Chapter 10 Noah
NOAH
By the time I climb the stairs, I’m soaked through, sneakers squeaking with every step. My hands are so cold I can barely grip the key. My hand freezes in midair. There, taped right to the door, is a little pink square.
Your hoodie is in the dryer. Didn’t want you to be cold. – G
I stand there, dripping all over the floor, staring. Heat spreads through my chest. I grab the note, brushing my thumb over his tidy words, then stick it in my pocket before opening the door. I kick off my wet shoes and head straight for the dryer. When I open the door, heat spills out.
The hoodie is warm when I pull it against my chest, so warm I close my eyes and breathe it in.
My smile is wide and crooked. I pull my wet hoodie and top off in one.
Sliding the heated fabric on feels like stepping into something I’ve always wanted—like he wants me here.
Thinks of me even when I’m not standing in front of him.
Which is insane. It’s a hoodie, not a love letter. But try telling my brain that.
It floors me anyway. Because Gabe… after all the ways the world’s been unkind, he still thinks like this. Still notices what someone else might need and goes out of his way to make it better.
It’s sweet. Thoughtful. It’s him, through and through. Kind in ways he doesn’t even see.
“Gabe,” I whisper, needing to feel his name on my lips.
This man is so damn beautiful. Not just the way he looks, though those green eyes could stop me in my tracks, but the way he carries himself.
Quiet, thoughtful, always thinking of someone else.
There’s always been something about him.
For so long, I tried to file the attraction away as a dumb crush—harmless and temporary.
I assumed he was straight until Aiden mentioned he had a boyfriend years ago, and hearing it gutted me.
Which is stupid, he never looked at me in that way.
But it made me feel bereft. Like I’d lost something I never even had a chance to hold.
It should’ve faded over the years. But it didn’t, and now living here, it’s growing.
Sharing a space with him feels like getting caught in his gravity—impossible to escape.
I don’t even want to. My eyes always find him once we’re sharing space—the way his hair falls into his face when he’s reading or writing in his journal, the small crease between his brows when he’s thinking.
Even when I tell myself to stop noticing, I still do.
And it’s complicated. Because he’s Aiden’s brother.
And Gabe’s been through something. I see it—the way he startles at sudden noise, the careful distance he keeps, the way his gaze slips away like it costs him something to hold it.
That scar on his cheek catches the light sometimes, and it makes something fierce and protective come to life within me.
Makes me want to shield him from anything that could even come close.
It’s not that I think he feels the same draw that I do.
I don’t. He’s never shown anything like that.
But attraction doesn’t care about logic, and mine doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.
I tug the hoodie tighter around me, breathing in.
For a second, I let myself wonder what it would be like if this life were mine to come home to every day—if he were mine.
Not just mine to look at from across the room, but mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. Mine to cherish.
The thought leaves me lightheaded because I want it way too much.
The idea of never being more than this—just a roommate, just a presence in his space—burns like a slow match under my ribs.
And still, I have to be okay with it. If all I ever get is being the guy who shows up, who makes things easier for him, then that’s what I’ll be.
Even if it hurts, I’ll take that hurt for Gabe.
Because more than wanting him, I want for him.
Safety. Ease. Laughter without fear. If that’s all I’m ever allowed to give, it will be enough.
It has to be.
Gabe’s been fidgeting since I got home from leaving flyers around other local businesses. His energy is restless. He wipes the same corner of the counter three times while I rinse out the blender, glancing between me and the dish towel like he’s working up to something.
“You okay?” I ask, flicking water from my fingers.
His eyes snap up. “Yeah. I mean”—he clears his throat—“yes. I’m fine.”
Which means he isn’t.
He folds the towel, then unfolds it. Folds it again. Takes a breath and does it once more. Three times.
“Abbie and Ciarán invited me to brunch.” His words leave him in a rush. I lean on the counter, keeping my demeanor calm. This is freaking him out, Aiden said he rarely goes out anymore.
