Chapter 14
Is this where we get stuck? —Milo Warner
Noah
So, hi, good morning.
Noah
I can’t help but notice you’re not in the cabin this morning, and I was wondering if that means I should perhaps sink into my morning-after shame and leave Devon Falls forever?
Milo
CHUCKS. Don’t leave the cabin.
Milo
Sorry. I went out for a run. You didn’t get my text?
Noah
Um, no? But I did make French toast, three kinds of sausage, and two kinds of eggs while I debated whether or not to text you.
Milo
Well, I’m glad you didn’t go anywhere. Let’s invite the town over for breakfast, I guess. But we should probably talk first?
Noah
Talking might be good. Depending on exactly what you want to talk about.
Milo
World peace, I think. Always.
Noah
Ah, yes, an important topic.
Noah
Maybe we could also discuss the way I kind of threw myself at you last night.
Milo
Oh, Chucks, I hope you’re not beating yourself up over that. Because I was definitely up for playing catch.
Noah
Well, I wasn’t beating myself up. Not really. Not until I woke up and you and Bear were both gone. And then I realized that she’s not even my dog, officially, and also not yours, so then I was very confused as to whether perhaps you took my dog who is not my dog and ran away with her.
Milo
I’m so sorry, Chucks. I blame the two feet of working signal space in our living room. I must not have been connected to Wi-Fi.
Noah
Awfully convenient excuse for a man who’s about to eat three kinds of sausage for breakfast.
Milo
I’ll be back in like twenty minutes, I promise. With the dog that doesn’t belong to either of us. We’ll talk.
Noah
…
Noah
…
Noah
Okay, I guess. And then we should probably see if Gabe wants something to eat.
“Wow. You really weren’t kidding about all that food.” I step back into the cabin, Bear at my heels, and immediately see a kitchen island covered in plates and dishware. Noah’s in the middle of the living room, upside down in what I think is the downward dog position.
He pops back up when he hears my voice. “Milo.” His face is flushed, his voice light, and every single damn part of me wants to rush across the room and see if his lips feel just as perfect against mine as they did last night.
But I do have some level of willpower, and Noah and I absolutely need to talk before Alpha Milo starts taking over this breakfast scene.
So I toe off my sneakers while Bear trots across the room to request pets from Noah. “I’ll take a very fast shower,” I tell him. “And then we can eat some of that delicious spread you made while we have a conversation.”
Noah can’t seem to look directly at me as he nods and starts walking across the room, Bear at his side. “I’ll warm some things up.”
“Hey.” I pause him when he moves past me, and I place a hand on his cheek. “Look at me,” I whisper.
It takes some time, but eventually he slides his gaze upward and manages to meet my eyes.
“You’re safe here,” I tell him, as clearly and firmly as I can, because he needs to know right now that I’m never going to let anything bad happen to him. Not in this cabin, not on my watch. “We’ll figure all of this out together. Everything’s going to be okay, Noah.”
It takes a few seconds, but it isn’t long before the corner of his lips quirk up in a smile. “Always such an alpha,” he murmurs.
I laugh as I let go of his cheek and head toward the shower.
I meant every word I just said: there’s no way I’m going to let Noah leave this conversation feeling harmed in any way.
But how are we going to move forward after last night?
I just spent a three-mile run trying to imagine possible responses to that question, and I don’t have any answers yet.
Unfortunately, I don’t have any magical moments of inspiration in the shower either.
But when I jog back down from the loft, skin still slightly damp and stomach growling, I see Noah setting out plates with sausage, French toast, and eggs galore, and I realize something: I already know the answer to how I want to move forward here.
Noah’s the first person in a long time who I’ve connected with this deeply on any kind of emotional and physical level.
He sees me, all of me. I see him. All of him.
I want more of what we started last night.
I want more breakfasts together, just like the one we’re about to have.
I want more conversation, more exploration, and I want to stop desperately trying to ignore the live wire of electricity that exists between us.
But is that what’s right for Noah? Is that what he wants?
And how would we logistically even try to do something like date, given our parents’ profiles?
Those are questions I can’t answer yet. So I take a seat at the island and grab for the plate Noah hands me, and for some time we both just eat in silence.
“Chucks,” I finally tell him. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you’re spoiling me.”
He sends me a light grin and drops a piece of sausage for Bear, who tears into it. “Happy to do it, Alpha.” He adds a teasing note to the end of the sentence, and I laugh as I push my half-empty plate forward.
“Okay, first rule of this conversation,” I tell him. “You can’t call me that. It turns me on a little too much. I stop thinking straight, honestly.”
Noah smirks. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Excellent. Now, what’s a rule you want?”
