We lapse into silence again. It’s easier with him than it is with most. Maybe because he doesn’t fill it with needless chatter, or perhaps because he doesn’t shift uncomfortably when I don’t respond right away. He just leans against the rail, his gaze fixed somewhere far off.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “Do you come out here a lot?”
“When I need to breathe,” he says simply. “Sometimes Luca gets it. Sometimes he thinks I’m avoiding him.”
“Are you?”
“Sometimes,” Sage says with a soft smile. “He’s a lot, and I love him. But that doesn’t mean I want to be around him every second of the day. You can love someone and still need space.”
The words hit me in a way I didn’t expect them to. I look down at my hands, fingers gripping the railing tightly enough to pale my knuckles. I’ve never had someone say it that plainly before.
“I don’t think I know how to do that,” I admit. “I either want someone too much or not at all. There’s never an in-between.”
“That’s not a bad thing. It just means when you care, it’s real,” Sage replies.
I don’t say anything. I’m not sure I can.
Sage exhales and leans forward on his elbows, eyes scanning the dark. “Ryan says you’ve been having a rough time,” he says after a minute of silence.
I keep my eyes on the pool, watching the ripples. “He talks too much.”
“He cares a lot,” Sage says, and there’s no judgment in it. “He’s a good one. Annoying, but good.”
I nod once. “He’s the reason I’m here.”
“You mean in the house?”
“I mean, still at Blackthorne.” I say and Sage edges closer, but doesn’t speak. “I almost left about two weeks ago. Packed half my shit and started looking at flights.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I take a long breath and let it out slowly. “Because Ryan walked into my room and said, ‘If you leave now, he wins.’ And I didn’t have to ask who he meant.”
There’s a moment where I think he might ask who “he” is, offer sympathy, a cliché, or something soft to fill the ache. But he doesn’t. He just looks at me with that steady, too-knowing gazeand says, “You know, this house has a way of chewing people up if they let it. It’s a lot of personalities in one place, and a lot of noise.”
I glance toward the glass doors, where the lights flicker, and shadows move in rhythmic chaos. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“Don’t lose yourself trying to fit in, Noah,” he murmurs. “It’s easy to forget who you are when everyone else in the room is too loud.”
I exhale, but it’s shaky, and lean forward until my arms rest on the railing and my chin drops between them. The wood is cool under my skin, and the pressure feels good. “Do you ever feel as if you’re playing a version of yourself that isn’t quite real?” I ask, not even sure where the words come from.
“All the time,” Sage says without hesitation. “The trick isn’t killing the version everyone thinks you are. It’s finding the one that feels like home.”
“And if you can’t find him?”
Sage looks at me, his eyes softer. “Then you make him. From the pieces left behind.”
There’s another moment of silence between us, and once again, I wonder why being around Sage makes me feel like I don’t constantly need to perform.
After a while, Sage clears his throat. “So… you and Damien—”
“What about us?” I straighten up and ask too quickly, my pulse spiking instantly.
Sage holds up his hands. “Relax, Bluebird, I’m not prying. Just… I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
I stare at him and slowly shake my head. “He doesn’t look at me at all.”
“Then maybe you’re not paying attention,” he says, his mouth quirking into a half smile.
