” I shrug again. “I’m just not wired to have what people like Gabe and Sam and Jack have, I guess.
I’ve accepted that. I’ve moved on. So, should we film this next area? ”
Noah’s still staring at me, though, frowning slightly. Damn, maybe I did share more than I should have with him. This is exactly why I don’t talk about shit like this. I’m turning around, ready to step out and give Noah some space away from me, when he suddenly speaks up.
“Omega,” he says from across the room.
“Say what?” I turn around again.
Noah looks down at the floor and shakes his head.
“In that analogy you used? I think I like to be an omega, maybe. In relationships. I like to feel… protected. Taken care of.” He looks up at me again.
“I’ve only had a few girlfriends, but both of them thought that was weird.
The last one thought it was really weird.
She also thought it was weird how close I am with Stan.
The word co-dependent came up.” He coughs. “More than once.”
I take a few minutes to process that, but I can’t seem to come up with a coherent response. “Fuck,” I finally manage to say.
Noah sends me a full-on grin, and a second later, the two of us both burst out laughing at the exact same time.
Bear barks excitedly, running back and forth between the two of us, clearly certain we must be ready for playtime.
Noah ends up with his hands on his knees, the selfie stick still clutched firmly in one hand, before he speaks again.
“Too bad about our parents running against each other. Maybe in another political timeline you could have been the alpha to my omega.” His eyes widen again as the smile drops from his face.
“Shoot, I can’t even believe I said that! ”
“Hey, hey.” I wave off the comment with one hand.
“Listen, if we’re going to be the relationship-scarred singles hanging around all the couples here, we’ve got to be honest with each other, right?
Who knows,” I add softly. “Who knows what could have happened in another timeline.” I clear my throat, because that needs to be the end of this conversation.
Our parents are running for office, and Chucks is still half my age.
None of those facts change just because we’ve both learned that our relationship preferences happen to fit together like puzzle pieces.
“So,” I add. “Let’s get on with the tour.
We should get some shots of the space we plan to turn into more of a workout studio.
That’s where you’ll teach yoga and Pilates.
You have certifications to teach both, right?
” He nods. “Cool. I’m going to test out running a Zumba class or a dance class or two in that same space, by the way. ”
“You teach Zumba and dance?” Noah’s eyes widen.
“What?” I tease. “A social worker can teach yoga, but a doctor can’t teach Zumba?” I laugh as his face goes pink again. “I was into basketball and dance growing up. I trained mostly in tap and modern. A little hip-hop. The Zumba I got into for cardio.”
“Wow,” Noah whispers. “You’re good at everything, aren’t you?”
I turn away fast and clear my throat. “Not everything,” I murmur.
We crush the rest of that video. Gabe’s going to love it. And it’s not until hours later, when I’m lying in the loft bed above where Noah and Bear are sleeping, that something occurs to me.
I never even bothered to ask Noah if he’s into men. But I’m pretty damn sure he is.