Chapter 21 NOAH
NOAH
A rumbling purr draws my attention as I’m locking up the gym.
I turn to see a shiny black Ducati pulling up beside me, rider in all black leather gear and matte black helmet. As he pulls it off, I realize it’s Theo. I let out a low whistle of appreciation. “Hey man, I didn’t know you rode a bike. It’s beautiful.”
A smirk creeps onto his face. “I’m trying to fully live up to the sexy tattoo artist image. I thought the bike fit.”
I bark out a laugh. “You’re not wrong. You just heading out for a ride?” I ask as my eyes rake over the bike. It really is gorgeous, every part of it gleaming in the evening light.
“Heading out to Ciarán’s, gonna take him for a ride.”
I raise my brow at that, snickering. “A ride, huh?”
A hearty chuckle leaves him. “On the bike, get your head out of the gutter.”
I shake my head at him, laughing, but I can picture them easily—Ciarán behind him, clutching Theo’s jacket, talking too loud over the engine, laughing that infectious, chaotic laugh of his.
They’re more alike than I first realized. On the surface, they couldn’t look more different. But I can see the thread that ties them together—two men who build themselves out of art and attitude, who deflect with humor.
Different styles, same armor.
“Have fun,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets, grinning. “I’m heading home to Gabe.”
I love how that combination of words sounds together.
Theo’s grin softens, probably at the dopey look on my face. “Thanks, man, let’s do something during the week, yeah?”
“Definitely,” I say, bobbing my head.
He puts his helmet back on, and I watch him go.
I wonder if it’s a date. Gabe said Ciarán doesn’t really date, though.
Then the word date snags in my mind. I’ve assumed I’m dating Gabe. Is that what he thinks, too?
I think about all the quiet moments we’ve already shared—the way he makes me tea without asking, how his smile softens when he catches me watching him, how we end up orbiting each other in that tiny apartment like we’ve been doing it forever.
We haven’t done more than kiss, and still, it feels like something solid is growing stronger between us each day.
Dating doesn’t seem like the right word for it, though. What’s between us has always been more than that.
Dating sounds small, temporary—like it could end someday. My hand drifts up to the tattoo at the top of my spine, the top of the compass peeking above my shirt.
Gabe and I… we’re written in ink.
It’s permanent.
He’s part of me.
I glance down the street. The pull toward him is so strong, undeniable, calling me back to Evergreen.
Calling me home.
Evergreen is quiet when I step inside, the lights are off, and there’s no sign of Gabe downstairs. A faint sound carries from above, a chair scraping against the floor, and then his voice calls down, “I’m up here.”
I take the narrow stairs two at a time, the old wood creaking under my feet. The apartment is warm against the damp chill outside. He’s on the sofa, laptop already open in front of him.
Gabe’s sleeves are rolled up, his hair shoved back like he’s been fighting with it. There’s a little furrow between his brows, but when he sees me, it smooths.
“Hi,” he says, his eyes tracking me as I enter.
“Hi,” I echo, shutting the door behind me and stepping into the room.
I sit, close enough that our thighs press. He angles the laptop toward me, scowling faintly at it.
“I tried to get started without you, but I’m not good at this,” he mutters, fingers trailing along his scar. I catch his wrist lightly, and his eyes widen a fraction as I bring his hand to my mouth and press a kiss into his fingertips. Color rushes to his cheeks, and he blows out a slow breath.
“That’s not true,” I tell him. “You’re getting there.”
He lets out a breath and nods, then starts typing. “YA queer joy,” he mumbles as he types. “Trans memoir. Lesbian lit.” His fingers hover. “And… I think I might split romance into subgenres.”
“Good idea. That’s smart,” I say. “We could easily do that.”
His cheeks flush again. “You’ve said that a few times.” His voice dips. “We.”
I reach out and tip his chin until his gaze meets mine. “We,” I repeat resolutely. I graze my knuckles along his jaw, and he leans into my touch, eyes fluttering at the contact. He nods, “Yeah… we.”
The rain outside is soft now, just a light patter against the window. Gabe leans further into me, his arm brushing mine, and it feels like electricity under my skin.
“Thank you,” he says suddenly.
“For what?”
“For making this feel achievable.”
My throat works. “You were always going to do it. I’m just here for snacks and moral support.”
His mouth curves. “Sure. As if you’re not doing every step with me.”
I bump his shoulder lightly. “I’m being selfish, really. I get to spend more time with you this way.”
That earns me a quiet laugh, the kind I want to bottle up and keep.
“Plus,” I murmur, letting my fingers trace the delicate skin behind his ear. “We make a good team.”
He likes that, his cheeks go a beautiful rosy pink, and he looks down toward the keyboard, trying to hide his smile.
We work until the site starts to come together and we have a working home page. Gabe leans back, rubbing at the back of his neck, the crease between his brows deepening like the pressure of all this is still pressing on him.
I turn, closing the space between us. “Hey.”
His eyes flick to mine, and I reach out and smooth my thumb over that little furrow until it eases. “There you are,” I murmur.
