15. Kate
Chapter fifteen
Kate
I can’t believe him.
Who the hell does he think he is?
Ignoring me for days, then stepping in like I'm his to claim?
I push myself to move faster, the night air brushing against my skin, and my heels scrape against the gravel unevenly, matching the staccato thud of my heart rate. I don’t even look back. I can’t. If I do, I’ll fall apart.
But I feel him.
I know he’s following me. His presence clings like the charge in the air before a storm. I’m nearly to the parking lot when his voice cuts through the dark.
“Kate—”
I spin, the words already burning the back of my throat before he can finish.
“What gives you the right to do that?” My voice cracks on the edges, but I hold it steady, even as my heart threatens to cave in on itself. “You left without a word. Five days, Noah. You used me and disappeared. And I told myself it was fine. That I could handle it.”
I blink hard because the tears are right there, perched on the edge, and I’ll be damned if I let him see them fall. “But you don’t get to show up tonight acting like you get to make decisions for me. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to be with me either?”
I expect him to fight back. But he just stands there, his chest rising hard as if every breath is a struggle. And for once, I see it.
There is a crack in his armor. The guilt, the regret, the same ache that’s been clawing at me all week, mirrored right there on his face.
I should leave the same way he did.
I turn and take a step. But his hand finds mine; warm, rough, grounding, and the second he pulls me back to him and against his chest, everything inside me shatters.
His mouth is on mine before I can think, before I can even breathe. The kiss isn’t soft. It’s fierce. Desperate. As though five days of silence have amounted to something bigger, neither of us can name. It poured into the silence that had built between us like a wall.
My hands flatten against his chest, warmth radiating through his shirt and into my bones. I should push him away. I should remind him that this isn’t fair.
But I don’t. I fist the front of his shirt and hold on to the only solid thing in the world that won’t stop spinning.
The kiss deepens, his hands anchoring me, sliding along my waist and my back, pulling me closer until there isn’t an inch of space left between us. His touch is rough and unsteady, as though he doesn’t trust himself not to fall apart, as if he’s already falling.
Anyone can see us in the lot, but I don’t care. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, breath warm and ragged against my lips.
“I’m sorry, Kate. Come home with me.” His voice is quiet, stripped bare. “Let me take you home. I can explain.”
God, I want to. My heart claws at the walls I’ve built, begging for me to say yes. But Parker’s face flashes behind my eyes, his small, sleepy smile waiting for me to tuck him in.
The words stick. I swallow hard, forcing them past the tight, burning knot that’s risen behind my sternum.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “Parker’s with Connor. I have to go get him.”
His eyes close, his chest sinking like I’ve pulled the floor out from under him. For a moment, we don’t move. He just breathes me in, hands sliding to the small of my back, holding me there like he can freeze time if he wishes hard enough.
“I’ll have him brought to you tonight,” he says in a low voice. The world rearranges itself the second he speaks. “Just…a few hours, please come with me.”
My fingers tremble against his chest, curled into the fabric of his shirt. I want to stay. God, I’ve never known a man begging could wreck me like this. That it can make my heart clench and my skin burn at the same time. Maybe one more chance, it won’t hurt.
“Okay,” I whisper. Just one word. “Yes.”
The second it leaves me, his entire body shifts. Relief, need…..all of it rolls through him like a wave. He doesn’t say anything, just lets out this ragged, almost broken exhale, and before I can blink, his arms are around me.
I let out a startled gasp as he lifts me off the ground, strong hands locking behind my thighs, hauling me up against his chest like the world can fall away and he won’t feel it. My arms loop around his neck, holding on, heart hammering against his.
The gravel crunches under his boots as he carries me across the parking lot, obviously not caring who sees, not caring about anything but the fact that I said yes.
The truck door creaks open, cold metal brushing the back of my legs as he lowers me onto the worn leather seat, slow and careful, like letting go might undo him.
My heartbeat's still hammering, hands trembling as they fall from his shoulders, watching him close the door and looking as if he’s afraid that if he takes his eyes off me for one second, I’ll vanish.
