Chapter 28
NOAH
I flinch at the sound of something dragging through my brain. Screeching. Piercing. It hurts. I try to open my eyes, but they won’t budge. Still closed. Useless.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A hospital. I’m in a hospital. Now, if I could just open my damn eyes, I’d know who’s in here. But my eyelids feel like bricks—probably from the sedative. I vaguely remember the doctor saying it would help me calm down. I’d needed it. It worked. But now I need to wake up.
Wait. Who’s he talking to?
Putain.
Focus, Noah. Focus.
Ugh—that dragging sound again. Like metal scraping across my skull.
“Oooo…” I manage to push out a moan. Not the sound I was aiming for, but I’ll take it.
Something clicks. Scenes flicker behind my eyes like a busted movie reel—Alex, my bedroom, fingers gliding over my leg… over my tattoo. Rain. So much rain. My tears. I think he can see them.
God, I want him to touch me. Just so I know this is real. I need him to.
And then… he does.
Everywhere.
Panic surges, tearing through my memory. My heart slams against my ribs. The monitor spikes—beeping faster, louder.
America. Gabriel. Alex.
America.
Gabriel.
Alex.
Oh god—my sister! I need to talk to my sister.
Damn it, Noah! Open your eyes!
I gasp for air, trying to steady my breathing, but choke instead. Panic claws at my chest. My legs thrash beneath the sheets. Sweat beads across my hairline. My fingernails bite into the mattress, knuckles locking tight.
I’m suffocating.
And then… warmth.
A hand closes around my clenched fist. Long fingers ease between mine, coaxing them open. Lips brush my ear. Someone smooths damp hair from my forehead.
I inhale.
Then again—deeper this time.
It’s him. I don’t question it. I lean into the certainty, into the presence that seems to fill the room.
“Shh…” His breath is warm against my ear, and I begin to calm, clinging to the sound.
“Shh…” again, closer now.
“Alex,” I whisper, surprised by the rasp in my voice. I say it again, just to be sure it’s real.
It is.
His fingers ghost over my lips, slow and weightless, tracing the curve of my Cupid’s bow.
My breath catches.
The touch is so light, it almost doesn’t feel real—like a whisper made of skin.
I struggle to open my eyes, lids fluttering against their own weight.
“I’m here, angel,” he murmurs. His thumb sweeps gently across my cheek, and I turn my face toward the sound of his voice.
“Alex…”
My heart slows from a trot to a walk, and then finally a leisurely stroll. I sigh, a low sound escaping me. My legs relax, heels sliding back down to the foot of the bed. He’s here. I squeeze his hand—just enough to say I hear him. That he’s calming me. That he’s exactly what I need.
I try to speak again, but the words tangle. Too many feelings, too fast, crowd my lips and spill out as noise.
“Try again, angel,” he whispers, patient, still stroking my cheek.
It’s the same voice I’ve heard in my dreams since I was five—except now I’m not dreaming. And I’m no longer five.
A sudden pop makes me flinch, but then his fingers return, pressing something cool to my lips. Lip balm, I think. He spreads it gently across the cracked skin. I pucker for more, humming softly as they grow dewy and pliant beneath his touch.
Then I press them together, and his finger slips between. Just for a moment. Just long enough to taste him.
It's exactly what I needed. My eyes flutter open, and there he is—my brother. His handsome face so close that our noses nearly touch.
I try speaking again. “Don’t. Tell. Gabriel,” I whisper, the words hushed and a little garbled. But I think he understands.
His hand returns to my forehead, gently brushing aside stubborn strands of hair. His thumb moves in slow circles, soothing the tension from my brow. I hum, melting into the comfort of his touch. I’ve longed for this forever.
“Don’t tell him what, angel?” he asks softly, his hazel eyes locked onto mine.
I need to tell him everything, from beginning to end. About me. His parents. My sister. Him. He needs to be warned. But instead, I draw in a steady breath and let a small smile tug at my lips—hoping he can see it.
“Don’t tell him… that… I love you.”
And then my breath gives out. All I can do is hold his gaze… and watch him absorb my words.
ALEX
It has to be the meds. Why else would he say something so… impossible? He knows my heart belongs to Elijah. We’ve talked about this.
As I work to untangle the messy braid in his hair, a few strands slip free.
It must’ve looked beautiful when he first styled it.
