Chapter 18 GABE #2
“Don’t let him talk you into anything without thinking about it first,” Aiden says gruffly as he drops into the chair across from Theo, setting two mugs down on the table, glaring at Ciarán.
Noah leans into my space. I feel the heat of him, and it sends a shiver through me. “You feeling okay?” he whispers near my ear, just for me.
I feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, and it takes effort not to let my eyes flutter closed and lean in so his lips brush my ear. I give him a nod.
Ciarán smiles at my brother, but there’s nothing friendly in it. “I only want the best for him. No need to be so protective, Daddy.”
Aiden looks at him, stone-faced. “Stop calling me that.”
“But it’s so much fun.”
I huff out a breath. “You two need couples counseling.”
“We should do this weekly,” Theo says happily at the same time, clearly enjoying their bickering.
Abbie groans and reaches for her coffee. “This is why I always have to sit in the middle, to referee.”
“You love it,” I tell her.
“Maybe.” She hides a massive smile behind her mug.
The conversation drifts—Abbie talking about a school play her students are rehearsing, Theo mentioning a new art show he wants to check out—and I find myself just…
listening. The table is filled with warmth and overlapping voices, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like I’m part of something instead of orbiting around it.
Noah hasn’t spoken much during lunch, but I notice him watching me, and whenever I catch his eye, he has a tender-looking smile on his face when taking the group in.
I know he was lonely in the city. I hope he doesn’t feel like that anymore.
I hope he’s happy with us.
By the time I flip the sign to Closed, the day has left me pleasantly wrung out. The lunch chatter still hums faintly in my head—Abbie’s easy warmth, Ciarán and Aiden bickering like it’s their job, Theo’s dry one-liners that made Ciarán snort-laugh in a way I’d never heard before.
I’d been nervous about going, but I’m glad I did.
I’m wiping down the counter when the door opens, and Noah steps inside. “Hi,” he says, smiling in a way that makes my stomach flutter.
“Hi,” I say shyly. I feel like he can see the attraction on my face now that I’ve admitted it to myself.
He glances at the rag in my hand. “Need help?”
I shake my head. “Almost done.”
He leans against the counter. “You did a lot of smiling today, seemed less tense than when we went to Kindle’s,” he says casually, but there’s an undertone of something else I can’t quite place, maybe hope?
His eyes search mine, and I duck my head, focusing very hard on cleaning. “I’m trying,” I say, a little dazed. “It felt… good. I felt like I was actually present, not worrying about all the things that might go wrong.”
“I want that for you.” His voice is so low I almost miss it, and that strange flutter goes off in my heart again, the same one that’s been sneaking up on me all day when I think of him.
By the time I set the rag aside, he’s already heading for the nook with a paper bag.
“Brought snacks,” he calls over his shoulder. “Figured we could work on the shop stuff?”
We sit on the small sofa in the book nook, laptop on the coffee table, the glow from the screen soft against the shelves.
I curl my legs under me while Noah types, showing me how to add things to the site builder.
He’s a lot more tech-savvy than me. His hands move with easy confidence, and I can’t help but watch the movement of his fingers.
He talks me through web templates and product lists, explaining each step.
“See? You can totally do this,” he says with confidence.
I hesitate, staring at the screen like it might bite. “It’s... a lot. I started making one last year. But…”
But I let Kyle tell me it was terrible, I let him convince me I couldn’t do it. I let him control me.
“But?”
I let out a heavy sigh. I’m torn. I want to share more with him, but I don’t want him to look at me differently. When I look into his eyes, they’re so earnest and open, the decision seems easier. “My ex. He… discouraged me. When it came to a lot of things.”
Noah’s jaw tics. “He shouldn’t have done that.”
I know he’s right, but it’s not so easy to move past. All the comments over time added up, then as things got worse with Kyle, he got his claws into the bigger parts of me. He damaged the things that made me, me.
“I’ll help you with whatever you need. You don’t have to do it alone,” Noah says simply.
Something about the way he says it makes my throat tight. Not just about the website. About… everything.
He leans back into the sofa, socked foot nudging mine.
“So,” he says casually, “lunch with the chaos crew. Survived okay?”
He’s not looking at me any differently. There’s no pity in his eyes. He’s not pushing me to share more than I can now.
I grin into my lap. “Barely. Theo seems to be fitting in well.”
“Yeah. He’s a good guy. Funny and chill.”
“And Ciarán’s still trying to drive Aiden insane.” I chuckle.
Noah groans dramatically. “Is there seriously no man in this town who can keep him busy? I swear, if Aiden ends up in prison, I’m not bailing him out. Maybe Theo will be up for the challenge of taming him.”
My laugh echoes through the store. “They just thrive on irritating each other. It’s been like this for years. It’s got to the point where I think they both secretly enjoy it. And Ciarán cannot be tamed. Not that he even lets anyone close enough to try.”
Noah tilts his head, curious. “Ciarán doesn’t date much?”
“Not really. He goes through phases of trawling apps, but says it’s easier to stay single than deal with men who only want him for the wrong reasons.”
Noah’s brow furrows. “The wrong reasons?”
“Some try to feminize him. Others expect him to be a stereotype. He dresses how he likes, paints his nails, wears crop tops—but he’s a man. And people… don’t always get that. A lot of men just want him for his looks, they don’t see how amazing he is.”
Noah nods, slow and thoughtful. “That sounds exhausting. It’s a pity he’s been treated that way, he’s a great guy.”
I watch him while he says it, the way his expression softens instead of twisting with judgment. He means it.
When we pack up the laptop, I ask about the gym, and his face lights up as it always does when he’s talking about something he cares about.
