Chapter 19 GABE
GABE
The night before, I’d gotten ready for bed with something warm in my chest, a glowing, fragile ember of excitement and hope I hadn’t felt in years.
It sat there while I brushed my teeth, while I changed into my oldest, softest shirt.
I’d kissed Noah, and it had been… good. More than good.
It had been everything I ever wanted a kiss to be. Safe. Tender. Sensual.
A single kiss had never made me feel so wanted.
But when I wake, that ember has been smothered.
It’s like someone’s thrown a dark shadow over me, suffocating whatever light I’d let in. The thoughts seep in, lethal as smoke under a door.
You’re just something he pities. That’s all it was. You’re too much, too quiet, too broken — why would anyone stay for that?
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, so hard it hurts, hoping I can shut it out. The questions keep coming, circling tighter and tighter until the words are all I can hear.
It’s the same voice that kept me quiet for so long, the same one that told me to apologize when I hadn’t done anything wrong. The one that told me to take all the awful things done to me.
I thought it had been fading since Noah moved in.
But it’s here again, full volume. Booming through my thoughts. A jagged echo splitting through my skull.
You’re not safe.
You’ll never be safe.
I try to realign myself with what I know is real. Noah, leaning against the counter, a warm smile while he listens to me ramble about shop ideas. Noah, calling me beautiful with nothing but honesty in his dark blue eyes.
The way his lips felt against mine—not demanding, but patient, letting me take the lead. It was as though he was willing to take whatever I chose to give.
It helps for a second, but then the voice snakes its way back in. You’ll ruin it, just like you ruin everything else.
There’s a war going on inside me. The part of me that is desperately trying to cling to the joy I can find in life is being dragged under by the vicious parts of my mind.
I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. But we don’t always get what we want.
I can’t sit here, I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. I need to move.
I change quickly, pulling on running clothes and lacing my shoes. Usually, Noah comes with me. Normally, I look forward to running with him. Not today. Today I need to be alone with the cold air and the rhythm of my steps, even if the company in my head is cruel enough to draw blood.
Outside, the morning is dull and grey. Willowrun is just waking up, a delivery van pulls up outside Kindle’s, the driver whistling happily, a cyclist flies past. I start at an easy pace, the cold air slicing into my lungs, and take the first turn away from the route Noah and I have fallen into.
It’s petty and deliberate, but I don’t want to risk the chance of crossing his path if he decides to go alone. Not when I’m like this.
Coward.
I count my breaths as I run, hoping to repel the thoughts trying to break me open.
The cold nips at my cheeks, and my fingertips sting until they feel hot.
Usually, the town calms me when I run, the familiarity of the scene soothing.
Today, everything is too much. The street signs. The light. The inside of my skull.
I take the longer route by the square, cutting behind the community center.
Posters ripple in the breeze on the noticeboard: a queer art showing, a flyer for the next library event, a poster for Anchor Strength.
My stomach churns when I see it. I don’t let myself slow down to read any, and the colors blur past, proof the town still holds other people’s lives together even when mine feels like it’s falling apart.
A garbage truck rumbles by, the smell impressively awful. So bad, it momentarily pulls me from my thoughts.
It doesn’t last. The voice chases me, distorting and twisting into something more bloodthirsty, the darkness wants more than me now. It wants to take Noah.
He’ll hurt you.
You’ve missed the signs before.
You’ll believe anyone if they say the right things.
I squeeze my eyes against it. A dog barks behind a fence, and I jump so hard I almost trip.
Bile climbs up my throat. By the time I loop back toward Main, my legs are heavy, my breathing loud in my ears.
I blow past the usual turn toward Main, letting my feet find another route, the one that winds away from town.
The pavement ends, and the ground softens under me. The trees crowd closer the farther I go, their shadows long and dark in the early light, and the air changes.
I run harder. My pulse hammers in my ears, but I welcome the burn in my legs. It feels like a punishment and escape all at once.
My breathing evens out, not because I’m calmer, but because my mind is strangely blank—like the thoughts that had been clawing at me have slipped just out of reach.
By the time the trail opens, the lake is stretched before me, still and silver under the pale sky.
I slow to a jog before stopping. It’s quiet here. Almost too quiet. Lifeless.
