I sound almost panicked, like if I don’t say it fast enough, he might slip away.
Silence stretches long enough for my chest to start closing up again. Thoughts slam into me—that this is too good, that I’ll ruin it somehow. That I’ll wake up one morning and he’ll be gone, decide I’m too much work, too broken to keep.
But then his arms tighten around me, pulling me in until there’s no space left between us.
“Baby,” he murmurs into my hair, conviction flowing through every word. “There is no end for us. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
I close my eyes, trying to let myself believe him. It feels dangerous, hope always does. It’s terrifying, how much I feel, the weight of his arms, the buzz of want under my skin, the fragile hope that maybe this is where I belong.
And that this—him,us—could be forever.
33
GABE
I’m at the kitchen table with my laptop open, sipping Earl Grey and pretending the words on the screen don’t make my pulse race. The cursor blinks at me like it’s judging every half-sentence I type and delete. I’ve been drafting an email to Dani at Wild Fern for over twenty minutes and haven’t gotten past “Hi Dani.”
I want to do this. I do. It’s the right thing—reaching out, collaborating, trying to grow the business. But my chest feels tight anyway, like there’s a hand pressing down on it, whispering all the reasons I shouldn’t bother. That I won’t be able to handle it.
Ciarán told me they have authors who need venues in the next year, the library keeps a backlist of names who wanted their venue, but availability was an issue. This should be a no-brainer. They have authors who need a space, and I have the space. God, why am I struggling so much with this?
Noah sings to himself at the stove, no idea of all the thoughts running through my mind, I take a sip of tea to calm myself. Then I breathe out, roll my shoulders, and start typing again.
Hi Dani,
It’s Gabe Shaw from Evergreen Books. I heard through a friend that Wild Fern might be looking for spaces in town for upcoming author events. I’d love to host some at my store.
I sign off with my contact details, read over it three times, my stomach churning as I hit send before I can chicken out.
Behind me, Noah’s voice calls, “You want jam or honey for your toast?”
“Butter’s fine,” I mutter absentmindedly. I don’t know if I can eat. Now that the email is gone, I feel an odd sense of dread mixed with relief. He pads over a minute later, setting my plate down in front of me. Chorizo scrambled eggs, toast, and some roasted potatoes. My stomach growls audibly, surprising me. I guess I can eat.
It feels like I’m hungry all the time lately.
Noah has taken to making me breakfast whenever he can. I can feel the difference in my clothes, see it in the mirror. I look healthier, stronger.
“Thank you,” I say, looking up at him.
He smiles, leaning against the table, watching me dig in. I feel a bit spoiled, but honestly, I love it. My dad did this for my mom. I wonder if Noah remembers that. I bet he does.
“You emailed Dani?”
I nod, feeling a bit shaky thinking about her reading it. “Just now.”
Noah kisses the top of my head and beams, his pride almost a physical thing. “That’s my man.”
I flush but smile through a mouthful of toast. Once we’re dressed for the day, we head down into the shop together. At the door, Noah leans in and kisses me goodbye. It’s not quick or casual—it’s full of promise.
When he pulls back, his eyes stay on mine. “Have a good day, baby.”
I smile to myself long after the door shuts behind him.
Around lunchtime, Theo walks in, a package tucked under one arm. He looks relaxed, leather jacket open, showing a worn band tee. “Hey, Gabe,” he says with a friendly smile.
“Hi, Theo.” I give him an awkward approximation of a wave. This is the first time I’ve been alone with him, and while I know the others trust him and consider him a friend, my senses are on high alert. Even though I want to, I don’t know him that well yet. “Noah’s not here.”
He smiles warmly at me. “Yeah, I figured. I was just doing a post office run and thought I’d drop in to see what comics you had. Ciarán mentioned you stocked some.”
