Chapter 21
Emma
A few hours and more than a couple of cuss words later, all of the furniture is assembled and set up in the room. Noah and I sit next to each other on the floor, our backs resting against the wall, finishing up the last of our salads I ordered. I really wanted pizza, but Noah wouldn’t have it, saying it was too salty for me.
With my heart racing and my palms sweaty, I swallow the lump in my throat and muster the courage to rip the Band-Aid off. “Can I ask you something?”
“Absolutely,” he replies without hesitation. Turning his head to look at me, he gives me all of his attention.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me in the hospital… about your brother. Can you tell me about him? That must have been so hard to lose someone at such a young age.”
He lowers his gaze down to his lap, contemplating his words. “It was. It still is," he says eventually, his voice thick. "His name was Henry.” Taking a deep breath, he continues. “He was the good brother out of the three of us. The sensitive, sweet, and generous one. He had the kindest soul I’ve ever known and would do anything for anyone.”
Feeling his pain, I place my hand on his thigh, hoping to provide some comfort and encourage him to continue. He stares blankly at the wall, lost in his thoughts. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, it may be too painful for him to think about.
Noah takes another deep breath, and the pain in his voice sends a chill through me. “He was in high school at the time, only fourteen years old. Marcus was twenty, still a kid himself. As for me, I was twenty-six, already navigating adulthood and living on my own. Marcus was living on campus, enjoying the college experience. Henry, our youngest brother, still lived with our parents, alone." Noah grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers together on his thigh.
"One day, I get a call from my mother. She was hysterical, I had never heard her like that before. 'Get to the house NOW' she screamed through the phone. When I arrived, she was already waiting for me in the driveway. Her face was pale and she was shaking so bad. I had no idea what was going on but I was terrified. She led me straight to the backyard and just pointed, she didn’t say a word. Beneath the old oak tree, a body laid there. I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing so I moved closer.”
I shift closer to Noah’s side, desperate to ease the pain from his memory, as the color drains from his face. I squeeze his forearm with my other hand and begin rubbing his arm in an attempt to soothe him.
“I got closer to the body until I saw a gun laying on the ground next to it. The face was completely unrecognizable, disfigured beyond belief,” he continues, his voice barely a whisper. “But I recognized the infamous shoes Henry always wore, and I knew right away…” his voice trails off. “My mother still hadn’t even called 911 yet.”
“Oh my God. No one should ever have to see something like that,” I murmur. Chills take over my body as the horror settles in my bones.
“No, they shouldn't," he agrees, a bitter sadness cloaks his voice. "That kind of thing stays with you, it haunts you. I can still see him laying there clear as day when I close my eyes at night.” His jaw clenches, “I never forgave my mother for putting me through that, and I will always resent my father for not coming home. His business trip was more important than helping me plan a funeral apparently. My mother couldn’t handle it, and with me being the oldest, I had to step in and carry the weight of making all the arrangements. I haven’t talked to either one of them since the funeral. They were lousy parents.”
Tears fall down my cheeks silently, the enormity of his grief is too much. “And you believe he did it because of your father?” I ask softly.
“Oh, I know he did. It was hell living in that house. I got Marcus out of there as soon as I could. The minute he graduated, I moved him into the dorm rooms on campus and paid for it myself. Henry was too young to live with me legally. If he'd been older, I would have taken him too. If I could turn back time, I would have stayed in that house and protected him until he turned eighteen.”
“Don’t blame yourself for that," I say gently, looking deep into his eyes. "You had a life to live, too— “
“And what about his life?” His voice raises, raw and filled with pain. “He had such a bright future ahead of him, and then it was snuffed out in the blink of an eye. I was the big brother. They both looked up to me their whole lives. I should have protected him. I knew what it was like to live in that house and I still left him there.”
The anguish in his voice takes the pain in my chest to a whole new level. Unable to bear the pain anymore, I straddle his lap, wrap my arms around him, and hold him. He buries his face in my neck and holds me back, his breath hot and shaky against my skin. We stay in each other's arms in silence for several minutes.
“I am so sorry for your loss, Noah," I whisper against his neck. He tightens his hold on me in response, burying deeper into the embrace.
"And that’s why you don’t want to be a father?" I continue, treading the subject carefully. "You’re worried something like this could happen again?”
“That’s a pretty damn good reason to not want kids, don’t you agree?” he asks bitterly. The muscles in his jaw tighten once again as he leans his head back against the wall, breaking from our embrace.
“It is a very valid reason," I acknowledge. My fingers brush delicately over his jaw, feeling the hard edges. "But I know you’re nothing like your father.”
