Chapter 25
GABE
We stay like that for a while, my face pressed into his neck, his hands gently running up and down my spine.
I sink into the warmth of him, the gentleness of his touch.
This is the safest I’ve ever felt, the most cared for.
This feeling of completeness is so foreign to me, and I never want this moment to end.
It's like I’ve stepped into the safest space in the world.
But I know it won’t last, I’m too damaged to keep him forever.
No matter how much I want to. He’s a bright light; I’m hidden shadows.
But maybe I can keep him for a little while…
until he’s done with me. Until he realizes how bad things can get for me.
Maybe if I can just hide things better. The thought sits sour in my stomach.
I don’t want to hide anything from him, but I’m terrified to show him everything.
I push back the emotions threatening to drag me under and hold on to him tighter.
Noah presses one last kiss to my forehead and murmurs, “Come on, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I blink at him, still dazed, but he’s already helping me stand and tugging me toward the bathroom. I let him lead me, my legs are like jelly.
Heat creeps up my neck when I see our combined release on my stomach. I reach for a towel to take care of it before he can.
“I can—” I start.
But Noah takes it and dampens it under the tap. “Let me.” His tone is soft but certain.
The first swipe of the warm cloth makes my face flame. No one’s ever done this for me. Nobody has ever taken care of me like this.
“You don’t have to.” I whisper.
“I know, but I want to take care of you.” He glances up, catching my eye with an easy smile.
Something flutters low in me, not arousal but something heavier. My embarrassment fades, replaced by warmth, by a feeling so big I don’t have words for.
I let him wipe me down carefully, even when it makes me squirm, my mind trying to catalog every careful touch as if it might be snatched away.
By the time he’s done, my body feels loose again, like the last of the tension dissolved with every tender touch.
“You okay?” he asks, thumb brushing over my hip.
I nod, throat thick. Nobody’s ever made me feel like this—not just wanted, but worth lingering over.
The thought makes something proud flare in me—I let him in, I wanted him, I made the first move and I didn’t break.
But the pride is tangled with doubt that comes as quickly.
Why would someone like Noah choose this? Choose me?
I curl my toes against the cold tiles, grounding myself, trying to quiet the whisper that he’ll realize I’m not worth the effort.
I nod again, nose stinging, overwhelmed by the moment. “Yeah. I… like this.”
Noah’s grin is pleased as he presses a kiss to my lips. “Good. Because I like it too, and I don’t intend to stop.”
The thought of him choosing to do this every time, to take care of me, settles deep. It makes me feel treasured. But it’s also terrifying. I want to believe him, even as that other voice hisses that it won’t last, that I’m not enough. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
When I look at him again, he’s already watching me.
Not in the sharp way Kyle used to, not like he’s looking for flaws.
The look is so open, like he wants to see all the parts of me.
My fingers twitch restlessly at my sides, itching to fidget with something, to touch my scar, but I breathe through it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I mutter, feeling shy because of show warm it makes me feel.
“Like what?” His voice is playful but careful.
“Like I’m…” Words fail me. Worth something. Worth him. They’re too heavy to say.
“Perfect?” he offers.
The word is sweet and painful at once, scraping against every scar left behind. A wet, disbelieving laugh slips out of me.
Perfect is a word for someone else—someone who can be happy every day. Someone easy. Someone like Noah.
“I’m not…” My voice breaks, and the sound is ugly. I’m not perfect. I’m too much and not enough all at once. Messy. Nervous. Scarred—inside and out. If he knew how dark my thoughts get some days, how small I can make myself, maybe he wouldn’t look at me like that.
Noah’s expression shifts, teasing gone, and he reaches up to cradle my face. His thumb strokes under my cheekbone, gently holding me in place so I can’t look away.
“You are to me, Gabe,” he says, voice sure. “Always have been. Always will be.”
My throat goes tight again as my eyes sting. The words hit where it’s raw and tender, and it feels like they could split me wide open. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I’ll mess this up somehow, that perfect isn’t something I’ll ever be—but all that comes out is a shaky exhale.
I let him hold my face until the worst of the feelings pass, until I feel like me again. I tuck his words somewhere safe, even if I don’t believe them yet—maybe I never will. But for now, I let myself bask in the way he says it, like he’s not just stating a fact but a promise, too.
We stay like that until the buzzing in my body settles. Then he nudges my arm, smirking lightly. “Come on. Kitchen raid.”
I shake my head, biting back a grin. “Oreos?”
“Oreos,” he promises, holding out a hand.
I take it without hesitation.