The truck rumbles to life, headlights slicing through the dark, but the ride itself barely registers. His hand stays fixed on the gear shift, knuckles pale from how hard he grips it, like keeping the truck steady is the only thing holding the rest of him together.
I sit there, chest tight, fingers curled in my lap, staring out at the road, but I don’t see the town lights. I don’t feel the turns or the tires humming over the pavement.
All I feel is him.
His presence, thick and impossible to ignore, stretches across the truck, and something inside me kindles slow and steady. I know the moment this truck stops, I won’t be able to stop either.
It’s the shortest ride of my life.
And when the tires finally roll to a stop, I know exactly what I’ve signed up for.
I’ve barely blinked before Noah is out of the door and already beside me again. He opens the door, and his arms slide beneath me again, lifting me against his chest as if I weigh nothing at all.
My breath hitches, caught somewhere between shock and surrender, and the world seems to fall away.
I don’t protest. I don’t even try.
His heartbeat thrums steadily beneath my ear, each of his footsteps falling in time, steady and sure.
His grip tightens, firm and secure, almost as if he can’t afford to give me room to second-guess or a single inch of space to fall back into old defenses.
The gravel shifts under his boots, the low groan of the porch boards giving under his weight, and still, he doesn’t let me go. Not once.
His arms flex around me, muscle taut beneath my palms, carrying me straight through the front door as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, like the ground was never meant to have me.
The soft creak of the door shutting behind us barely settles before his mouth crashes down onto mine. I should ask him for the explanation he promised, but as usual, I can’t think straight when he’s around me.
The kiss isn’t sweet, and it isn’t patient. It’s wild; raw, unspoken need poured into every touch, every tilt of his head, every desperate slide of his lips against mine.
His breath spills into me, rough and uneven, the low rumble in his chest vibrating against my ribs as I fist my hands in the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer even though there’s no space left to close.
I feel the wall press against my back before I realize he’s moved us at all. He pins me there, his palms braced on either side of my head, his mouth never straying far, nipping at the corner of my lips, trailing down the line of my throat until my knees threaten to give out entirely.
My hands tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, anchoring myself to the only steady thing I can feel. His name slips from me in a whisper; it’s barely a sound and more breath than a word.
I feel him freeze in response, just for a heartbeat.
His forehead rests against mine, his breath ragged, the heat rolling off his skin as if he’s barely keeping himself from coming undone.
“I missed you,” he says, his voice low and hoarse.
My chest tightens, the ache settling deep and sharp; and I restrain myself from touching him, keeping my fingers from brushing the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the stubble I’d dreamed about and cursed in equal measure.
Yes, it feels good to know he misses me like I do him, but that’s not the words I want to hear. It's not the answer I need. I pull back, enough to breathe, letting the air cool between us.
“Missed me?” I repeat, voice quieter than I mean. “After disappearing for five days, Noah?”
The guilt flashes across his face, but there's something else there, too, something deeper. Fear? Regret? I can’t put my finger on it.
He doesn’t speak, just runs a hand through his hair, as though he’s gathering his thoughts, but also, maybe, fighting against something inside.
The tension simmers in the air. I feel the heat, the pull. All of it. I also feel the cracks forming, like something’s being held back. I need to know.
“Why did you do that?” The question feels small, but it covers all the pressure I’ve been carrying. “You just… left. Without an explanation.”
His jaw clenches, and I see it then…the conflict. I see how hard he’s fighting to stay steady, how hard he’s working to keep his distance from me even though his body is betraying him.
I see it, the war behind his eyes, but it doesn’t stop the doubt from creeping in. Maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing with me.
“I—” He stops himself, then exhales a long breath. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”
His eyes flick to mine, deep with vulnerability, which I’m not expecting, and it makes my heart race. But there's also that fear again, simmering under the surface. He didn’t know what he was doing?
“So, what now? Why did you bring me here?” I murmur, my voice shaky with uncertainty. “Is this just about tonight, Noah?”
The way he looks at me, with hearts in his eyes, makes me believe that’s not the case. But that same fear I saw in him spreads through me, curling tight.
He reaches out to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones, as though he can no longer resist touching me, or maybe trying to keep himself from falling apart.