17. Dorian - August
SEVENTEEN
Dorian - August
I’M STILL FINE - THE RED CLAY STRAYS
As we stood in the doorway, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. She carried herself with such strength despite all that surrounded her.
The agents questioned Noah for over an hour, dissecting her relationship with John like surgeons, peeling back layers she’d spent so long trying to seal. She’d agreed to the questioning, wanting him locked up, but watching her relive those memories unsettled something in me. Every time she spoke about it, I felt like I was selfishly unraveling right alongside her.
“Thank you for your time,” Lilah said as she turned toward the others. Her voice carried a polite detachment, though there was something softer in the way she looked at Noah.
“Detective Dodge,” Colt said to Lilah, his voice curt as he nodded.
“Detective James.” Her jaw tightened, but she held his gaze for a moment before turning on her heels to follow the agents out.
“I’m headed out, too,” he said, giving Noah a brief but meaningful nod. “Take care.”
His footsteps faded into silence, leaving us alone in the doorway. Noah stood still beside me, arms crossed and gaze far away.
I turned and took the opportunity to observe her, trying to understand how she managed to hold it all together. She was so good at hiding it—like she could push everything down and not let it affect her relationships with the people she cared about. She was always so present for Gracie, Dotty, even me. But I’d seen the cracks before. I’d been there when she couldn’t hold it together—like months ago in the hospital, even when we barely knew each other. And later, when she let the weight of it all show for a moment before locking it away again.
But seeing her like this, distant and lost in thought, I realized just how much she was carrying and how much she did alone.
And I hated it.
I wanted to reach for her, to take some of the weight off her shoulders. But I wasn’t sure if she’d let me or if I’d be able to let her go once I did.
A bird’s call snapped her out of her trance. She dropped her arms, but her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. Her posture was rigid, but then, in a subtle move, her pinky brushed against mine. And that slight touch was both a question and an answer, an unspoken plea that neither of us was ready to address.
“You okay?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she rotated the rings on her fingers, lost in some thought.
“Sometimes,” she said finally, her voice so quiet it almost didn’t reach me, “I wonder if I’ll ever escape this. If it’ll ever really be behind me.”
“You will.”
“I let him into my life, into my home.” Her voice cracked, her words trembling. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t see him for what he really was.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. My hand moved instinctively, brushing a stray curl from her face. Her skin was warm against my fingertips.
She flinched slightly, but didn’t move away.
“Noah, you can’t punish yourself for what he did,” I said gently. “He fooled everyone, not just you.”
For a second, I thought she might believe me. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
It was impossible not to notice the way her mouth moved, the subtle twitch of her lips, the way she drew in a breath like she was steadying herself. I felt myself leaning closer without realizing it, drawn to her in a way that defied logic.
“You can’t keep blaming yourself,” I said, my voice firmer now. Reaching out, I linked her fingers through mine and squeezed gently. “You’re the victim here, Noah.”
Her lips quivered as she shook her head. “No, I’m not ,” she said, pulling her hand from mine. “The victims are the women he murdered. The ones who lost their lives. Their families—the mothers, children, husbands, wives. They suffered. Not me.” Her words came faster now, tinged with anger and guilt. “I was barely a step away from being complicit.”
“He was a master manipulator. He built lies so perfectly crafted you never had a chance to see through them. This isn’t your fault. None of it is.”
Her breath hitched. “But what if you’re wrong? What if I missed something? What if?—”
“Noah, stop.” I cut her off, spinning her gently to face me and tilting her chin up so her eyes met mine. “He’s the monster, not you.”
She stared at me for a long moment and then nodded. But the fear in her eyes didn’t fade. It was still there, lurking beneath the surface, a constant reminder of the hell she’d been through.
“I don’t understand this. I don’t understand why he did this or how he did this or if I could have stopped it. I don’t understand how a boy I met at fifteen, charming and smart, liked me, then decided to grow into a man who is capable of all this.” Her arms flung out to her sides, but I let my thumb trace idle circles along her cheek.
“You know, someone really smart once told me, you’re allowed to be angry, to be confused, and to not know how to process it. It’s okay not to have it all figured out right now.”
“I just… feel like I’m too broken to fix now,” she whispered.
“You’re not broken. You’re stronger than you think, Noah. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Her gaze dropped briefly to my mouth, and at first, I thought I might have imagined it when she met my eyes again.
I could see the way her jaw tightened, like she was fighting with herself. But then it happened again, lingering this time. Her eyes darted back up to meet mine, wide and uncertain, but she didn’t pull away.
Instead, she bit her bottom lip—just a small, nervous tug—and my chest tightened.
And fuck, I wanted to kiss her.
To kiss her and tell her it would all be okay. That somehow, I’d make sure she came out of this safe, and he ended up behind bars where he belonged.
But we were playing with fire, both of us.
I could see it in her eyes—not only fear of John, but fear of this, of us. And she wasn’t the only one who was scared. That fear twisted in me too, an ache I couldn’t ignore. I was terrified of what would happen if I gave in, if I let myself feel everything I’d been trying so hard to bury.
I couldn’t risk it.
I needed to be her support, her protection, not someone who confused her more than she already was.
I dropped my hands, clenching my fists to give them something to do before I pulled her back to me and found out just what it’d feel like to give in.
“We can’t,” I said. “Not right now.” I pulled back, my chest tight.
Her face fell.
“Shit, Noah. It’s not that I don’t want to. Fuck , I want to kiss you every second of every damn day. I think of nothing except your lips all day, every day. But you’ve had a hell of a day, and I don’t want this kiss to be one more thing you’ll have to question later. I should go.”
I wanted her to kiss me, to really want me. But I wanted her to when it wasn’t about him, or today, or any of this mess.
“Yeah… You’re right,” she whispered.
Her eyes followed me, that same uncertainty lingering there. For a second, I thought she might say something, maybe even stop me.
But she didn’t.
And so, I stepped back again.
Because if I didn’t put distance between us, I was afraid there would be no going back.
I walked away, each step dragging me further from the porch and her. I turned for one last look to see she hadn’t moved, her eyes fixed on me. This felt wrong, leaving her like this. But staying would only make it worse.
“Take care, Noah,” I muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear, and opened my truck door.
And with that, I was gone. But I knew damn well that I wasn’t leaving her behind. Not really. Because no matter how far I went, how hard I tried to run, she was always there. Haunting my thoughts. Plaguing my dreams.