Chapter 6 Noah #2
Gabe tucked into the corner of the sofa, looking soft and warm. Smiling at me while watching a movie.
The steam smells like him, my fist lathered with his shower gel, and for a second, I’m stupid enough to imagine it’s his hand. I could finish quickly like this—
“Nope.” I squeeze my eyes shut, grit my teeth, and force myself to let go.
I set the water to cold to rinse. I need to cool off. Pretend like I wasn’t about to get myself off to the thought of my best friend’s brother.
Pretend like I haven’t thought about doing it countless times before. I press my forehead into the wall tile and let out a tortured groan.
I need to get my shit together. No matter how attracted to Gabe I am, I can’t do that. I’m here to be a friend for him, not some creep in his shower misusing his shampoo.
By the time I’m toweling off, my brain’s spinning through my list for the day: final inspection, shipment of equipment tomorrow, set up the check-in kiosk, staffing admin—thank fuck Zeke and Jules both said yes.
Zeke’s ex-military, a wall of muscle, the kind of guy who doesn’t have to raise his voice to get a room to listen.
He’s been running trauma-informed coaching sessions at a gym in the next town over.
When I told him what we wanted to build here—inclusive, safe for anyone who’s ever felt intimidated by the gym—he didn’t hesitate signing on.
Then there’s Jules, who’s pure energy with lavender hair. They’ve run the most creative group classes I’ve ever seen with zero tolerance for body-shaming bullshit.
I wander back to my room and spend a few minutes unpacking the rest of my stuff I hauled over.
I set my sneakers by the door and pull out my old cassette tapes, lining them on the shelf one by one.
It makes the place feel more mine. I put my old cassette player beside them; it’s the one Gabe’s parents gave me on my fifteenth birthday.
I don’t know how it’s still going, but it’s one of my most valued possessions.
I pick up the book that’s on my bed, the one Gabe left for me.
It’s a high fantasy; I started it the night I moved in, and I’m loving it.
I run my thumb over the piece of paper I’ve been using as a bookmark: “Happy belated birthday.” Warmth runs through me knowing that, after all this time, he was able to pick out something that I like.
My phone lights up on the nightstand with a message from Aiden, asking if I’m on the way. I shoot him a thumbs up and head downstairs.
Gabe’s behind the counter, half-hidden by a row of brown paper bags.
He’s bent forward, a stubborn wave of hair falling toward his forehead.
The urge to reach across the counter and push it back hits me so fast it’s stupid—it looks soft, so dark and glossy, I bet it would slide easily through my fingers.
I shove my hands in my pockets.
He’s tying twine around the top of a bag with precision, tongue peeking out between his lips as he concentrates.
God, that’s cute. The bow is perfect, and then he smooths it down with his thumb before reaching for the next one.
I watch the way he moves—putting care into something most people wouldn’t think twice about.
It makes my chest warm in a way I can’t look at too closely right now.
When I get closer, he glances up for a second, then back down again, and I notice he shifts back slightly.
“Morning,” I say, soft enough not to sound loud in the quiet.
“Morning,” he says, voice hushed.
I nod toward the bags. “What’s all this?”
“Goodie bags,” he says, tucking a copy of Romeo and Juliet into one. “My friend Abbie teaches at Willowrun High School. Her class is starting next week. Thought if they had their own copies—and bookmarks—they might… I dunno, like it more.”
I raise my eyebrows, genuinely surprised. We had duct-taped paperbacks with missing pages when I went there. “Guess the school’s come a long way since I was a student if they’re organizing this.”
His hands pause, then he shakes his head without looking up. “Not the school.”
I blink. “What, you mean you just… did this, without anyone asking?”
He hesitates, then nods, fingers resuming their work.
“Yeah. I know it’s not”—his voice dips, sounding almost embarrassed—“a smart business move, giving away books for free. But Abbie said some of them don’t even have a copy at home, and I just…
” He shrugs like he’s waiting for me to tell him it’s a waste.
I see it so clearly—that quiet, guarded part of him that expects to be questioned for doing something kind.
Affection blooms in my chest, strong enough it almost hurts. “Hey,” I say softly. “That’s… really thoughtful.”
His movements stop. His ears turn pink, then the color spreads down his neck. He ducks his head and starts tying the twine like it’ll save him from the compliment.