Noah pushes his own plate away and pets Bear for a moment before he answers. “I want us both to tell the truth to each other. No matter what,” he adds. “No matter how hard it is.”
“I like that rule. Okay. I can start, if that works for you.” Noah nods, and I lean forward, hands on my knees.
I pledge to do my best to leave my heart on the line here.
Because that’s what Noah deserves. “I like you a hell of a lot, Noah Hardaway. I have for quite some time. I like the connection I feel when we’re together.
I liked what happened between us last night.
” Noah blushes slightly and smiles. “I liked it a hell of a lot,” I add.
I take a deep breath, because this is the hard part. This is where I have to tread carefully and make sure I hold to both my promise to tell the truth and my promise to keep Noah safe. There’s a bit of a complex needle to thread in between those two.
“But,” I go on. “I also know how much older I am than you. I’m closer to forty than thirty, and I’ve never managed to hold onto a serious relationship.
I know I’ve got personality in me that you think matches with what you’re looking for, but I’ve seen the way Ezra Morehouse acts around you, and I never want to be another person in your life who tries to control you in some way. ”
I clear my throat. I don’t want to say the next part, not one bit, but I have to.
“And I also know that our parents, however much they like each other, might be staring across debate stages at each other soon. And I wouldn’t ever want to be the person who puts you in the center of a public conflict like that.
” I shake my head. “You’ve had too much shitty publicity in your life, Noah.
You deserve so much better than that now. ”
I realize I’m looking down at my knees and not at Noah when he says, “Hey, Milo? Look at me?”
I glance up. He’s got a half-smile on his face, and he reaches out to lay his hands over mine.
“Everything you just said,” he tells me.
“Everything you just said is exactly why I don’t think I can walk away from what happened last night.
I know you think you’re too old for me.” He shakes his head.
“I don’t think that, but I know you do, and I appreciate that you care enough to worry about it.
And Milo,” he goes on. “You could never, ever be like Ezra. You see me in a way people like Ezra… well, people like him don’t see me at all. Not really.”
“Still wish you’d tell your uncle more about how he treats you,” I mutter.
Noah laughs. “See what I mean? You say things like that, and I know our personalities are lined up in all the right ways.” His smile slips slightly. “The thing about our parents… yeah. If Uncle Stan does decide to run, us dating would probably be… well, I know Ezra would say it’s a terrible idea.”
I snort. “Fuck that asshole. But even my ma would say there’s some conflicts of interest there. And your dad would probably say the same.”
The cabin sinks back into silence, and I wonder: is this where we get stuck?
Is this where we lose all hope of moving forward?
Maybe the two of us are both destined to be held hostage in our parents’ spotlight, no matter how hard we try to run from it.
And shit, I hate the idea of even saying those words out loud to Noah.
“What if,” Noah says slowly, “we just don’t worry about the primary race right now?”
Bear yips as she drops a toy at my feet, and I throw it across the room for her without looking away from Noah. “What are you thinking we should do?” I ask him.
“Well.” He shrugs. “We’re both hiding out here in Devon Falls right now.
No one in the media knows where we are or cares.
We don’t even know if my dad is going to run, and you’re not scheduled to go back to New York until after the festival.
” He tilts his head. “So what if we just let ourselves try this out? I think it’s been a long time,” he says, “since either one of us got to make a choice entirely for ourselves that didn’t factor in anything having to do with our parents’ careers.
What if we make this choice just for us?
There’s about six weeks until the festival, right?
Or just a little less time than that before my dad makes up his mind.
But we can take that time together. We can see what happens, maybe? ”
I should say no. I should absolutely, one hundred percent, say no.
Because I can only see the two of us getting closer and closer if we keep leaning into this, and if his father does announce his candidacy, then any kind of relationship between the two of us could blow up awfully quickly.
And even if Stan doesn’t run, I still worry about how much older I am than Noah.
I worry about whether a relationship between us would really be right for him.
Noah deserves the world. And I’m just a washed-up orthopedist who ran away from home in his late thirties because his career tanked and all his partners kept walking away from him.
I should absolutely, definitely, say no.
But that’s not what happens.
Instead, I stand up from my seat, and Noah follows. I don’t even bother to second-guess myself as I lean down, grasp his face in my hands, and move forward to let my lips meet his.
I fall into the moment, into the sensation of his mouth moving against mine as I pull his body closer and closer toward me. We’re only millimeters apart when we finally separate, and Noah laughs slightly.
“Should I take that as a yes?” he asks.
I let my forehead rest against his. “What can I say, Chucks,” I tell him. “I just can’t say no to you.”