Chapter 10 #2
They fell quiet again, and the only sounds were the scrape of sandpaper, the low hum of the heater, and the occasional thunk of wood.
Eli straightened and winced. Noah noticed, of course.
“Time for a break. Want some water?”
“Please,” Eli said.
Noah grabbed two bottles from a crate by the wall and tossed one. Eli caught it one-handed.
“Nice reflexes.”
“I played exactly one season of JV basketball,” Eli told him. “I was terrible. But I did learn how not to get hit in the face.”
“A valuable life skill.”
They drank in companionable silence, perched on stools by the workbench. The heater clicked and hummed. Outside, the snow had thickened, turning the world beyond the window into a white blur.
“It’s getting bad out there,” Eli said quietly.
“Yeah. The storm came in quicker than they said it would.”
Eli glanced at him. “Does that worry you?”
He grinned. “Nah, we’re Mainers. We’re built for this.”
“Speak for yourself,” Eli said. “I’m a Bostonian now. I panic when the T is five minutes late.”
Noah laughed, then sobered. “Look. if it gets too bad, you can crash on my couch.”
Eli choked. “What?”
“Instead of driving back in a whiteout,” Noah said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “My place is ten minutes from here. No point risking it if the roads are awful.”
“Oh,” Eli said. “Right. That makes sense.”
His imagination, which needed to stop all unsupervised activity with immediate effect, supplied an image of him on Noah’s couch, wrapped in a huge blanket, the house smelling like sawdust and cocoa.
Eli did not need that.
“It might not get that bad,” Noah added quickly. “But the option’s there.”
“Okay, but I managed to walk here, so getting back shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Thanks, though.”
Their eyes met for a heartbeat.
Then, as if remembering he was supposed to be Normal and Fine, Noah clapped his hands. “Ready for paint?”
“Are we qualified for that?” Eli asked.
“No, but the committee is busy, so we’ll wing it.”
An hour later, the market stall front had a base coat of cream-colored paint and the archway frame was halfway to looking like something out of a storybook. They worked side by side, their sleeves pushed up, their brushes moving in steady strokes.
“You’re good at this.” Eli watched Noah outline the curve of the faux window.
Noah shrugged. “It’s just wood and paint. You’re the artist.”
“You’re building the canvas.”
“Then it’s teamwork,” Noah replied, glancing over with a little smile.
Heat flickered in Eli’s chest again, and he tried to tamp it down with sarcasm. “Don’t get sentimental. I’m only here for the free cocoa.”
“Lies,” Noah said. “You’re here for my winning personality.”
“And the manual labor,” Eli said.
“That too.”
Time slipped strangely in the workshop. One song on the radio blurred into the next, and their conversation drifted from favorite movies to best local diners to the pros and cons of small-town gossip.
“You ever miss being anonymous?” Eli asked, carefully filling in a line of shadow.
“Sometimes.” Noah smiled. “There are no secrets in Mapleford. Everyone knows everything. Or at least they think they do.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It can be,” Noah admitted. “Especially when things… fall apart.”
Eli glanced up. “Like what?”
Noah’s brush paused, and for a moment, Eli thought he’d deflect. He half-expected a joke or a dodge. Instead, Noah lowered the brush and stared at the wood grain.
“Like when your boyfriend leaves you,” he said quietly. “And the whole town watches him drive away.”
The heater hummed. Snow whispered against the windows. The world shrank to the space around Noah’s words.
Eli set his brush down. “You don’t have to—”
“It’s okay,” Noah said. “I mean, it’s not, but…
it was a long time ago. So long that now it feels as if it was a different life.
” He leaned back against the workbench, wiping his hands on a rag.
“We were together forever.” He bit his lips.
“Or maybe it just felt like forever. High school sweethearts. College. Then we came back here. Everyone called us the golden couple.” His mouth twisted. “I hated that phrase.”
“Too much pressure?” Eli asked, his voice soft.
“Exactly. At first it was nice, but then it felt as if I was playing a role. We both were.”
“What happened?” Eli asked.
Noah’s jaw tightened. “He wanted more. More city, more career, more… everything. He said I ‘thought too small,’” he air-quoted. “That being happy here meant I lacked ambition.”
Something sharp flared in Eli’s chest, a rush of indignation on Noah’s behalf. “That’s bullshit.”
“Yeah, I know. But at the time, it felt true. He left, took a job in Boston, and everyone pretended not to be shocked even though they absolutely were.”
“And you stayed.”
Noah sighed. “I stayed. I love this town. I love this work. I love making things with my hands instead of my email.” He stared at his paint-splattered fingers.
“But after he left, every time I walked down Main Street it felt as though I could hear what people were thinking. There goes the one who got left behind.”
Eli’s chest ached.
“People are nosy,” Noah continued. “But they’re not cruel, not really. They pretended not to see. They gave me space. Still… it’s hard to feel like a whole person when everyone’s looking at you like your life is a story.”
“And now?”
“Now I coordinate their festivals and build their tables. I keep smiling and cracking jokes and making sure the lights all turn on at the right time.” He laughed, the sound low and unobtrusive. “I make things glow so no one notices what’s dim.”
Eli’s throat tightened. “That’s… a lot.”
“It’s fine,” Noah said quickly. “Okay, it’s mostly fine.
It’s better now. It’s just—the holidays make it loud again.