The tips of his ears flush pink, and before he can duck his head, I lean in and press a slow kiss to his scarred cheek. He gasps, and when I pull back, color has spread all the way down his neck. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded.
“Noah.” My name escapes him on a needy sound that shoots straight to my cock. “Kiss me.”
It’s not a question, it’s a demand laced in softness.
The first brush of lips is soft, but it deepens quickly, his hand fisting in my shirt. I taste the faint sweetness of tea, feel his warm breath against my damp lips, and it’s enough to take me apart.
I cradle the back of his neck, thumb stroking, drawing him closer until our chests connect. I can feel his heart beating against me.
I’ve been careful until now, but heat sparks low under my skin. My palm slides down his side, over the line of his hip, settling on his thigh. The muscle jumps under my touch, so I give the lightest squeeze—
And he jolts so hard the kiss breaks.
His hand snaps over mine, grip tight, shoulders rigid.
I freeze, every muscle going still. My stomach drops, and I let go instantly, pulling my hand back to my lap. He’s breathing too fast, and it twists something deep in my chest. I fucked up. “Shit, Gabe. I’m sorry—”
“No. It’s okay.” His voice is level, but his shoulders are tense. He exhales, then reaches for me—his hand finding mine where it rests in my lap, lacing our fingers together and guiding them back to his thigh.
“I want that,” he says, softer now. “I do. It just… caught me off guard.”
My pulse is loud in my ears, part adrenaline, part the edge of fear that I did something to trigger him.
“You sure I didn’t hurt you?” My voice feels too loud.
“You didn’t. I promise.” His hand flexes in mine. “Just… don’t squeeze too hard, okay?”
The words make me feel like I’m sinking. I know exactly why he’s saying that, and bile rises at the thought. I keep my hand in his, letting him feel that I’m not going anywhere.
I don’t know if it’s the right thing to ask, but I need to know Gabe. I need to know how to be with him without hurting him. I’d never hurt him physically, but it’s his mind I’m most worried about right now. “Gabe… is this because of him? Your ex?”
His fingers tense around mine. He doesn’t answer right away, just stares at our joined hands, tracing the edge of my knuckle with his thumb like he’s stalling for courage. His eyes flick up, nervous but resolved. “Yeah…” He swallows roughly. “He… he…” He trails off, shaking his head.
My chest goes hot with anger, a surge that feels too big to hold.
I want to take every bad memory from him and burn them until there’s nothing left.
My other hand curls into a fist before I force myself to relax it.
I’ve never hit anyone in my life, but the urge to find that prick and make him pay for what he did to Gabe is strong.
I won’t, obviously. It’s not in my nature, but I wouldn’t be upset if I heard someone else beat the shit out of him.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I say, even though the visceral need to know and understand every part of him flares. I don’t want anything forced between us.
He squeezes my hand before speaking again.
“He wasn’t always bad to me. He was nice at the start, charming.
Everyone liked him.” He huffs and shakes his head.
“Everyone except Ciarán. Said he got weird vibes from him. And he was right.” He chews his lip before continuing.
“We were just friends for a good while before anything else. Even when we started dating, he treated me well. I don’t even know when it all changed.
” He blows out a breath. “Things went from bad to worse after my parents passed. Before that, he’d been off with me a lot, never in front of anyone.
Then he started drinking more than usual.
But… after I bought the store, it’s like that was a tipping point.
He was so much worse.” His shoulders sag, and he looks defeated. I hate it. “He started being cruel.”
His voice cracks on that last word, and my heart does, too.
“Gabe.” His name comes out in a rasp. “I’d never treat you like that. Not ever.”
His shoulders tense, and there’s something almost wary in his eyes, like he doesn’t know if he can believe me.
“I mean it,” I say, leaning in, letting him see the truth in my eyes. “And I’m going to prove it. However long it takes. You’ll never have to wonder with me.”
I hold his gaze, making sure he sees that it’s not just something I’m saying but something I’ve already decided, a vow nailed into place.
“No one gets to hurt you again,” I add with all the conviction I feel. “Ever.”
He must see the truth in my eyes as some of the tightness in his shoulders eases. He squeezes my hand, voice barely above a whisper. “I know you won’t hurt me.” He leans forward until his forehead rests against mine, his breath ghosts across my skin.
I keep him close and kiss him again, tenderly this time. Letting him lead, letting him feel safe in it. The tension bleeds out of him with every pass of lips. My knuckles skim his cheeks, jaw, neck. My other hand is still in his, tracing patterns over his skin.
When we pause for air, he stays right where he is, pressed close, eyes soft and open.
“I’m okay,” he murmurs, so quiet I almost miss it. Then even softer, “With you… I feel safe.”
The words slam into me like a weight I want to hold forever. He’s not just saying he trusts me, he’s giving me something irreplaceable. Something I’d protect with my last breath.
I press a kiss to his hair, breathing him in. “That’s all I want, Gabe. To keep you safe.”