Chapter 15 NOAH #2
“There’s nothing normal about them.” His eyes glimmer as he looks at me, and I feel like I’m caught in them. Our arms are pressed together, and I feel the warmth of his skin against mine. The connection goes on longer than necessary, both of us lingering in it.
The kettle whistles, pulling us out of the moment. Abbie looks between Ciarán and Aiden, hunting for a smile. “Well?”
Ciarán gets into Aiden’s space to stage-whisper in his ear, sultry as can be, “Come on, big boy. One smile. I won’t tell.”
There’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth before he locks it down again.
Abbie points with her highlighter. “That counts.”
Ciarán beams. “Baker’s dozen, please.”
“Fucking nightmare,” Aiden mutters, but he’s still fighting a smile. And for the first time, I see a hint of fondness in the way he looks at Ciarán.
“National treasure, and don’t bring the cheap shit,” Ciarán says, moving swiftly away from Aiden now that he’s won.
Abbie starts pouring tea as Ciarán hops up to help. Amongst the commotion, an elbow bumps my thigh, and under the table, a hand finds mine. Gabe doesn’t look at me—just laces our fingers under the table. I squeeze once. He squeezes back. My heart hammers in my chest.
I don’t know what this is. We haven’t done more than hold hands. But I can feel the architecture of us being built, I just don’t know what will stand when it’s done.
All I know is, holding his hand feels more intimate than anything else I’ve ever done.
Theo lifts like a beast. He’s not as broad as me or Aiden, but the man moves serious weight.
“Bro, you’re scaring the clients,” Aiden laughs from the squat rack.
“Not my fault I’ve got talent.” Theo winks at me, setting the bar down hard.
“And modesty,” I tease. “How’d your head fit through the door this morning?”
Theo’s mouth tips. “Which one?”
“Idiot.” I’m laughing. Aiden is, too.
“What made you move to Willowrun?” I ask Theo.
“I was living in New York for a long time, wanted something a bit quieter, so I moved to Philadelphia. Turns out, not so quiet,” he laughs, staring out the large windows.
“Then one day I read about Oregon and thought, why the fuck not? I wanted a change, wanted my own studio instead of working for someone else. And I fucking got it.”
There’s a gentle smile on his face as he watches people pass by. I get it, more than he knows. That draw to the quiet life.
Theo grabs a towel, wiping his forehead before turning to Aiden. “Your brother’s event was great, by the way. Will he be doing more?”
Aiden blows out a measured breath. “I don’t know, I hope so. He did a great job. Always did in the past, too.”
There’s a big smile on his face, full of pride and love, but it drops in record time when Theo says, “Nice, I’d love to go to more. Hey, have either of you got Ciarán’s number? I meant to ask for it, but we all got carried away talking.”
Aiden’s face turns thunderous. It’s one thing to have an issue with Ciarán himself, but does he expect Theo to snub him out of solidarity?
Aiden just gives a clipped, “Nope.”
I shake my head. I want to tell Theo I could ask Gabe for it, but I don’t dare in front of Aiden.
We settle back into our workout, but there’s a weird tension around us now. Aiden’s at the punching bag, and I can feel the vibration of each slam of his fist. Theo raises a brow in question, and I shrug. Because seriously, fuck if I know.
We drop back into sets.
Afterward, I dig in my bag for my notebook. “I’ve been thinking we could add additional classes,” I say. “Something lighter, maybe yoga.”
Aiden gives me a surprised look. “You, mister, ‘I love to lift,’ want to lead yoga?”
“Well, I don’t know if I’d be the best person to lead it, but I think it could do well.” I shrug. “I think it could help people, beyond physical health.”
What I don’t say is I think it would be something Gabe might like. I see how relaxed he can be after running or dancing. Something like yoga could do the same for him or others struggling with their mental health.
Aiden stares at me, head tilted and a crease in his brow.
I clear my throat, fiddling with the edge of my notebook, avoiding his eyes as they bore into me.
Theo nods. “Not everyone wants to sweat it out.”
“Exactly,” I mutter.
Aiden claps my back. “Good idea.”
“Don’t tell anyone I have those,” I laugh awkwardly. “It’ll ruin my rep.”
“Your rep is cheesy music, it’s already ruined,” he shoots back, and I give him a scowl.
When Theo heads for the showers, me and Aiden stay at the desk, working through admin. I have my laptop open, going through a new schedule.
