19. Kate
Chapter nineteen
Kate
T he bowl of ice cream is melting faster than I can eat it. A little river of vanilla and caramel winds down the side, sticky against my fingers, but I barely notice.
I’m out on the porch, arms folded over the railing, staring into the dark like it might tell me something. The wind carries a whisper of salt from the ocean, and a cricket hums somewhere beneath the steps.
The night wraps around the cottage, thick and hushed, and I feel all that quiet settling inside me, too.
One day without him, and it already feels like a week.
It’s stupid. To ache for and miss someone who never promised you anything. But it doesn’t stop the need.
The steady pull under my ribs, as if my body has already got used to him being near. His voice, his dog, the way Parker lights up when he sees him. It’s as if something in my world slid into place without me realizing it.
I take another bite. Cold and sweet. It should help, but it doesn’t.
If Noah can’t be what I need, if he can’t be transparent and give me something beyond physical, then I’ll walk away. I will do it for Parker because he deserves better. I know how to pretend I’m fine. But pretending doesn’t stop the cracks.
I raise another spoon of ice cream to my lips, and then I see a figure by the tree line.
The figure is walking with heavy shoulders and slow steps. It’s almost as if he’s carrying every bad memory he’s ever had. My breath catches when the porch light reaches his face.
Noah.
God .
He looks like he’s been through hell. Like he crawled through it to get here. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are red. And when they meet mine, it’s like something inside me stops. A full breath I didn’t know I was holding.
The spoon slips from my fingers into the bowl. I set it down without looking, already walking to him.
He doesn’t speak. Just keeps staring like I’m the only thing in this whole town still standing. Like I may vanish if he blinks.
“Noah?” I say, unsure. He looks bad.
I hook a hand around his elbow and open the door.
He doesn’t wait for an invitation. Just steps inside beside me, and then his knees seem to buckle, and he hits the floor.
My hand flies to my mouth.
He’s shaking badly, his shoulders hunch over.
“I’m sorry.” He says softly and hoarsely; it seems to be coming from the deepest part of him.
Another beat, and it pours out of him like he’s been holding back the tide too long. “I’m so damn sorry, Kate. For pushing you away. For not saying anything when I should’ve… when you needed me to.”
I step closer. Not touching. Not yet. But I’m already reaching for him in my heart.
“I wanted to,” he says, breath ragged. “God, I wanted to. But I didn’t know how.”
His voice cracks. He looks up at me, and I swear I see every wound he’s been hiding.
“I lost her,” he whispers. “Josie. We were kids. We were 18. She got pregnant with my baby, and I gave everything up for them, college, baseball, all of it.”
He raises his head, but it seems to take all of its strength. “I stayed because I loved her, I became a firefighter, and I could picture our family together. I built the house so I could be with her and our baby; we had something extraordinary together.”
My heart clenches, and I can already tell where this is leading, but I don’t interrupt or touch him. I’m afraid he will unravel if I do anything.
“And then, there was a car accident. She was seven months along and had severe blood loss before we got to the hospital. The doctors did all they could, but they couldn’t save her or the baby.”
My knees nearly give out. Josie’s story is so similar to how I lost Parker’s father.
Noah bows his head, like saying it out loud takes pieces of him with it.
“I never thought I would find what we shared in anyone. But I see you… and I feel again. I see Parker, and I can’t stop thinking about how I wasn’t enough to protect my baby.
And then you smile at me, and it’s like I’m back in a world where things can be good, and I don’t know what to do with that. ”
I kneel beside him. Not touching, just breathing beside him. My throat feels tight. My chest aches. And still, I don’t interrupt. He needs to let this out.
“I didn’t think I could ever love again without betraying her. But lately…” He laughs, broken and bitter. “Lately, I’ve been forgetting her face. I close my eyes, and it’s your voice I hear. Not hers.”
His hands curl into fists. His knuckles are white.
“I hate myself for it.”
I reach out then, slowly and carefully. My fingers brush his knuckles, and the moment our skin touches, he trembles.
“You don’t have to hate yourself,” I say quietly. “You’re still here, Noah. You’re still living.”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t know how to let go. I don’t know how to not be scared of losing you, too.”
I feel the tears sting, but I refuse to let them fall. I squeeze his hand instead. “Then don’t lose me.”
He looks up. And this time, I don’t see a man hiding behind walls.
I see a man fighting for breath. A man who’s been hurting in silence so long, he doesn’t remember what it feels like to be held.