I bite back a smile and lean casually on the counter, still giving him space. “Seriously, Gabe. They’re lucky kids. And Abbie’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I can tell it means something to him.
I start to turn away, ready to head out, when his voice catches me mid-step. “Are you seeing Aiden today?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Heading over to his place now.”
He hesitates, then picks up a slightly bigger paper bag from the corner and sets it carefully on the counter. “Can you give him this, please? Something small for Rose.”
I grab the bag gently, noticing the books inside and the satin rainbow ribbon he’s tied on it. That’s sweet. “Of course. I’m sure she’ll love this.”
His mouth ticks upward, almost a smile—and for some reason, it feels like I passed a test I didn’t know I was taking.
“See you later,” I say, and he bobs his head without looking up.
Aiden’s apartment is on the second floor of a newish building near the edge of town. Sleek, modern, dark floors—a kitchen that looks like it belongs in a magazine. And then there’s the living room, which looks exactly like a two-year-old lives there.
There are bright plastic toys shoved under the coffee table, books stacked sideways on the entertainment center, a pink sippy cup lying on its side on the counter like it was abandoned mid-action, a little puddle forming at the spout. I’m pretty sure I see Cheerios scattered on the rug.
And there’s Rose, sitting in the middle of it all, stacking blocks and talking to herself.
She’s an adorable kid—dark curls, green eyes, and the tiniest button nose.
She can charm a crowd without saying a word.
Every time she laughs, the whole room gets a little brighter.
And now I get to be a bigger part of her life.
I consider her my niece, whether we’re related by blood or not.
“Hey, bug,” I say, crouching down as she looks up and grins so big her dark curls flop into her green eyes.
“Noah!” she shouts triumphantly.
“Yeah, that’s me.” I grin at her. When she goes back to her toys, I walk over to Aiden and speak quietly. “Didn’t think she’d be here today.”
He exhales through his nose, jaw tightening. “Change of plans.”
I don’t ask anything more. Aiden would never bad-mouth Lucy when Rose is around—won’t risk her hearing even a hint of it. Whatever he feels about the situation, he keeps it away from her.
I hold out the bag Gabe gave me, and Aiden takes it, peeking inside. His whole expression lights up instantly, thumb brushing over the ribbon like he knows exactly how much thought went into it.
“He always thinks of her, spoils her any chance he gets,” he mutters, pulling out one of the books.
Rose’s eyes go wide as she spots the bright cover. “Book!” she shouts, reaching for it.
Aiden grins, handing it over. “Yeah, sweetheart. Book. From Uncle Gabe.”
“Gabe,” she repeats excitedly, wobbling to a stand and bouncing on her feet.
Something in my chest goes all tingly. She loves him, that much is obvious, and for some reason, that hits me harder than I expect. There’s something unbearably sweet about it, about the way his name makes her light up. I wish I hadn’t missed out on seeing their bond grow this last year.
I stay for coffee, long enough to sit on the floor and build block towers that Rose gleefully knocks over. Aiden leans against the counter, sipping from his mug, watching her with hearts in his eyes.
“She’s getting so big,” I say, placing blocks into a pile for another round.
“Too big, too quick,” he mutters, though he’s smiling.
We lapse into silence for a moment before he glances over at me. “So? How’s living with my brother?”
I shrug. “Good. I think I freaked him out a little the first night. I asked him to hang out and catch up. Then we just kinda… sat there. I didn’t want to push him to talk.”
“That’s not a bad thing; he didn’t run off to be alone in his room.”
“Yeah? Felt like I should’ve said more.”
“Nah.” Aiden shakes his head. “He’s getting used to you being there. Trust me when I say, the fact he isn’t avoiding you is good. Just… give him time.”
“I will.”
I just wish Gabe weren’t so tense around me. Conversation used to come easier between us, and while he’s been opening up a bit more, it’s nothing like we were.
“Good.” Aiden smirks over the rim of his mug. “Speaking of time—you think we’re actually gonna be ready for opening day?”
“Of course,” I say instantly, then laugh when he gives me a look. “Okay, mostly. The inspection should be done by this afternoon. Zeke’s dropping by to double-check the floor plan and safety protocols beforehand, so we should be good. Plenty of time before opening, and we’re nearly sorted.”