The willow leans over the water, its curtain of branches brushing the surface.
I stand there, letting the cool air sting my skin. The lake feels bigger than I remember, like it could swallow the whole sky.
A shiver runs down my spine, even though I’m sweating. I pull back a step, then another, until the tree line hides the water from view.
I turn back toward town, my throat even tighter than before, for reasons I can’t quite name.
When Evergreen comes into view, the lights in the apartment overhead are dark.
Has he left or is he still asleep? Both options send an uneasy pang through me.
I slow to a jog before stopping on the footpath.
My body feels jittery with leftover adrenaline.
Relief hits when I don’t see Noah around. The relief tastes like guilt.
Inside, I pause at the base of the narrow stairs. The silence presses heavily. For a second, I picture Noah at the top, waiting—angry. The thought is too jarring, though. I can’t truly imagine Noah angry with me.
I head to the stockroom instead, palms braced against the cool wood of the door. Breathe. Just go upstairs. Shower. Open the shop. Keep moving.
Everything will be okay.
You're safe.
I head up, toeing off my shoes in the hall, and head straight for the bathroom. The shower burns hot across my shoulders, leaving my skin flushed. I scrub hard, as though I can wash off the parts of me that are still caught in the darkness.
When I’m dressed again—clean T-shirt, soft sweater—I feel a little more myself. What version of myself? I don’t know.
I make the bed before leaving the apartment because order is something I can control. I need some semblance of control today before I shatter.
On the back of the door, a note waits in Noah’s messy scrawl:
Sick of me slowing you down? Missed you this morning – N x
The guilt is like a physical blow. He’s missing me while I’m running from him. I press the heel of my hand to my sternum, like I can keep the pain contained. Why do I have to be like this? Why did I kiss him?
I swallow hard.
I just need to keep busy.
Downstairs, there are new boxes of stock by the counter. I slice one open with my house key. Colorful spines gleam up at me—the new LGBTQ+ titles I ordered weeks ago. The sight of them steadies me. This is something I can do.
I sort them by category: YA queer joy, trans memoir, lesbian lit, spicy MM romances that I’ll pretend not to blush over when Abbie and Ciarán inevitably add one to our book club. That thought makes my mouth twitch despite my mood.
The door opens, and I grind my teeth against the rising tension in my body. A woman in a navy coat steps in, cheeks pink from the cold.
“Morning,” I say in a cheery tone. Fake. Fake. Fake.
“I saw your window,” she says, touching the corner of a table with books displayed. “Do you have anything for a teenager who’s… figuring things out?”
There’s a quiet hope in her voice.
“I do,” I say, walking her to the growing queer section. “Nothing too heavy.” I hand her two paperbacks. “Promise.”
I clear my throat. “I also have a small section here for parents, guides on how to help your child while they’re finding themselves.”
When she looks at me, I see her eyes are brimming with tears. “That would be great, thank you,” she says softly. I ring her up, tuck a free bookmark inside, and she leaves with a little wave.
The small interaction helps me breathe. Knowing I can help someone, that my store is a safe space.
I keep myself busy, and the rest of the day goes by in a blur.
At closing, I flip the sign and press my palm to the glass. I close my eyes and press my forehead into the cool material.
Keep me safe. Even from my own mind.
Upstairs, I wash my hands with the hottest water I can stand. I pull them away before I can do any real damage, the pain a fleeting distraction. I smooth my hair and switch cardigans—to my favorite one. It’s falling apart, but I need that small comfort.
“Hey,” Noah calls out, his voice warm. As if nothing between us has shifted. As if last night’s kiss is still lingering for him the way it was for me, before my mind tried to eviscerate it.
I move into the kitchen as he steps in. The evening light sifts through the window, catching on the lighter strands in the hair peeking out from his backward cap, golden threads illuminated. The sight makes my throat burn. He’s so handsome, so perfect.
Why can’t I be good enough for him? Be normal enough to keep him? Why do I have to have days like this, where I feel like I’m drowning just from breathing?
“You went without me this morning,” he says casually, nodding toward my running shoes by the door. I hear the question in his tone, though; he’s wondering why I went without him.
“Needed to clear my head,” I answer truthfully, keeping my tone neutral as I busy myself with the kettle. The whistle is thin and high, the sound piercing my skull.