Chapter 24 Noah
Noah
What the hell happened? I lay breathless, arms cradling a sleeping Lily, as I work to make sense of the last two hours.
This wasn’t my plan when I brought her to my cabin, and I’m scared she thinks this was my intention. When I saw her cut, something I caused, all I wanted to do was fix it. This thing between us has been brewing since we met, and I’d be a lying fool if I said I wasn’t on cloud nine right now.
My eyes caress over the soft expression of her face, lashes long and lightly fluttering across her upper cheeks as she sleeps. I meant what I said—I love her. It wasn’t something just said in the moment, and the fact she said it back—this is real.
She trusted me—is trusting me. Part of me is terrified she’ll wake up and assume this was a mistake.
I want to do this with her every day.
The cabin air is cold against my bare chest, and I decide to slide out to check on Max and get a glass of water. I pull the cover up and over Lily, thrilled when she nuzzles the spot my body was.
Bending down, I pick up her clothes that are flung around the bedroom floor, and as I bring her pants up, a piece of paper falls out. Not thinking much of it, assuming it’s a tag or perhaps a random guest check from work, I pick it up.
It’s damp, and glancing at her, I unfold it, careful not to rip the page.
The writing I recognize as Lily’s, even though many of the words in ink have bled.
I can make out some of the poem, talking about the abuse she endured, but at the bottom of the page, written diagonally to her neatly spaced letters, are the words Miss me?
What? The handwriting is different. Why was this in her pants?
And better yet, “Miss me?” Miss this type of abuse? Did this man write this? Bran?
I wrestle between waking her up and also ignoring it all together.
After sliding on a pair of gray sweatpants, I pocket the poem and move out of the bedroom, gently cracking the door.
Max gnaws at his bone, and he side-eyes me as I make way to the kitchen and open the fridge.
There isn’t much. I’m never here, and ever since Lily started staying with my mom, I’ve spent even more time over there.
I reach for a bottle of water, grabbing an extra to put on the nightstand beside the bed for Lily when she wakes.
Out the window, dusk settles through the trees—we’ve slept right through lunch. I hadn’t thought through the time today, but I’d planned to grab some food after our hike.
I’m doing this all wrong. I have no idea how to be in a relationship.
All I know is that I want forever with Lily, and I’m hoping that doesn’t scare her away.
Hell, it’s scary how deeply I feel for her after such a short amount of time.
For now, I want to love her, enjoy time with her—give her time to thrive and lay down roots in Pinebrook if she chooses.
I still at that.
What would I do if she didn’t want to stay?
Could I let her go? Could I actually stay here knowing the woman who’s captured my attention so fully, so recklessly isn’t?
It would be agonizing to see her leave and tormenting to leave my mother to follow her.
I’m not sure I could. Plus, my mom would slap me upside the head for even considering losing Lily.
She loves it here, though. She’s told me multiple times over the past weeks that Yosemite is one of her favorites. There may be hope after all.
Max whines and circles around his empty food bowl.
Like clockwork.
Back at the fridge, I pull out the homemade dog food and fill his bowl. While he eats, I grab my phone off the counter and return to the bedroom with the water for Lily.
She’s dead asleep still, the cotton sheet now twisted and wrinkled, pooled down around her waist. The top half of her smooth bare body is exposed to me, and I stand there too long, replaying her atop me.
She had let go, and her enjoyment—the pleasure on her face—it was like seeing all of Lily for the first time.
The sheets rustle down by her feet as she stretches out and the movement prompts me to move, sliding into the open spot next to her. I lean against the headboard and smile when she seeks out my body heat.
Phone in hand, I turn it over, noting the text message from Brent. When I open it, my smile dies.
Brent
Raven wants an answer. Come on, man, don’t make this difficult.
Raven? Well, I guess the tattoos make sense now. It’s like he’s personally branded those he uses, including Brent.
Lily lets out a sigh, and I glance at her, then back to the phone before I’m drawn to her again.
I don’t want to be involved, and I sure as hell will not be used by this dealer to smuggle his drugs. How could I face Lily? How could I be the man she deserves and needs if I use the very place she comes to escape to move drugs, solely for the selfish reason of protecting my name.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the headboard, remembering her face as it transformed when she saw the hidden waterfall.
Her eyes were wide and shining, lips parted with an unfiltered smile, radiant in every way.
She looked at it with reverence, and I cherish that moment when nothing else mattered.
The glow in her expression, the happiness, rivals any of the places in this park.
It’s not the most breathtaking view in Yosemite, far from it, but the idea that this unmarked path leads to such an unvisited site—it’s impossible not to feel the hum in the air.
I can only imagine learning what I’ve allowed this Raven to do would tear that look right off her face. She’d hate me, and I’d hate myself.
I reach in my pocket and rustle the damp paper I tucked in there. I need to be here for her and my mom. If I’m caught, I can’t be. If things go wrong, I won’t be.
I follow that thought and text Brent back.
I can’t.
His reply is instant.
Brent
Wrong move.