Chapter 32 #3
I reach for it without thinking, coiling the cool platinum chain into my palm—until I see the pendant.
It’s Gabriel’s.
The necklace slips from my hand, clattering against the ledge and falling silently to the floor.
I lean my hip against the tub, trying to gather myself, because I had one-hundred percent forgotten all about Gabriel.
I dip my fingers back into the water—maybe to calm down, maybe to wash away the guilt of touching something that wasn’t mine.
Someone who wasn’t mine.
My hand accidentally brushes against Noah’s inner thigh, and I jerk back instinctively, but he’s faster. He catches my wrist and places my hand right back where it was.
“Don’t ever be afraid to touch me,” he says, firm but tender.
I squeeze my eyes shut, leaving my hand resting against his smooth-muscled thigh. The air is thick with steam and the warm, spicy scent of coconut. Noah hums in quiet contentment.
“She’s not a bad person,” he murmurs, shifting his hips just enough to send a ripple of water sloshing over the edge of the tub.
“Who?”
“Meera. She saved me, Alex. And she found you.”
I exhale sharply, jaw tightening. Frustration surges through me—I can’t let that slide.
“She never told me about you, Noah.”
“She couldn’t,” he says quietly, breathing through the heat. “It was too dangerous.”
That doesn’t sit right. Not even close. Because if she was coming to find me, then why the hell not tell me about him? Where’s the danger in that?
I yank my hand out of the water.
“Are you fucking kidding me? She’s not the good person you think she is. Did you know that she blackmailed Gabriel? Your boyfriend?” I snap, throwing the word at him like a reminder—of him, of us, of everything.
“And what about Ana? I had no idea she even existed. I didn’t even know Meera was pregnant. I had to piece together a goddamn puzzle just to learn the truth. And your sister? She walked out on Emilee—and on me. She left us, Noah. Without a word.”
My voice cracks, raw with anger. I slam my palm against the side of the tub, the sound echoing in the silence that follows. My anger is back.
“Is that your definition of a good person, Noah? Is it?!”
He tips his head to the side, pinning me with those clear baby blues. But they do nothing to cool the fire burning in my chest.
“A good person doesn’t walk away from their family!” I shout. “They don’t hide a pregnancy from someone they claim to love, then leave a damn treasure map of puzzle pieces just to find the truth! I didn’t even know what the fuck I was looking for!”
I pause, breath hitching. But the anger won’t stop—it’s too big now. Too heavy.
“And a good person sure as hell doesn’t blackmail the family who adopted their daughter!
Elijah and Gabriel loved that little girl with everything they had.
And they loved each other—deeply, fiercely.
But your sister destroyed that. She ended their marriage, Noah.
That’s not just a mistake. That’s not noble. That’s not what a good person does!”
Before I can say anything more, he shoots to his feet, water sloshing over the tub and soaking my pants.
He barrels into me as he climbs out, reaching for a towel before stomping out of the bathroom gloriously naked.
Even with fury in his step, he still manages to sway his hips like it’s second nature.
I let him go. I give him a minute to cool off. And I give myself a minute more.
The sound of a door slamming makes me flinch, and I rush out of the bathroom, only to find him seated back at the desk, shoulders rigid with anger. He spins around as I approach and slams a thick stack of papers into my stomach.
“This is who she is, Alex! This is what she did for me!” he shouts.
Another fistful of papers hits my gut, more symbolic than force. His hands are trembling. The blows land like whispers.
Dirty-blond hair flops over his eyes, and his pretty pink lips quiver. Papers scatter across the floor like pieces of a broken truth.
I grab him by the arm, yanking him out of the chair, and pull him against me.
“I’m sorry, Noah,” I whisper, brushing the hair from his face so I can see him. “But you need to understand who she really is. She’s manipulative. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself. You think the rain saved you—but it only blinded you.”
The words barely leave my mouth before he rips himself from my arms as if I’d struck him. He storms to the bed and yanks open a drawer with so much force it skids off the tracks and crashes to the floor.
“If anyone knows her, it’s me!” he snaps, breath ragged. “I grew up with her, Alex. I saw her struggles—just like she saw mine. We lived the same pain. The same trauma. The same goddamn nightmare. And we both spent time in the rain… but she found a way out!”
He snatches a pair of powder-blue briefs from the drawer and pulls them on, followed by loose-fitting shorts. Every movement is tight with emotion, each breath a battle he’s barely winning.
“She only cares about herself,” I say again, dragging my hands through my hair, refusing to fold under the weight of his tantrum.
“She cares about me too,” he mutters, voice thick as he collapses onto the bed. His face disappears into his hands.
I sigh—long and tired—and drop down beside him, the mattress dipping between us.
“Alright, Noah. You win,” I say softly, staring up at the ceiling. “Tell me about Meera.”