Chapter 31
NOAH
Elijah’s personal driver rounds the car and opens the door. Instead of calling a car service, Alex had arranged for the chauffeur, and I’m quietly grateful he did. The plush leather seats in the Lincoln Town Car feel like heaven after the stiff hospital bed I just peeled myself out of.
Still groggy from the meds, I shuffle out of the car and lean into Alex for support.
He hesitates, clearly annoyed, muttering something under his breath, then relents and lets me depend on him.
I feel the tension in his arm and the raw edge of his jaw, but I try to ignore it, savoring his warmth despite the prickling edge of irritation.
His skin smells like fresh linen with a trace of coconut, and I breathe him in as we make our way toward the elevator.
“Have you tried calling Gabriel?” Alex asks, voice tight with annoyance. He’s clearly not thrilled about being here. Especially after the bombshell the doctor just dropped.
I tug at the collar of my sweatshirt, fighting the burn in my eyes. “Not yet,” I mutter through a yawn. I’m too drained to deal with anyone else right now. I just want to crawl back into bed.
He slides my keycard through the reader and punches in the digital code to my floor.
“Then maybe you’d like to take this opportunity and explain what’s going on,” he says, his tone harder now. “I’ve been more than patient.”
I lift my head from the warm crease of his neck, the comfort of him slipping away with the moment.
It’s time.
This isn’t how I wanted it to happen. Not like this. I wanted to hold on a little longer. To live in his light. To let him care for me the way he would have from the very beginning.
The way he would have if he’d only known.
I was his brother.
My stomach knots as I force myself to meet his eyes, even though part of me wants to look anywhere but at him.
“America is my sister,” I whisper, the words bitter on my tongue.
“Who?” he asks, blinking, clearly not recognizing the name. “Ameri-who?”
I take his hand gently, guiding him off the elevator and into the hallway, heart thudding so loud I can barely think.
“Meera.” I sigh. “Her real name is America. And she’s… my sister.”
He stops cold. Drops my hand like it’s on fire.
“What. The fuck. Are you talking about?”
I open my mouth to answer, but before I can, he shoves me—hard—slamming me back against the wall. My body hits it with a sickening thud, the force rattling through my bones. For a second, I just stand there, stunned, head ringing, anxiety crawling its way through my veins again.
I’m too weak to fight back. And even if I weren’t… I don’t think I would.
I love him too much.
“I can explain,” I whisper, the words trembling out of me as the pain pulses behind my eyes.
“First, let’s get something straight,” he hisses, his breath hot and sharp, a mist of spit hitting my cheek.
“I don’t give a fuck about Meera. She destroyed not one, but two fucking families, Noah.
Two. And if what you’re telling me is true, if she really is your sister, then I don’t give a fuck about you either. ”
With one final shove, he lets go of me, and I fall to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
In an instant, I’m not twenty-seven anymore. I’m five again—small, helpless, terrified.
“Alex,” I sob, clutching at the neckline of my shirt and stretching it toward my shoulder, as if exposing my pain might somehow make him stay. “Don’t leave me.”
Tears blur my vision, but I can still see the curve of his back as he turns away. He won’t even look at me.
And that—more than the shove, more than the words—is what finally breaks me.
I push aside my bangs and wipe my eyes with the back of my wrists. I’m trembling so much, I almost miss my face altogether.
“I can explain.” My voice wavers, small and broken. “And if you still want to leave, then I promise I’ll let you go. Just… please don’t leave me alone in the rain. I won’t survive the storm this time.”
I sniffle, wiping my nose with the heel of my hand as a hiccup jolts through my chest.
He pivots, looking down at my slumped form sprawled across the floor. I know what he sees—not a man, but a pitiful boy. And maybe… a part of me hopes he does.
Still that little boy, desperate to be in his brother’s arms. Desperate to be loved. To be saved.
A sob catches in my throat and shudders out of me before I can stop it. I try to wrestle my emotions back into silence, but they’re already gone—wild, loud, and merciless.
My whole body shakes as he bends down and gently pulls me upright, pressing my back against the wall. I don’t resist. I can’t.
Like a ragdoll, my head drops forward, landing in the warm hollow of his neck. And there—there, I let it all go.
I soak his shirt, his skin, as his hands tighten around my trembling shoulders.
I cry for the brother I was promised but never had.
I cry for every dream he lived inside—and every day I lived without him.
For the family who came for me… but never arrived.
For all the times I danced alone—except in my dreams, where he held me close and we danced until morning yawned and pried me from his arms.
But I never stopped dancing.
Never stopped hoping.
Never stopped believing that one day he would step out of my dreams—and into my life.
And now that he has, I refuse to let him go.
Gently, he takes my hands and wraps them around his waist, then draws his own arms around my back, holding me tight—so tight I can barely breathe.
But I don’t care.
If this is my last breath, I’ll gladly take it here, in his arms.
“Shh,” he coos, cupping the back of my head and pressing my face tighter into the crook of his neck, trapping my tears.
“That was just… a lot.” He sighs, taking the longest breath ever before pulling himself together again.
“Let’s get you inside and draw you a bath.
But then you’ve got some explaining to do. Alright?”
“O-Okay.” I hiccup, letting him guide me gently to my feet.
I shiver when he opens the door to my apartment. The air feels… different. Off. Like something’s shifted. Like something’s wrong.
“Where’s your tub?” he asks, voice still soft, but slightly more clipped. “Bedroom or hallway?”
I swallow. I haven’t even told him the worst of it yet.
“Bedroom,” I croak, squeezing his hand—needing to feel him there, solid, tethered.
But he lets go, heading toward the en suite.
My fingers linger in the empty space for a moment, grasping nothing but air, before I shuffle after him slowly, whispering to myself that it’s okay. He’s mad. But he’s still here. He’s still with me.
I exhale in relief—only for it to catch halfway up my throat.
The moment I step into my bedroom, the breath is ripped from my lungs.
Papers. Everywhere. Strewn across the floor like snowdrifts of secrets I never meant to share. My gaze darts to the desk—the rolltop is open. What was once a pile of crinkled pages is now carefully unfolded, meticulously arranged.
My poems. My memories. My pieces.
He’s been here.
Gabriel.
And all the perfectly hidden fragments of my life have been dragged into the light—exposed, unfolded, seen.
My knees hit the floor with a hollow thud.
“Noah?”
His voice floats in from the bathroom, harsh, but concerned.
But I can’t answer.
I can’t move.
All I can do is stare at the ruins of my privacy—of my past—scattered across the floor like a soul laid bare.
And just like that… the storm I thought I’d survived begins again.