Chapter 20 #3
“Did you borrow money?”
“Not from anyone personally.”
“Credit?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Manageable if the claim pays within the next month.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“I delay the expansion. Negotiate with the bank. Sell nonessential equipment.”
“What counts as nonessential?”
“A backup generator. One of the storage trailers.”
“Your station wagon.”
“No.”
“You thought about it.”
I did not answer quickly enough.
Noah’s jaw tightened.
“What do I own that could be sold?”
“Nothing is being sold.”
“Mercy.”
“No.”
“She must be worth something.”
“Noah.”
“I can’t use her now.”
“She is yours.”
“She is ours.”
His voice sharpened.
“If we need money—”
“We do not need to sell the boat.”
“You might sell your car.”
“I will not.”
“You would.”
“Not before other options.”
“And you would protect everything that belongs to me while giving up your own.”
“I would protect what matters to you.”
“Mercy matters to the man I was.”
“She mattered to us.”
“I don’t remember her.”
“You felt her today.”
He looked away.
“I could let her go.”
“I couldn’t.”
The truth surprised both of us.
I shifted closer.
“We rebuilt that boat together. I know the missing memories mean she does not hold the same significance for you, but she still does for me. Selling her would not be a sensible financial decision. It would be fear pretending to be one.”
Noah’s eye shone.
“I don’t want you carrying this alone.”
“I’m not. Caleb and Owen know. Dr. Whitcomb knows. You know.”
“I can’t fix it.”
“You are not required to fix every problem you learn about.”
“I used to help.”
“You are helping.”
“How?”
“You returned to the loft. You completed work we can invoice. You made me stop hiding the truth. You came here with me.”
“That doesn’t pay the supplier.”
“No.”
I raised his hand and pressed it against my chest.
“This kept beating when I thought you might die. The yard did not matter then.”
“It matters now.”
“Yes.”
“So do the people who work there.”
“Yes.”
“And you.”
“Yes.”
His palm remained over my heart.
“I would make sacrifices for the business,” I said. “I would work nights. Delay plans. Sell equipment. I would not trade your security for a cleaner balance sheet.”
Noah swallowed.
“You make it difficult to argue.”
“You have never found that difficult.”
His mouth moved into a faint smile.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
“When Dr. Whitcomb talked about discharge, I almost chose a rehabilitation apartment.”
I knew.
Hearing it still hurt.
“I thought going home with you would be unfair,” he continued. “You loved someone I couldn’t remember being.”
The wind pushed at his hair.
“I worried every room would ask something from me.”
“Did they?”
“At first.”
I waited.
“But you didn’t.”
His fingers curled against my shirt.
“You made space for me before I understood what space I needed. You moved out of your bed. You asked before touching me. You told me I could leave.”
“You still can.”
“I know.”
He turned toward me fully.
“That’s why I’m staying.”
My breath caught.
“Noah.”
“I chose your apartment because you felt safe. I chose your bed because I slept better beside you. I chose the yard because I knew the work.”
He took a breath.
“I’m choosing you now because I know you.”
I could not speak.
His voice became less steady.
“Not all of you. Not six years. But enough to know what I want.”
“What do you want?”
He gave me a nervous smile.
“A word.”
“What word?”
“Boyfriend sounds too young.”
“It does.”
“Partner sounds like we’re discussing taxes.”
“We often are.”
“Stop.”
I smiled despite the pressure in my chest.
Noah rubbed his thumb across my knuckles.
“I want us to be together because I said yes today. Not because a photograph says we were.”
“We are dating.”
“I know.”
“I sleep in our bed.”
“Yes.”
“We kiss in the workshop.”
“Frequently.”
He looked exasperated.
“Reid.”
I waited.
“Will you be my partner?”
Emotion crowded my chest until I could barely speak.
I touched his face.
“Yes.”
His eye filled immediately.
“Just yes?”
“Yes, Noah.”
I leaned closer.
“I want to be your partner. I want this life with you. The one we have now.”
A small laugh escaped him.
“I thought you’d make a speech.”
“I can.”
“No.”
“Too late.”
He caught the front of my coat.
I kissed him before either of us could lose control of the moment.
The kiss tasted faintly of chowder, coffee, and salt air.
Noah laughed against my mouth.
I held his face between my hands, gentler than the happiness inside me.
He kissed me again.
Then again, as if the decision needed repeating in touch.
When we separated, his cheeks were bright from cold and emotion.
“You’re my boyfriend,” he said.
“Partner.”
“Boyfriend when I want to annoy you.”
“Then nothing has changed.”
“No.”
His expression softened.
“Something has.”
The wind carried our breath away.
I pressed my forehead to his.
“Everything has.”
His energy vanished soon after.
I saw it in the delay before he answered a question and the way his right eyelid lowered faster than the left.
We packed without discussion.
At the car, he accepted help instead of arguing.
He slept before we reached the first coastal turn.