Aiden nods. “Zeke’s solid. Guy could probably keep the place standing during an earthquake.”
“Yeah, he’s the calm one,” I say with a grin. “Jules is gonna keep us all on our toes. They’ll be amazing with new clients, though—make people actually want to show up. I dropped into some of their classes when we both worked in the city.”
Aiden chuckles. “I’m glad you poached them to Willowrun. Sounds good for business.”
“That’s the hope,” I say, smiling. “Between us, I think we can really make this work.”
By the time I leave, the sky’s bright, the clouds pale against the blue. I think about Gabe back at the shop, about his careful hands tying bows and the way his ears went pink when I told him he was being thoughtful.
I want to know him better. I want him to let me.
I wake up to soft sounds from the living room—muted shuffling and muttering with an occasional sigh. I check the time on my phone, 2:47 a.m.
I get up and pad down the hall. The small lamp on the far side of the room spills a warm pool of light across the floor.
Gabe’s sitting cross-legged in front of the bookshelf, which is now empty, surrounded by stacks of books.
He looks upset, his movements are agitated as he picks books up and places them in different piles, muttering to himself.
His hand moves up to his face, touching his scar before he jerks it away roughly, shaking his head.
“Gabe?” I say, keeping my voice low in the hopes I don’t scare him. It doesn’t work, he jolts and turns wide eyes on me, breathing labored.
“Noah.” My name leaves him in a rush. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” There’s a small tremble in his voice when he speaks, and I can’t tell if it’s because something’s upset him or he’s worried I’ll be annoyed he woke me. I don’t like either option.
I sit down near him, matching his position, books between us. “Don’t worry about it. Is everything ok?”
He glances up, then lets out a small breath. “Couldn’t sleep...” He trails off, looking at the books again, then drags his palm down his face. “I’m sorry. This was really inconsiderate, I should know better.”
He’s openly berating himself, and I can’t stand it. He looks so small, so defeated, sitting on the floor. “Hey, it’s okay. Did something happen? Is that why you couldn’t sleep?”
He shakes his head and a sad smile forms on his lips. I don’t want to pry, so I look around, trying to think of something else to say.
My gaze finds a familiar cover among the pile, navy with a gold compass and lettering, and my breath catches.
“No way. You have The Wayfarer’s Star?”
He looks at the book, surprised by my reaction. “Yeah. It’s one of my favorites.”
My eyes shoot up to his face. “Really?”
“Mm.” He picks it up, thumb brushing the foil compass on the cover. The gentleness of his caress is like a physical touch; it's as though I can feel his fingers at the top of my spine.
“I read it when I was a teen. Felt like it was written for me, I read it once a year.” That smile finally reaches his eyes now. It’s a small thing, an ember that wants to grow. “It’s a comfort read.”
I stare at him, the low light casting faint shadows on his features. His thumb’s still brushing absently over the cover.
“I didn’t know that.” I exhale.
He nods his head. “Have you read it?”
“Yeah, it’s my favorite,” I admit, heat creeping up my neck. “My copy’s literally falling apart. You… um, you actually gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday.”
For a moment, he just blinks—then a soft, surprised laugh escapes him. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”
My heart sinks a little at the fact that he doesn’t remember giving me something that holds so much meaning for me.
“I didn’t.” The words leave me unbidden as I lean over a little, just close enough to see his copy.
It’s obviously been read, but looks practically new compared to mine.
“Sven’s compass meant so much to me growing up.
I’ve read the book until the pages were loose.
I actually got a tattoo of the compass.” I tap the spot where my tattoo is as I say it.
He goes still at that, gaze flicking up to mine.
“I wanted something that reminded me I’d find where I belonged… eventually,” I say quietly with an awkward chuckle. “Even when I didn’t feel like I fit anywhere.”
The room feels smaller suddenly, the air thick between us. I don’t know why I’m being so honest and vulnerable about this, but there’s something about him that makes me want to be open.
That doesn’t change the fact that I feel like I’ve given him a piece of me. Something I’ve kept locked away from everyone else.
Gabe doesn’t say anything for a moment—turning the book in his hands, like he’s seeing it differently now.
“I guess we both needed it,” he says finally, so softly I almost miss it.
I nod, throat tight. “Yeah.”