Chapter 19 #2
“Clearly I’m a dumbass and sent that last bit.
What I wanted to say is that… Em, I cannot stop thinking about your mouth.
The sounds you made. The way you tasted.
How you clung to me and kissed me back. I’ve never in my entire life had a kiss like that.
That is what I wanted to say. Okay, thanks, bye, have a great day. ”
The audio cut off, and I realized I’d been holding my breath the entire time.
No one had ever explained their feelings to me like that before.
Not without asking me to fix their situation or reassure them or promise to not be upset with them, once again, always keeping everyone else’s peace over my own.
He wasn’t dumping emotional responsibility in my lap—he was handing me context, like a gift he trusted me to hold.
I didn’t overthink it and instead hit record to send back to him.
“Hi, thank you for being honest with me about that. And while I can’t say I’ve kissed a lot of men,” I cleared my throat, letting him know I was teasing, “I keep thinking about our kiss too. And I know I need to share my feelings with you too, and I will. I…never shut down. I always worry about everyone else and what they need, to the point that my own thoughts and needs get lost. I lose myself sometimes, and I hate it. I…want to be myself and not what everyone else wants me to be.” My voice cracked, and I shook my head, forcing myself to not cry.
“Okay, I gotta go. Have a great practice, Noah.”
My phone buzzed again before I parked. Another audio message.
“Okay. Hi again.”
His voice sounded a little more sheepish this time, softer around the edges. I could picture his half smile, his dimple popping out.
“This one feels… slightly more terrifying to say out loud, but I promised I’d be honest. And I know my schedule makes it harder, so this is my way of trying.”
I shifted in my seat, one hand still on the wheel, the other tightening around my phone. There was something about the way he said that—terrifying—that made me listen with my whole body.
“Something that scares me in relationships is disappointing people. Like—really disappointing them. Not messing up once but realizing I can’t be what they hoped for long-term.”
I swallowed, my chest tightening.
“Football kind of trained me to believe that if I work harder, everything evens out. But people don’t work like that. You can’t grind your way into emotional security or trust or feelings.”
I closed my eyes, his words pressing into places that felt too familiar.
“I’m trying to unlearn that. Slowly. And so you know—if you ever need space, or quiet, or time to think, that doesn’t read as rejection to me. Just be honest with me. That’s all I want. Because damn, Em, you’re worth it. I want the real you too.”
There was a pause, long enough that I wondered if traffic had swallowed him again.
“If you need time to adjust…to us. Well, us trying this thing. I won’t panic. I’ll wait.”
My throat tightened painfully, the kind of ache that came from realizing something had been missing for a long time.
I rested my forehead against the wheel, blinking fast and breathing through it.
Waiting was not something men had ever offered me before.
Silence, in my experience, always came with consequences—coldness, punishment, wandering attention that made you feel replaceable.
Hearing him say I’ll wait so plainly, without conditions or expectations attached, cracked something open in my chest that I hadn’t realized I’d been protecting for years.
I parked and headed upstairs. My mind replayed his voice, the steadiness underneath the nerves, the way he wasn’t asking me to reassure him or soften the edges of his truth. He was just letting me see him.
The rest of the morning passed in fragments.
I answered emails and adjusted seam lines, made notes I wasn’t sure I’d remember why I wrote later.
I pretended not to see a notification from my dad sitting unopened like a threat in my inbox.
I almost convinced myself the day was manageable until my phone rang around noon with a number I recognized too well.
Building management.
Five more weeks. Maybe six. Something about mold remediation and permits and insurance approvals that translated, roughly, to sorry about your life. I thanked them, hung up, and sat on the edge of the couch with my hands braced on either side of me.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t spiral. I felt tired in that deep, bone-level way that had followed me for the last year or two. I stared at my phone for a long moment before texting Noah. I never responded to his audio, and thinking about doing that had my stomach fluttering again.
Me: Just heard from building mgmt. Looks like at least five more weeks until it’s ready.
I set the phone down and forced myself to eat something instead of pacing.
Another audio buzzed in while I was halfway through a deeply unmotivated peanut butter sandwich. My stomach swooped, and I loved that he was sending me audios, like how Audrey and I usually communicated.
“Hi again. Third message, I swear I’ll stop after this.”
There was a soft laugh under the words, familiar and wonderful. I loved that deep chuckle, the one where his eyes lit up and he often slapped his knee.
“I’m sitting in my car, and I smell like a locker room, so you’re welcome for sparing you a FaceTime.”
I smiled into my sleeve despite myself.
“I realized I never told you what actually makes me feel safe with someone.”
A pause, quieter now.
“It’s not big gestures or constant reassurance. It’s consistency. It’s knowing I don’t have to perform or explain myself every day. It’s when someone notices the small stuff and doesn’t keep score about it.”
My chest warmed in a way that surprised me.
“You do that. You always have.”
Then, lighter—almost conspiratorial:
“Also—important and unrelated—I remembered you hate black olives and will absolutely eat around them instead of picking them off, which is unhinged behavior, but I respect it.”
I laughed out loud, the sound startling in the quiet apartment, then immediately pressed my lips together when my eyes filled.
The olive thing was stupid. It was nothing.
It was also proof that he’d been paying attention to me for years without expecting anything back, and that realization landed harder than any grand romantic gesture ever could have.
“Anyway, I love olives, so it’s a great reason why we’ll work.
You give them to me. I’ll pick up everything you don’t like, Em.
I want to be that for you. Also, if Quinn mentions your name one more time I might kill him.
” He paused, then, his voice deepened. “Please delete this audio so there is no evidence. Okay, bye. Sorry I turned these into a podcast.”
I couldn’t stop the blush or the grin overtaking my face.
There was zero reason for Noah to feel anything close to jealousy, but it was there and flagrant and did something to my stomach.
I wasn’t into games, but no other guy ever acted like that around me.
Not my ex or the few, and I meant few, guys I dated more than a handful of times.
I wasn’t so confident in our relationship that jealousy didn’t matter, but it was more…
I wasn’t worth enough for them to feel jealous.
Like I was so replaceable that I didn’t matter.
I ignored the texts from my dad asking me to come home for dinner and Daniel’s with a list of questions about Noah and hit record back to Noah.
“If you ever did make a podcast, I’d listen to it every morning for the record.
I love your voice. I always have. It’s been a place of comfort and is…
like, coming home after being away for a long time.
I’m glad you like olives and will eat them for me.
And Quinn is a doofus. He’s harmless, so don’t kill him.
Despite how much he annoys you, he is a great quarterback.
” I chuckled and played with the ends of my hair, then rolled my eyes at myself.
“I don’t have concrete answers to those questions, and I’m sorry for that.
I’ll think on them. I want to give them to you, but it’s hard.
And terrifying.” My voice broke at the end.
“Okay, I’m pathetic. I need to finish my work and get Miles. See you later.”
I put my phone face down and focused for a solid two hours, managing my online business as well as the Rampage. Orders had been slowly increasing over the past week, roughly ten more a day. The growth wasn’t massive, but the extra demand meant I could work around the clock if I chose.
Noah: Never insult yourself around me.
Noah: You feel like home too, Em.
Well shit. Any hope I had at protecting my heart shattered.