“Nice.”
He lets out a startled laugh.
“It’s a ‘boozy brunch’… At Kindle’s.” He says the words like they’re another language.
I laugh. “That sounds very on brand.”
He smiles faintly, then shakes his head. “I don’t usually go to things like that. Not anymore.”
I nod, not pushing. Just letting the quiet hang while his fingers wring the towel again.
“I’m not sure I’ll go. But… I’m thinking about it. I don’t know if I will. But. I want to go but—”
“Gabe,” I interject to calm his rambling. His head snaps up, and I meet his eyes. “If you want to go, then I think you should.”
He blinks at me, surprised. “You do?”
“Yeah. You don’t have to stay long. Show up, see how you feel.” I hesitate, then add, “I could walk you there. Walk you home. If that helps.”
He takes a breath that shakes a little, eyes searching mine before darting away. “You’d do that?”
The question is full of uncertainty, like he can’t quite believe it—can’t believe someone would do something for him. It cracks something open in my chest.
“Of course.” My voice is steady; it always will be for him. Because I would build a road under his feet if it meant he’d take one more step toward the things he wants.
“I dunno,” he mumbles.
I step closer without crowding him. “Will you tell me what makes you so nervous about going?”
His eyes shoot to mine, that little crease forming between his brows before he laughs awkwardly. “My constitution?”
I smile softly at him before promoting him with a gentle, “Gabe.”
He sighs as he gnaws on his lip. When I start to think I’ve pushed too far, he speaks in a whisper, “What if… I really do want to go, but what if something bad happens? What if someone—” He slams his eyes closed, and the rest comes out as barely more than air. “What if someone touches me.”
When he opens his eyes, all I want is to pull him into my arms; they’re so full of fear, and I’d do anything to take it away.
I think carefully about my next words. “I understand why you’d stress about that, but your friends won’t let anything bad happen to you. Do they know you worry about that?”
He tilts his head. “Not exactly.”
I’m guessing that’s more a no. I really wish he’d tell his friends, but I’m glad he’s opening up to me.
“Okay, well, is there anything I can do that would help? Like I said, I can walk you there and wait around. Stick close by so you can leave whenever you like.”
He nods, then hesitates, fingers still worrying the towel. “You could come, too. If you wanted. Not just walk me there.”
My heart trips over itself, hard enough that I feel it in my throat. “Do you want me to? You don’t have to invite me just because I’m walking you there.”
He stares at the floor for a bit, then says softly, “I’d feel more comfortable if you were there. And… I want you to know my friends better. We could invite Aiden, too. It might be nice to all get together before the gym opens next week.”
Something in his voice—so open, so quietly brave—just about undoes me. The fact he wants me to know his friends better, be part of their group, soothes the longing parts of me that always searched for my own people. They’re a family, it’s clear to see, and I want to be part of it.
“Then I’ll be there,” I promise.
His shoulders sag, and he finally looks up, and when our eyes meet, something flickers between us, something warm and alive.
We look at each other for a long moment, like we’re finally seeing each other again after so long.
I don’t speak. I don’t want to break the moment.
I let myself get lost in those eyes that remind me of spring and forests, life and growth.
His cheeks grow pink as the time stretches on.
Does he feel this energy between us, too?
Eventually, he steps back with a nod and gives me a sweet smile. It’s small and shy, it makes my heart pound frantically as my knees grow weak.
I watch him go and decide I don’t care how chaotic brunch gets. I’d sit through ten mimosas and Ciarán questioning me the entire time if it meant Gabe would feel safe enough to walk into that diner.
Tonight, there’s another sticky note waiting in the kitchen. A neon green square and under a paper towel, I find another half Oreo, this time he’s given me the side with the icing. My shoulders shake with silent laughter.
I’d share my last Oreo with you too. – G
The grin that splits my face is almost painful, stretching until my cheeks ache. This man gives me half an Oreo, and suddenly I’m planning our retirement fund.
Someone slap me.