He tells me about organizing a new yoga class, about creating a space where people can work through the mental side of fitness without feeling like they have to perform.
There’s a glow behind his smile, and I find myself mirroring him without meaning to. He’s so thoughtful.
When he mentions Rose and how Aiden’s been adjusting, he rubs the back of his neck with his hand—that worried tell I’ve caught before. It’s funny, my dad always did that, now me and Aiden do, too, and apparently Noah. I like noticing things about him.
I like that he cares about my brother and niece, that he accepts my friends as they are. That he accepts me. He hasn’t seen every dark corner, but what he has seen, he hasn’t turned from.
I like him. A lot. It scares me because I think I more than like him.
The conversation tapers off, but the quiet that follows doesn’t feel awkward. It feels… charged.
We’re still sitting side by side on the couch as rain taps against the windows. My hands fidget with the sleeve of my cardigan, nerves crawling under my skin, intensifying with every second that passes.
I feel his eyes on me before I dare to glance up.
He’s not looking at my eyes, though; he’s fixed on my mouth.
My breath catches, my chest squeezing so tight I think it might hurt. My heart is pounding like it’s trying to climb out of me and hand itself to him.
Now I can’t stop staring at his mouth.
Every time Noah speaks, every time his lips curve into that easy grin, something hot darts through me—want, fear, and hope all mixed together. The thought of kissing him has been circling me like a storm for days, gathering force until it’s the only thing left in my head.
His hand rests on his thigh, so near to mine that I could reach out and touch it.
My fingers tremble. I want to kiss him so badly.
But I don’t know if I can do this. My throat is tight, breath shallow, adrenaline buzzing in every nerve. Against my will, my mind drifts to how hands could be cruel, to how intimacy had been a punishment, a weapon, not a choice.
Then, with some effort, I force those thoughts away. He has no place here.
I think about Noah.
Noah, who never pushes. Noah, who makes space for me without making me feel small. Noah, who helps hold my fear so gently that sometimes I forget I’m holding it at all.
Noah, who always gives me choices.
The fear recedes enough for me to feel the want underneath it. I shift toward him, cautiously, afraid that if I move too fast, he’ll disappear. My hand shakes when I lift it, hovering for a second before I press it flat against his chest, right over his heart.
He goes still. I shouldn’t kiss him, it’s a terrible idea. Whatever this is, it can’t be real. He’s sunlight, and I’m the storm that could swallow him whole.
He deserves someone easy. Someone who doesn’t overthink every moment in life, who doesn’t even know how they can be touched now. Someone without the cracks I carry.
But as he licks his bottom lip, those thoughts falter, slipping through my fingers like water.
“Gabe?” His voice is a whisper. Confusion flickers in his eyes, but there’s more beneath that—there’s a heat I feel down to my toes.
I can’t answer. Can’t breathe enough to form words. I just hold my hand there, feeling the heavy thud of his heartbeat under my palm. The strength of him. And then, before I can lose my nerve, I lean in and press my mouth to his.
He exhales softly, like something in him has been wound tight and is finally letting go.
It’s soft at first, just a gentle press of lips. The kind of kiss that isn’t asking for anything but still gives everything. My heart stumbles, and a shaky sound slips from me.
His lips are warm against mine, coaxing me closer until I’m leaning into him without thinking. My hand fists in his shirt, clinging to him, because I need something to hold on to while the world shifts under my feet.
Noah kisses me like he has all the time in the world to explore me, the shape of my lips, the uneven hitch in my breath.
He tilts his head, and his lips part just slightly, deepening the kiss.
His fingers slide into my hair, and the touch is tender, combing through strands like he wants to soothe every part of me.
My eyes flutter closed as my pulse roars in my ears.
Then, the first delicate brush of his tongue against my lower lip, seeking entry. Heat pools low in my stomach as I open for him, a quiet gasp escaping as his tongue meets mine.
The kiss is filled with a slow-burning hunger I don’t expect. His tongue strokes against mine, tasting me like I’m worth savoring. He groans into my mouth, making me feel lightheaded.
Every soft slide of his mouth over mine unravels something inside me that has been tied up for years. I feel wanted. Desired. But more than that, I feel safe. Taken care of. There’s no rush, no demand for more, just the simple truth that Noah wants to kiss me.
A whimper slips free when he deepens the kiss again, and he moans, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones like he’s mapping every inch of my face.
My cock stirs, growing hard in my jeans, but there’s no urgency to it.
Just the slow, aching realization that I can still want like this. That I can be wanted like this.
I didn’t realize how much I needed this from him—touch that doesn’t hurt, doesn’t take, doesn’t ask for more than I can give.
Noah kisses me through it, the sensual slide of his tongue against mine luring soft, broken sounds from my throat. He pulls back slightly, only far enough to let his breath ghost over my lips.
I blink my eyes open slowly, breath shaky, and see him looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world.
His pupils are blown wide, the dark blue of his eyes swallowed by lust, lips kiss-swollen and shining faintly in the low light.
His breathing is uneven, like kissing me has affected him just as much as it has undone me.
He leans in until his forehead rests against mine, like he needs something to steady himself in the moment.
The sight sends another wave of heat through me, dizzying in its intensity. Knowing he wants me this much, that I can do this to him, makes my heart hammer even harder.
“All good?” he whispers, his voice wrecked but careful, always careful with me.
I nod, eyes closing again, too overwhelmed to trust my voice. “Yes,” I finally manage to croak.
I force my eyes open, needing to see his face. Needing those eyes. “Again?”
For a moment, his eyes soften even further, something affectionate shining through the dark heat there. Then he smiles—slow, warm, radiant—and it feels like sunlight breaking through every cloud I’ve been carrying for years.
And he gives me exactly what I asked for.