“Can I ask you something?” he says, still looking at the schedule.
“Always.”
“What’s going on with you and Gabe?” My shoulders stiffen.
“Nothing.” Unfortunately, I think to myself. “We’re just getting to know each other again. I care about him.”
Not a lie.
Okay, so maybe that’s lie adjacent. Not technically false, just emotionally misleading on my part.
“You care about him… in what way?” He keeps his eyes on the clipboard, jaw tight, and for some reason, that makes me even more nervous.
My palms grow sweaty. “Jesus, Aiden, you’re killing me here,” I say, shifting in my seat, my heart galloping.
Is he going to be angry with me if I tell him how I feel about Gabe?
I don’t think he will be, but I can’t shake the nerves.
I can’t lie to him either, though. “I care about him in the way I always have… and more. I think he’s special. ”
Aiden lets out a low, contemplative hum. His grip on the clipboard eases slightly. “Yeah. He is. And if he never feels the same about you? That’s okay with you?”
“Of course.” I swallow roughly. “I just—” I drag a thumb along the desk edge, eyes fixed anywhere but his. “I want to be someone he feels safe with. If that’s all it ever is, that’s… still everything.” And I mean that. He doesn’t have to choose me for me to choose him.
Aiden breathes out slowly, tension leaving his shoulders.
He finally looks at me, “You are, I can see it. He trusts you,” he says.
I blink hard and nod, because anything else will tip me over the edge.
Knowing that Aiden can see his brother trusts me, him acknowledging that I’m a safe person to Gabe, means the world to me.
He chews his lip then asks, “Should you be living with him, though, if you feel that way? I don’t want you to get hurt.”
There’s that protective instinct. I know what he’s saying makes sense, but everything in me rebels at the thought of leaving Gabe.
“I’ll be okay. I like living with him, and I wanna be there for him.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just nods his head with a thoughtful expression.
We finish the schedule without another word.
On his way out to get Rose, he squeezes my shoulder but says nothing.
When the door shuts, I finally exhale.
By the time I get back to Evergreen, a dull headache presses behind my eyes.
Not awful—just a constant throb that makes everything feel too bright.
The air outside smells like wet leaves and cold stone.
The shop windows are dark, I let myself in and climb the narrow stairs, hand gliding over the banister worn smooth by years.
The apartment is warm. One lamp spills honeyed light over Gabe.
He’s curled in the corner of the couch, legs tucked, journal in one hand, pen caught between his lips.
He looks relaxed in a way I don’t see enough.
His copy of The Wayfarer’s Star is on the coffee table.
He looks up, and something in his face shifts.
“Hi,” he says in that deep, soft voice. “You okay?”
“Headache,” I mumble. “Long day.”
He studies me, then closes the journal and puts it away. “Come lie down.”
“I’m just going to—”
He’s already shifting, placing a pillow beside his bent leg and patting the cushion like the decision’s already made. “Lie down.”
Something in his voice—that soft demand—does things to me. My body moves on instinct, like I’m under his control. I stretch out, head sinking onto the pillow in the crook of his legs, my own over the armrest. The cushions smell like him—lavender, and his shampoo.
He shifts closer, one knee up on the cushion braced by my head. His hands hover. Hesitation flickering in his eyes, I nod.
His fingers slip into my hair, and I hear a trembling exhale leave him.
His hands are light at first, catching and releasing strands.
Then deeper—fingertips pressing slow circles right where the throb flares.
Warmth spreads with every pass. My eyelids grow heavy.
Each sweep behind my ears makes me sink further into the sofa.
I didn’t realize how tightly wound I was. My shoulders relax. My chest rises and falls deeply. The headache doesn’t vanish, but the harshness of it melts away under his touch.
Nobody touches me like this. Nobody ever cared enough to. It isn’t sexual in any way, but lying here with his hands in my hair feels makes me feel… special. Like I'm important to him. I don’t know if it means anything—if it’s just Gabe being Gabe—or if there’s more buried beneath.
“You’re good at that,” I mumble, eyes closed.
“Ciarán gets migraines,” he says softly. “Sometimes I do this for him.”
“You’re a good friend,” I muse, a stab of disappointment running through me, understanding this is just the kind of thing he does for his friends.
He exhales—a sound between a laugh and a sigh. “I try. Truth is, I need them more than they need me.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I tell him. “You’re all so… connected. You’d do anything for each other. I wish I had that. I mean, I know I do with Aiden, but I thought I’d have more people that were mine, I guess.”
