6. Georgia
Chapter six
Georgia
T he world around me dissolves into a blur of sensations—hands everywhere, too many to count, too quick to follow. They skim over my skin, greedy and possessive, gripping, exploring, claiming.
Fingers tangle in my hair, yanking my head back until warm lips ghost over mine, teasing but never quite meeting. Soft whispers drift around me, words too hushed to decipher yet thick with intent.
A palm slides down my stomach, slow and deliberate, anticipation coiling within me. Without warning, his touch shifts suddenly rough, his fingers pushing between my soaked folds, forcing a gasp from my lips. There’s no patience, no hesitation—only need.
The blaring alarm jolts me awake, yanking me from the haze of my dream. I shoot up, fumbling for my phone. Before I can grab it, a strong arm snakes around me, pulling me back into bed. My breath catches as every muscle in my body grows taut.
It was a dream. Right?
“Relax. I know you love to hit the snooze at least seven more times.”
Noah .
I don’t mean to, but I lean into him, relief washing over me.
“Curious what you were dreaming about. You were practically panting in your sleep.”
I shove him off me and climb out of bed. “I was dreaming about chasing you down and stabbing you.”
“Savage. You’d think I was the one who broke up with you .”
I whip around, giving him a nasty glare. “More like the way you’ve been treating me.”
Noah hops out of bed. “Wait— I’m the bad guy here? I’m not the one who pulled this bullshit.”
“No, you’re the asshole who has no idea how to have a relationship. You don’t know how to treat a woman… outside the bedroom—”
He prowls toward me, pressing me against the dresser. “You keep saying that. And I keep telling you—”
“What’s going on in here?”
Noah jerks back at the sound of his father’s voice, like it startled him out of something darker.
“Nothing,” he mutters, but it’s tight, like the word barely made it past whatever storm is brewing in his chest.
“That doesn’t look like nothing.”
I hold my breath. I hate when he gets like this—closed off, tense, a raw edge to every breath he takes. There’s no violence in him, not really, but there’s something else, something wild and restless, caged behind his eyes.
He’s never laid a hand on me. I don’t think he ever would. But there are moments—like this—when I can almost feel the weight of everything he’s holding back. Anger, grief, confusion. A darkness he doesn’t even understand. It’s like he’s always at war with something inside him, fighting battles no one can see, barely keeping it all together.
“We’re fine. Don’t you have morning calls to make?” Noah snaps, turning to his father, looking like he’s about to square off.
“Get ready for work.” His father retreats, catching my eye before disappearing from view.
When he’s gone, Noah shifts his gaze to me. “I’m sick of you acting like I’m the bad guy. You don’t want to be with me? Fine. But stop making me out to be the only fucked up one. You’re right there with me, baby.” With that, he walks out the door, and I collapse back onto the bed, trying to figure out what just happened.
Noah and I sit in silence the entire way to work. If he thinks I’m going to apologize for anything, he’s wrong. I hate that he called me out—called us out—but he’s right. I’m no less fucked up than he is. He may come from a wealthy family, a rich kid who has it all, but that doesn’t mean he’s not as screwed up as the rest of us.
Unlike Noah, whose financial future is set, I’m buried in loans—loans my mother swore she would help me with. I wouldn’t even have them if she hadn’t married Bill and allowed him access to my college fund.
My dad was the one who provided for our family. He had a stable job with great benefits, which meant we could take vacations, live comfortably, and save for my sister and me. But when I was ten, my dad died, and everything changed. My mom was lost without him. Heartbroken. She’d been with my dad her whole life. Being alone was so unknown to her it scared her. It’s why she clung to the first man who showed her attention. A man who wore this mask and fed her lies, hiding all his faults. They married within a year of my dad’s death, and that’s when everything fell apart.
Lettie was too young to understand. She couldn’t see the kind of man Bill really was. Or maybe it was because he never laid a hand on her. He was a drunk with no money, no ambition, and a job that was always temporary. He managed to convince my mom to give him access to my college fund. And from the fights I could hear, he’d gambled my entire future away. Everything my parents had saved… was gone.
I despised my mom for her poor decisions. For not putting her children before her desperation. And worst of all, I missed my dad so damn much. He was my hero. He took care of me. He was supposed to teach me how to ride a bike, threaten my first boyfriend about curfew, and walk me down the aisle at my wedding. But when he died, everything changed. All the love I’d known died with him. My mom was so consumed by her own grief that she never thought to check if her children were okay or if we felt loved. Looking back, it makes sense how I ended up on that dark path. I just wanted someone to love me, to notice me. And that’s exactly what Mr. Bishop did.
Henry Bishop.
Julian Valley High’s favorite English teacher.
He saw me— really saw me—in a way no one else ever had. His smile was warm, genuine, like I was someone worth listening to, someone who mattered. When he sat beside me, patiently absorbing every frustration and every fear I spilled, I knew he truly cared. And when he reached for my hand, when he pulled me into the kind of hugs I’d long since stopped expecting, I felt something I hadn’t in years. Safe. Wanted. Like I finally belonged to someone who wouldn’t just leave.
It wasn’t my plan—to fall into… something with him. Was it love? Or just the desperate need to be loved? I don’t know. Maybe I never did.
But the emotional connection wasn’t enough.
I don’t know whose fault it was, who blurred the lines first. Maybe it didn’t matter. What mattered was the way it felt when we finally crossed that line—like I had stepped into a world where I wasn’t invisible. For the first time, I was seen . Emotionally. Physically. Completely.
But even that came crashing down. Reality hit hard, unraveling the illusion I had clung to so desperately. The weight of it—the wrongness, the inevitable fallout—sank its claws into me, tearing away the one thing that had ever made me feel whole. And just like everything else, even he was ripped away from me.
