“Thank you,” he answers for me.
“You know, my daughter’s husband has an older brother who’s gay, and he and his partner just adopted. Such a precious couple. Such a wonderful family,” she says, lightly patting me on the back.
Fear creeps up my back at the misunderstanding, but as my eyes connect over the table with Noah’s beautiful face…that fear dissipates.
Sadness of what could’ve been replaces the feeling. Why the hell did he have to go?
“Yeah, thatiswonderful,” I say softly.
“I'd better go. You three have a great day.” She pats me on the back a couple more times before slowly making her way, continuing down the trail.
Swallowing deeply, I look over at Noah, who is looking away from me, arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re not forgiving me any time soon, are you?” he says it more like a statement than a question.
I think about how much anger I have for him. A whole fucking year—gone.Stolen from us. If that one weekend we shared was any indication of how incredible we could’ve been, it kills me that he took that away. Sometimes, I almost wish that weekend had never happened at all. I wish I didn’t know how good his lips tasted, or how it felt to hold him close. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so twisted up inside. Maybe I’d still be with Veronica, content in the ignorance of what I never had the chance to keep.
Because if I never knew how good having him felt, not having him wouldn’t hurt this fucking much.
“No. I’m not.” I shake my head slowly. “I think it’s best if we just…leave it alone. Forget it even happened.” The words taste like acid in my mouth.
He nods his head, looking away. “Okay. If that’s what you want.” Throwing his ice cream in a nearby trash can, I watch as he walks off. The same way he did over a year ago.
Only this time,I’mthe one who told him to go.
25
Noah
Maybe I was wrong.
I came back thinking Brad was going to be missing what we had just as much as I was, but maybe I was so damn delusional that I forgot all about why I left in the first place.
He’s with my mom. He has Paislee to raise. He hasa whole damn lifethat I’m not a part of.Being with me would mean ruining everything he has. And I’m not one hundred percent certain I’m worth it.
Why in the hell would he ditch what he has forme?
I needhim.Not the other way around.
I silently swear at myself as I make my way up to my bedroom. My oldchildhoodroom.
Because that’s what I am. A fucking child. Stuck in my parents house after acting like a totalidiotand leaving in the first place.
I sit on my bedroom floor, head in my hands, as I put my head between my legs. I need to get a handle on my emotions.
My breathing is all out of sorts. My heart is beating way too fast. So many thoughts in my head.
It’s all too much.
I quickly think of something to help settle my nerves.
Rummaging through my drawers, I sift out my old grinder. With some searching, I find exactly what I’m looking for.
Cranking open my bedroom window, I stick my head out, just as I did when I was younger. Maybe it’s not a fix but at least it’ll help distract me from how I’m truly feeling.
I take my time rolling the paper, lighting it up, drawing up a long breath, and feeling the burn in my lungs before blowing out. The burn in my lungs feels good. Real. Grounding.
It’s making it easy to stifle how badly I want to cry. The tears won’t help anyway.