He shakes his head vigorously, a dark storm filling his eyes. “You don’t know me. You don’t understand the kind of darkness I carry from my childhood.”
“You’re wrong, Noah. I know you better than you think. I see the good in you all the time," I insist urgently. "You’re spending your Saturday night with me, putting together furniture for another man’s baby! You care about my well-being, what I eat, if I’m resting. You even gave me extra paid time off just because of my morning sickness! Does that really sound like your dad to you?"
He grimaces. “Yes, it does actually. When my mother was pregnant with me and their relationship was still intact and new, I've heard he was a very attentive partner. The stress of having children changed him.”
“Noah!” I say exasperated. “You’re making excuses because you’re scared of jumping in with both feet, and I totally get that. But your father was a bad person long before the stress of kids, he was just good at hiding it. Using innocent children as an excuse for his horrible behavior is ridiculous. I have no doubts about the kind of man you are.”
I hold his gaze, willing him to see my sincerity. "You are not him,” I say, softly laying a quick peck to his lips.
Noah turns his head away, his gaze fixed out the window. “I don’t know what to do, Emma. I care about you so much, but I can’t ignore the fact that you’re having a baby. I didn’t plan for this!” His frustration grows.
“I didn’t plan for this either,” I whisper. “I certainly didn’t plan to fall in love with you.”
His back stiffens. “Please don’t say that. You can’t mean that. I’m not worth it.”
“Not worth it?” I scoff angrily. “You’re worth everything to me! I don’t understand why you act like you have deep feelings for me, but then you keep pushing me away.”
“I can’t take on this responsibility with you. I’ll only let you both down.” He shakes his head, still not convinced. I can see the familiar shadows creeping back in. And I’ve realized the walls he has built up are only made of grief and fear.
I can’t let him retreat into his dark thoughts again. I grab the back of his head and pull him in for a kiss. For a second he doesn’t respond, then his lips slowly respond, kissing me back. After a few slow strokes, his hands grip my waist, pulling me closer and he deepens the kiss at the same time I moan.
Suddenly, Noah rolls us over, laying me on the plush rug and positioning himself on top of me. Careful not to put pressure on my stomach, he holds himself up and makes love to me on the bedroom floor. The gentleness of his movements solidifies what I already know: he's capable of so much love.
As we lay on the floor, our legs intertwined, Noah traces delicate patterns on my skin. His fingertips send shivers through me, but his body heat against my skin chases the chills away. I’m so content in his arms, yet I can still feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.
I prop myself up, resting my chin on his chest to gaze into his pensive face. He doesn’t look at me but instead continues to stare up at the ceiling fan, lost in a world I can’t reach. “What are you thinking about?” I whisper.
“Just… everything,” he murmurs.
The silence stretches. My stomach twists at the thought that I may not be able to chase away his fears. I feel him pulling away again, the invisible barrier rising back up between us.
“You know I’m here for you, right?” I gently rub circles on his chest right over his pounding heart. He kisses the top of my head before getting up from the floor. He pulls me to my feet and helps me get dressed before dressing himself. Sensing his departure looming, the feeling of rejection comes flooding back.
“It’s late, and you two need to rest. If you need anything else, just reach out, okay?” He gazes at me with a sadness in his eyes, and as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a tear escapes. My heart clenches. Why does this feel like he’s saying goodbye for good?
“Please stay, Noah. Stay with me tonight,” I plead, my voice filled with vulnerability.
He looks up at the door, his jaw tightening as he battles an internal struggle I can feel. When his eyes find mine again, they’re heavy with sorrow. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have, Emma,” he replies softly, caressing my cheek.
“Nothing will hurt me more than you walking out that door right now.” I know I'm being desperate, but I don't even care. I’m not ready to face the pain his absence will bring.
He freezes. I know I’m not playing fair right now, but I can’t handle the thought of him leaving. If he walks out that door right now, I'm afraid he'll never come back.
“Okay. I’ll stay tonight,” he concedes finally, pulling me into a warm embrace. Relief instantly washes over me as I nestle against his chest. We stand there for a moment, wrapped in each other. I close my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. I nestle deeper against his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. He's here. At least for now.
Noah’s strong arms encircle me, holding me tightly as if he’s afraid of letting me go again. My mind races with all the things I wish I could say to him, all the reassurances I want to offer.
“Can we just… be here for a moment?” I finally ask, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about the baby or the future or anything else. Just… the two of us right now.”
He nods slowly, a small smile breaking the tension on his face. “I can do that.”