As soon as I say it, I want it back. It’s too telling. His hands pause, and the silence makes me want to squirm.
“But you must’ve had that,” he says, almost disbelieving. “In the city. Aiden said you were always out with friends. You didn’t come home for holidays at my parents’, because you were with them.”
A humorless laugh catches in my throat. “Yeah. That’s what I let him believe.
” Heat crawls up my neck. Suddenly, I just feel so exhausted, tired of keeping everything to myself.
Of how much I hid from everyone. “I didn’t want him worrying about me.
Truth is, I didn’t have many friends. And the few I did have, well, they liked me when things were fun and easy, but when it mattered… they were gone.”
Shame knots my stomach, but I can’t stop myself. “Most nights, most holidays, it was just me.” My voice cracks. “I should’ve told him, but I let him believe something else. And now I’m telling you when he doesn’t know. I’m a shit friend.”
I feel cut open, exposed. My pulse throbs in my ears.
The air shifts. His touch stills, and for a moment, it feels like the apartment is holding its breath.
“Noah.” My name leaves him on an exhale.
I keep my eyes shut; if I look at him, I might cry.
“Your parents always made me feel like part of the family. But when I moved, I dunno, I felt detached from everyone here. I called Aiden when I could, visited when I managed, but it wasn’t the same.
And after they were gone… coming back got even harder.
My mom didn’t have time for me. Then Aiden was so busy with Rose. I didn’t want to take up space.”
A soft, wounded sound breaks from him. Both his hands cup my head, trembling faintly. He shifts so I’m in the crook of his lap. His forehead lowers to the crown of mine, his breath shaky in my hair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice raw. “I didn’t know. I thought you were fine. I should’ve—” He stops himself.
His forehead stays pressed to mine as he sniffles.
“I didn’t see you properly before,” he says, whispering the words as though it’s a secret between only us.
“But now I do. I see you, Noah.” I hear the emotion in his voice, and I feel it deep in my soul.
“You can be whatever you need with me, you don’t have to hide. ”
My nose burns, the stinging sensation spreading to my eyes. Slowly, I lift my hand and cover his, anchoring him where he anchors me.
“You see me,” I whisper.
“I do.” His thumb brushes my cheek—so tenderly I almost break.
He moves back slightly, and I open my eyes to look into his.
They’re lined with tears, making the green of them shimmer like droplets of rain on the forest floor.
I should look away, there’s too much showing in my own eyes.
Something in the way he holds me there makes it hard to pretend.
His eyes pin me, like he’s not afraid of what he might find.
“I see you, Blue,” he says, almost under his breath as color blooms across his cheeks.
“I always like your eyes.” His thumb follows my hairline as my heart goes wild.
“They’re usually so dark… but they’re clearer when you’re not smiling.
Like water after the rain.” He pauses, breathing shallow. “Feels more honest, somehow.”
Honest.
People never want that from me. They take the grin, the charm, the jokes I can throw out. That’s the version I’ve always given, because it’s easy.
But Gabe… he’s not looking at that. He’s not even trying to. He’s searching me, holding my gaze hostage as he finds all the deeper parts nobody has ever wanted.
My throat tightens. The air feels heavy. I could laugh, make a joke, turn the moment into something light. That’s what I always did—turn the sharp edges into something easier to swallow, because nobody wants the real me. My mouth even twitches toward a smile, but it dies before it gets there.
He’s still looking into my eyes.
The quiet stretches enough that it hurts, and then I hear myself say, low and full of emotion, “Call me that again.”
His gaze doesn’t falter. “Blue.”
It feels so weighted, important, and my eyes fall shut again. Not my name, but my name all the same.
“You can be yourself with me. You don’t have to always be the one smiling or laughing.”
His forehead touches mine again, and I release a shuddering breath.
We stay like that a long time—my eyes closed, his breath warming my hair, the quiet louder than anything we could say.
Everything inside me feels split open in the best and worst ways.
So, I lie there with his hands in my hair, and my hand over his, letting him hold me.
And for the first time in years, I don’t feel invisible. I feel seen—so deeply it scares me.
But by Gabe, I want to be seen.
“Gabe,” I whisper into the silence.
His response is just as hushed. “Yeah?”
“Will you read The Wayfarer’s Star to me?”
He starts at the beginning.