CHAPTER 12. Connor #2
“I think I’m going to head back,” Maya announces, stretching dramatically. “I have to drive back to the city in the morning, and my flight’s after lunch.”
“Yeah,” Cassidy says, stifling a yawn. “We should get some sleep before the drive back.”
A ripple of agreement moves through the group, and I feel a pang of regret. I’m not ready to leave this place. Not ready to break the spell of the past few days.
But there’s nothing I can do.
Everyone starts gathering mugs and plates, shaking out blankets. Daniel kicks dirt over the fire until it’s reduced to glowing embers, and we carry everything back into the Main Cottage.
Inside, everyone bunches up near the front door, passing mugs toward the kitchen and making plans for tomorrow. Since half the group is leaving early, the goodbyes start there—messy and overlapping, with promises to text after the drive and complaints about having to beat the morning traffic.
Brad and Maria are the first to leave, hugging everyone before heading out into the dark.
Maya hugs Noah next, hard enough to make him laugh, then hugs me too. When she pulls back, she points at me like she’s already decided something about me.
“You,” she says. “Breakfast at eight.”
“Aren’t you driving to the city early?” I ask, smirking at her.
“I am, but I’m not driving on an empty stomach,” she says with a snort.
“I’ll be there,” I say.
“Good,” she says, then heads upstairs.
Noah gives me a surprised look, like he can’t believe his sister and I are this friendly already. Thankfully, Caroline pulls him into a hug before he can ask.
She murmurs something into his ear, too quiet for me to catch, and his face softens.
Then she turns to me.
“We’ll see you in the morning, right?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say, nodding. “I already promised Maya I’d have breakfast with her.”
Caroline chuckles and leans in to kiss my cheek. It’s nothing—a quick, warm press of her lips—but my throat closes anyway.
I blink hard, trying to force the sudden tears back before Noah notices.
But when I glance up, he’s already watching me over her shoulder. I smile at him, and he smiles back, but there’s worry in his eyes.
When Caroline lets me go, Daniel steps in next. He tells me to sleep well and gives me a quick hug before turning to Noah.
Only then do I look around and realize it’s just the four of us left in the cottage. Which means Rick and Cassidy are gone too.
For a moment, relief moves through me.
Did Rick leave? Did Noah decide against talking to him after all?
But when we walk down the steps of the cottage, I see Rick standing there in the dark, his back pressed against the side of the building.
Waiting.
My jaw clenches.
Noah sees him too. He nods at him once, then turns to me, his eyes catching the light from the cottage.
“You go,” he says, his voice low. “I’ll be back soon. I just need to…” He nods over his shoulder, and my heart gives an unpleasant flip.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
What can I say?
Don’t go?
Don’t talk to him?
Don’t fall back in love with your ex who clearly wants you back?
I have no right to ask any of that of him.
“I won’t be long,” Noah promises, squeezing my hand. “Wait up for me?”
“Sure,” I say, the word rough in my throat.
I watch him walk up to Rick and say something quietly. Then they both head back toward the shore, where smoke still coils from the remains of the fire. My chest feels hollow, like someone has scooped out everything inside me and left nothing but the ache.
I turn toward the cottage, my mind racing through every possible version of what they’re going to say to each other.
Will Rick apologize? Declare his love? Ask Noah to take him back?
And what will Noah say in response?
I let myself into the cottage, the silence closing in around me, and go upstairs to our room. Without Noah, the space feels wrong somehow. Painfully empty.
I’ve never been the type to get attached to places fast. Or people. I’ve always prided myself on my independence, my ability to be fine on my own.
But in the span of three days, Noah Caldwell has carved out a space inside me that I don’t know how to fill if he’s not there.
I should shower. Pack. Do something productive with this time.
But all I can do is sit there, listening for footsteps on the path outside, wondering if Noah is going to come back to me tonight.
And if he does, whether he’ll still be mine to hold for one last time.
***
I wake with a start, jerking upright in bed.
For a second, I don’t know what woke me. Then I hear it—the soft click of the door closing downstairs.
My heart slams against my ribs as I fumble for my phone.
4:57 AM.
Jesus Christ.
Noah.
I’ve been in and out of a restless half-sleep for hours, checking my phone every twenty minutes like some kind of obsessive teenager, listening for footsteps that never came.
Until now.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, suddenly wide awake despite barely sleeping. My shirt is twisted around my torso, damp with sweat, but I don’t bother fixing it.
A floorboard creaks on the stairs.