I suppose that’s what happens when you spend your life searching for something you were never meant to have. Craving attention, validation—someone to see you, to want you. Maybe that’s why I didn’t stop it. Why did I let it happen? Because when you grow up chasing the love you never had, the lines between right and wrong start to blur.
I shake off the memory.
As soon as Noah shifts the car into park, I jump out and stride toward the elevator without waiting for him. Pressing the button for the tenth floor, he slides in just as the door closes. I exhale slowly, trying to center my thoughts on whatever Mr. Blake has in store for me today rather than on Noah. The elevator dings, the doors slide open, and I step out, ignoring Noah, heading toward his father's office.
“Where are you going? The call center is this way,” Noah says. I look back, taking in the frown pulling at his lips.
“Your father’s office. I’m working with him today.”
His brows shoot up. “What? No, you’re not.” He storms toward me, and I brace for whatever fight he has in store. Instead, he brushes past me, heading down the corridor toward his father’s office. I hurry after, catching the start of their argument as I walk in.
“What the fuck?”
“Morning to you too, son.”
“Georgia’s in the call center.”
Mr. Blake takes a seat behind his large desk, less than pleased at his son’s outburst. “She’s with me today.”
“No.” Noah shakes his head. “I don’t think so. She’s at the—”
Mr. Blake stands, pressing his palms against the top of his desk. “This is business, Noah. I will not have you coming into my office and showing me disrespect.”
“Business, huh?” Noah shakes his head again. “Whatever you say.” Facing me, he says, “Watch yourself with him,” then walks out, leaving me to stare at his back until he’s out of sight.
“Sorry about that.”
I shift my attention to Mr. Blake. “What was that about?”
“As you know, my son can be a bit challenging at times.” Mr. Blake’s tone is dismissive, shutting down any opportunity for further discussion. I can’t help but replay Noah’s words in my mind.
“Watch yourself with him.”
What did he mean by that?
Mr. Blake gestures toward the conference table in the corner of his office. I take his cue and move to sit as he follows, settling across from me. “As you may know, if you’ve done your research, which I hope you have, we are the leading global distributor of raw materials,” he begins. “Our clients span multiple industries, including industrial manufacturing, automotive production, packaging, and construction. If it’s practical and essential, we supply it.”
He leans back slightly, fingers tapping against the polished tabletop. “Our strength lies in market versatility. We engage across various sectors, ensuring we can fulfill any request, regardless of its scale. This location serves as our hub for sales, customer service, and logistics—the core of our client operations. Building and maintaining strong relationships is critical. It’s not just about making a sale; it’s about fostering long-term partnerships that keep our business thriving.”
His gaze hardens, fixed entirely on me. “That’s where you come in. This internship isn’t just about observation. I expect you to learn how we operate, understand client needs, and demonstrate that you possess the skills necessary to be a part of this industry.
“Will I be working in customer service or sales?”
“Neither,” he says evenly, his gaze assessing. “My intuition tells me you have a bit more ambition than my son does, which is why you’ll be shadowing me. I’m going to teach you how to invest in your career.” He leans forward slightly, his voice steady, calculated. “Do you want to sit behind a desk taking calls for someone else, or do you want to be the one running the show?”
A spark ignites in my chest, something I didn’t expect to feel so soon. I swallow hard. This is it. Say it like you mean it.
“I… I want to be the one running it.”
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face. “Good girl.”
The way he says it sends a strange thrill down my spine—part approval, part challenge. He studies me for a moment, then rises, straightening his sleeves as if sealing an unspoken deal.
“Then let’s get to work.”
The intercom on his desk buzzes. “Mr. Blake, Wayne Gallagher is on line one. There’s an issue at one of our warehouses.”
“Excuse me.” He picks up his phone. His brows furrow as he listens, his expression shifting from concern to frustration.
“When?” There’s an edge in his voice now. “Did you check the systems? And…?” A heavy pause. His jaw tightens. “Okay. I’m coming to oversee it myself.” He drags a hand down his face before giving a curt nod. “Thank you. See you soon.”
As he hangs up, his grip on the phone lingers, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.
“Everything okay?”
“Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” I stand.
“Field trip,” he announces, his tone clipped with urgency. “Our closest warehouse is approximately thirty minutes away. They’re experiencing system issues, and we’re going to investigate the problem.”
Before I can respond, he presses his hand against the small of my back, firm yet controlled, and guides me toward the door. The sudden shift in energy—his frustration mixed with unwavering authority—sends a wave of anticipation through me.
“Let’s move,” he adds, steering me into the hallway with purposeful strides. “Pay attention. You’re about to see firsthand how we handle problems in real time.”
“But shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t what, Georgia?” His voice is smooth, laced with something that makes my pulse quicken. “I’m the boss. I make the rules.”
That wasn’t exactly where I was going with that. I meant—shouldn’t someone else be going with him? This seems inappropriate. But the way his eyes linger on me, the weight of his hand resting a second too long at my back, makes my stomach tighten. Inappropriate is suddenly the last thing on my mind.
I lift my chin, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. “Okay, boss. Let’s go.”
His smile unfolds slowly, the kind that sends shivers down a girl’s spine and fuels fantasies that don’t belong in a workplace.
He gives the receptionist a quick nod before telling her we’ll be out in the field until after lunch. I hesitate for a moment, a flicker of doubt creeping in. Noah didn’t search for me for lunch yesterday, but what if he does today? What if he realizes I’m missing… with his father?
“Everything okay?” Mr. Blake asks.
I snap out of my stupid thoughts. “Of course.”