Looking down at him feels like going back in time to when Parker’s father died. The only difference was that I confronted my feelings head-on and allowed myself to heal while never forgetting him. But Noah didn’t.
“I’m not asking you to forget her,” I whisper. “I’m just asking you to live and do what makes you happy.”
Noah closes his eyes. His hand lifts, and I let him cup my cheek, thumb brushing away the tear that finally escapes.
“I want to,” he says. “God, Kate. I want to.”
Noah’s voice is raw, frayed at the edges. Then he bows forward, resting his head in his hands, elbows braced on his thighs like he’s barely holding himself together. As if saying that out loud cost him the last of his strength.
I don’t move. Don’t speak.
I sit there beside him, one arm draped around his shoulders, the other hand still tangled with his. My thumb rubs slow circles against his knuckles. Not to comfort but to let him know I’m here. That I’m not afraid of his pain.
The room is so quiet you can hear the breath between the cracks. The old wood of the floor settles beneath us. The wind brushes past the windows like a sigh. Somewhere in the house, the clock ticks steadily as though it’s counting how long I’ll stay.
I stay.
He doesn’t look at me right away. His breathing is uneven. I can feel the tremble running through his shoulders—the deep, bone-level kind of weariness that comes from carrying too much for too long.
And I don’t try to fix it.
I just stay with him.
A long time passes. I don’t know how long. The night thickens around us, quiet and still, and still, I wait.
Finally, he lifts his head. His eyes are red but steadier, and it’s like something inside him has finally settled—or maybe finally let go.
“If I told you I was willing to try… to put the past behind me,” he says quietly, “if I could find the courage to do that… is there anything that might come between us?”
I meet his gaze, heart thudding, but I don’t hesitate.
I shake my head.
His voice catches. “Even Parker’s father?”
I take a breath, then another. “He’s gone. He died in a car accident when Parker was 18 months old.”
Pain flickers in Noah’s eyes. “Kate… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s alright. You deserved to know.” I glance down, my hand still tangled with his. “It changed me. Made me grow up fast. But Parker… he saved me.”
Noah nods slowly. “And you saved him right back.”
We sit like that for another beat, hands linked, breathing the same quiet air.
He clears his throat. “There’s something I should ask, and I’m not sure I want the answer.”
“Ask anyway.”
He huffs a soft breath. “The age difference. I’m thirty-eight.”
“And I’m twenty-eight,” I say gently. “Yes, it’s ten years. But it doesn’t feel like ten when we’re together.”
Something about his smile then—small, crooked, a little broken—melts something inside me.
“I keep waiting for this to fall apart,” he says. “Like I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I rise slowly and extend a hand. “Come with me.”
He stands and follows, his fingers brushing mine as we cross the dim hallway to my bedroom. The air is cooler here, still carrying the hush of night.
I don't close the door. I don't need to.
I sit on the bed and look up at him. “Lie down with me.”
His eyes flicker with hesitation, not lust. Something more tender. He nods and settles beside me, both of us fully clothed, stretched across the comforter like we don’t want to break the spell.
We lie facing each other in the low light.
“I meant what I said,” I whisper. “You don’t have to forget her. But you deserve more than surviving.”
His throat works as he swallows. “And you deserve someone who isn’t afraid.”
I reach for his hand again, weaving our fingers together. “Then let’s stop being afraid. Just for tonight. No past. No future. Just this.”
Noah exhales a shaky breath, like that one sentence peeled something loose in him. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and reverent.
“I think I’m falling for you, Kate.” He breathes the words like they cost him something.
“Not because I planned to. Not because I was ready. But because every time I’m near you… I start to remember who I am when I’m not carrying the weight of the past.”
My heart stutters, then soars. I scoot closer, until there’s no space between us. “Then fall. I’m already right here.”
His lips find mine, unhurried, like he’s tasting something precious. Our kisses are soft at first, then deeper, more urgent, but still laced with meaning. His hand cups my cheek like he’s memorizing the shape of me. I sigh into him, feeling the ache in my chest finally start to ease.
We undress each other slowly, not like a race, but like a conversation—every movement a question, every touch an answer. There’s nothing hurried about the way he touches me, nothing performative. Just skin to skin, breath to breath.
When we come together, it’s not about release. It’s about relief. About connection. About the kind of vulnerability that comes not from stripping bare but from being fully seen—and loved anyway.
And afterward, when we’re tangled in the sheets and the soft blue light of morning begins to edge through the window, I know something has shifted.
Not broken.
Not vanished.
But healed.
Together.