” He looked up, his eyes a little too bright.
“And then I saw you in Home Depot, and I thought, wow, that guy looks like he’d be nice to hold hands with, and my brain said, you know what would be a great idea? Lie.”
Eli huffed out a surprised laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” That ache still resided in his chest, however.
“I know,” Noah said. “You were very kind about it.”
“You were panicking. And your lying face needs work.”
“It does,” Noah agreed.
“I didn’t mind,” Eli murmured.
Noah’s gaze flicked to him, soft and searching. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Silence settled between them, warm and definitely not awkward.
And there was the moment where Eli could say it.
I remember you from high school.
I drew you for months.
You were my first crush, and you didn’t even know I existed.
He swallowed the words instead, then cleared his throat.
“For what it’s worth, leaving doesn’t automatically mean bigger. Sometimes it just means louder.”
Noah’s brow furrowed.
“I left, remember?” Eli reminded him. “I went to Boston, did the city thing, hustled, networked…” His mouth twisted. “Then I watched my job get devoured by software, lost my boyfriend to ‘more,’ and ended up back here wondering if the problem is just me.”
“It’s not you,” Noah said with a conviction that made Eli’s chest hurt. “People are allowed to want different things. That doesn’t make you small.”
“You don’t even know me,” Eli protested.
“I know enough.”
He said it with that same steady sincerity he’d used on the ladder, and Eli believed him, which was both comforting and terrifying.
Snow continued to blur the world beyond the windows, and the workshop felt like its own little universe comprising light and wood and the quiet truth of people finally saying real things.
“Looks like it’s really coming down,” Eli said, needing to break the intensity.
Noah glanced toward the window. “Yeah. The roads are probably lousy.”
“Should I head out?” Eli asked. “Before it gets worse?”
Noah hesitated. “Honestly? If you want to play it safe… you might want to stay.”
Eli’s heart did a weird little leap. “In the workshop?” he asked.
“I live five minutes from here,” Noah said.
His lips twitched. “It was ten minutes the first time you mentioned it.”
“So we’ll walk fast. But it really is a short walk. I’ve got a couch. Extra blankets. A chronic overstock of hot chocolate.”
Eli swallowed. “You’re inviting me to your house.”
“You can say no,” Noah said quickly. “I just—I don’t love the idea of you walking back in this.” He met Eli’s gaze, and there was nothing pushy there, no expectation, just concern. Care. An offer.
“I’m not trying anything,” Noah added, his cheeks flushing. “I mean, not unless—I just mean... Safety first. And cocoa.”
Eli’s brain supplied what Noah’s lips didn’t say.
I told you my ex left and I lived in a fishbowl of gossip. I’m not going to risk becoming that story again with someone who doesn’t want it.
His chest hurt. “I…” He thought of Aileen. The guest room and the quilt and the quiet of her house. The sketchbook in his duffel. That old drawing. The boy in the bleachers.
Then he thought of Noah walking home alone in the snow.
“I probably should get back,” Eli said with reluctance. “I promised my sister I’d help with a morning delivery tomorrow. And she worries.”
“Of course,” Noah said with a nod. “That’s fair. She would murder me if anything happened to you.”
“Exactly.” He chuckled. “You’d be building your own coffin.”
“Wow. That’s dark.”
“No, it’s festive,” Eli corrected.
Noah’s smile came back, small but real. “Let me at least walk you halfway.”
The world outside was white. Snowflakes blurred the streetlights, swirling in tiny tornadoes at the corners of buildings. Eli pulled on his coat and stepped out into the cold. It slapped his cheeks, sharp and clean.
Noah locked the workshop and joined him, falling into step so close their arms almost brushed.
“Watch that patch,” Noah said, pointing to a slick spot on the sidewalk.
“Yes, Mom.”
They walked in silence for a block, their boots crunching in the snow. The town was muffled and quiet, as if someone had thrown a blanket over it.
“So,” Noah said, his breath steaming the air as they came to a halt, “thanks for helping tonight.”
“Thanks for the free therapy,” Eli said.
“I guess that means we’re even. Get Aileen to text me, so I know you got home safe. Better yet, get her to give you my number, and you can text me yourself.”
Eli couldn’t resist smiling. “Wow. That was subtle.”
Noah laughed. “Damn, you noticed.”
“Good night, Noah.”
They stood there, suspended, neither stepping closer nor farther away, and for a single, impossible second, Eli thought Noah might lean in, closing the gap between them. But then a snowplow rumbled by, scattering slush and noise, and the spell broke.
Noah stepped back. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Eli said. “Tomorrow.” He strode off before he could say anything else, but after he’d gotten maybe ten feet away, he turned.
Noah was still standing there in the snow, hands in his pockets, watching him go.
Eli’s chest felt too tight and too full at the same time.
He walked carefully through the white-blanketed streets, Noah’s words echoing in his mind.
I make things glow so no one notices what’s dim.
When he reached Aileen’s house, he went inside and stood there for a minute, the world quiet around him.
In his duffel upstairs, an old sketchbook waited.
Down the road, in a workshop that smelled like sawdust and cocoa, the boy he’d drawn was still awake, cleaning brushes, or humming along to the radio.
I know enough, Noah had said.
Eli closed his eyes.
“Just for the season,” he whispered.
But the truth was already bigger than that.
He just wasn’t ready to say it out loud.