I hold my breath, trying to force my heart to slow down.
Four and a half hours.
Noah’s been gone for four and a half fucking hours.
After the first hour, I texted him. After the second, I called, but he didn’t pick up. A minute later, he sent back a brief I’m fine, go to sleep, and my stomach twisted into a knot that still hasn’t loosened.
Go to sleep. As if I could possibly sleep while he was out there with Rick, doing God knows what. I almost went looking for them. I even put my shoes on and got as far as the door before talking myself out of it.
Because what if I found them together?
What if they were—
The door to our room opens slowly, and there he is.
Noah stands in the doorway, his shoulders slumped, his face turned down. Even in the dim light filtering through the curtains, I can see his eyes are red, his face blotchy from crying.
My heart drops so fast I feel physically ill.
“Noah,” I say, my voice cracking on his name.
He looks up at me, and the pain in his eyes knocks the air from my lungs.
Before I can think, I’m crossing the room in three quick strides.
Noah makes a broken sound when I reach him, and then we’re both moving at once—my arms closing around him as his come around me. I pull him tight to my chest, feeling his body tremble against mine.
“It’s okay,” I murmur into his hair, though I have no idea if it is. “I’ve got you.”
Noah presses his face into the crook of my neck, his arms squeezing me tighter like I’m the only thing keeping him upright. He’s trying not to sob. I can feel it in the way he holds his breath, in the way his chest keeps hitching against mine as he tries to contain it.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. My heart is hammering so hard I’m sure he can feel it. “Are you okay?”
Noah shakes his head, and a fresh wave of tears spills over. “I need—” His voice breaks. “I need to get out of here. I can’t be here anymore.”
I pull back just enough to look at his face, searching his tear-streaked features for some clue to what happened. My mind races through every awful possibility. What did Rick say to him? What did he do?
“You want to leave?” I ask carefully. “We can go home now, if you want.”
Noah stares at me for a long, silent moment, his dark eyes glassy in the dim light. Then he nods, a tiny, miserable movement.
“Please,” he whispers.
“Okay,” I say immediately, even as my stomach twists with anxiety. “Let’s go.”
I brush a tear from his cheek with my thumb. Then I remember.
“Should we tell your parents? Maya? They’ll be waiting for us at breakfast.”
Noah steps back from me and shakes his head, tears still streaming down his face. “No,” he whispers, voice raw. “I can’t. I don’t want to see anyone. I’ll text them from the car.”
His hands are trembling, fingers twisting the hem of his shirt.
“Okay,” I say gently. “Okay, Noah. Let’s pack our things, then.”
He nods, but he doesn’t move.
I watch him, trying to stay calm, to be the one holding it together, but my heart is pounding so hard it’s making me dizzy. He can’t stop crying. He’s trying—I can see him fighting it, swallowing hard between sobs, wiping roughly at his face—but the tears just keep coming.
Something is very, very wrong.
“Hey,” I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intend. I clear my throat and try again. “Did Rick—did he hurt you?”
The question hangs between us, heavy with everything I’m too afraid to say out loud. Did he force himself on you? Did he hurt you physically? The thought of anyone touching Noah without his consent makes rage tear through me so fast it scares me.
“No,” Noah says quickly, shaking his head. “No, God, no. He’s not like that.” He draws a shaky breath. “It’s not that.”
Relief crashes through me, though it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. If Rick didn’t hurt him, why is Noah falling apart like this?
“Let’s pack our things,” I say again, because it’s the only concrete thing I can offer right now. “We can be on the road in ten minutes.”
Noah nods, wiping his nose on his sleeve. The gesture is so vulnerable, so unguarded, it makes my chest ache. I want to wrap him in my arms again and never let go, but that won’t get us out of here faster.
Instead, I grab my bag and start shoving clothes inside.
We pack in silence, the only sounds our quick breaths and Noah’s occasional sniffling. I move on autopilot—shirts, pants, toiletries—while keeping one eye on Noah, who’s folding the same T-shirt over and over, his hands shaking so badly he can’t get it right.
“I’ve got it,” I say softly.
I take it from his hands and help him with the rest of his things.
“Thanks,” Noah whispers when we finish, and the brokenness in that single word makes me want to go into the room next to us and punch the shit out of Rick’s smug face.
What has that asshole done?
I can’t stop the terrible scenarios playing through my head. What did Rick say to him? What could possibly have happened to shatter Noah like this? Did he reject him again? Did he say he’ll still marry Cassidy?