Complicated. Purposeful. I hope Gabriel noticed the effort—this braid was anything but simple.
Meera used to braid her hair in a similar way.
It was fascinating to watch the dexterity in her fingers work through thick sections of hair with a quiet kind of magic.
Noah’s lips twitch as he tries for a smile, and I run my thumb along the corners of his mouth, softening the frown. His dark lashes flutter, fighting sleep—but the weight is too much. His lids lower slowly, like blankets being pulled over those pretty blue eyes.
“Noah,” I whisper, and his eyes flutter in response.
I reach down to take his hand, but startle when a throat clears behind me. I jump, quickly releasing my grip.
“Good afternoon, gentleman.”
A tall, middle-aged Black man in a white lab coat steps into the room. He holds a clipboard snuggly against his chest, his smile polite and easy.
“I’m Dr. Belize. You must be Alex?”
I rise to shake his hand. It’s warm—steady and reassuring.
“So,” he says, walking over to the IV pole and capping off the line. “I’m going to release Noah once the medication starts to wear off.” He checks his watch. “It shouldn’t be too much longer—maybe half an hour.”
I nod, not really sure what I should say. Or even why I’m still here. Should I ask him to get Gabriel?
“As you are aware, Noah sees a psychiatrist here at the hospital.”
Nope. Totally unaware.
He flips a page. Then another. His eyes skim the clipboard. “My staff tried contacting his sister, but no luck so far.” He looks up. “No surprise there.”
This time, I nod with a hum.
Fuck. Where is Gabriel?
He raises a brow and waits.
For what, I’m not sure. Was I supposed to say something?
I wipe my sweaty palms over my thighs. I vaguely remember Noah mentioning a sister—maybe?
I flex my fingers, trying to recall anything he said about his family.
I do remember him saying his mom lives in France.
Gave him the chocolate pie recipe. That was real.
Wasn’t it? Maybe his sister’s there too?
I take a shot. “She lives in France,” I mumble. Could be true. Could be total bullshit. I have no idea.
“Of course.” Dr. Belize nods, though there’s hesitation in his voice. He flips through the thick stack of papers again. “Noah still struggles with the death of his family, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Okay. What?
Didn’t he just say they were trying to contact his sister? And I’m positive Noah said his mom lives in France—she gave him the damn pie recipe. I know I’m not crazy. Oh, who the hell knows at this point? Maybe I’m the one who needs a psychiatrist.
I run my fingers through my hair. “They’re in France,” I mumble again, far less confident this time. Honestly, I don’t know if they’re dead or alive. I don’t know anything.
And why the hell am I still standing here pretending I do?
“Yes, of course,” the doctor mutters, scribbling something down.
Great. What is this guy smoking? Whatever it is, I need some.
“We gave Noah an injection of diazepam for his anxiety,” he continues.
Okay, perfect. Right up my alley. I’ll take some too… because my nerves certainly are tap-dancing on the edge of a breakdown.
He rubs his chin. “I’ll be sending him home with a low-dose anti-anxiety prescription, to take as needed. It should help if the panic returns.”
Fantastic. Still not sure why you’re telling me this.
I glance at the clock. Where the hell is Gabriel?
“Would you mind if I stepped out and grabbed his boyfriend?” I ask, keeping my voice polite, even though my patience is slipping. “He’s probably the one who should be hearing all this.”
Dr. Belize looks up from his clipboard—there’s that eyebrow again. “You mean Gabriel? He left with the other gentleman you came in with. He seemed very upset. Asked me to explain everything to you.”
Of course he did.
I shift my weight, stuffing my hands deep into my pockets, like I can bury my awkwardness right along with them.
“Sure.” I groan, resigned.
But before he can say anything else, a soft rustling comes from the bed.
Noah stirs beneath the sheets, knees shifting slightly, eyes fluttering open like he’s surfacing from underwater. He blinks against the light, glancing at the doctor—then at me.
“Alex?” he asks, blinking hard. “What are you doing here? Where’s Gabriel?”
His eyes are still cloudy with meds, but… yeah, that’s what I’d like to know too.
“One last thing,” Dr. Belize interrupts, closing the clipboard and shoving the pen into the pocket of his lab coat. “If Meera resurfaces, please let us know.”
I freeze, feeling the blood drain from my face.