When he catches sight of my eyes, his smile slides away. “Shit,” he says, stepping forward, the lightness gone from his voice. “Baby, I’m sorry. I thought they were fun, I didn’t—”
I cross the kitchen before he can finish. My hand latches onto the soft fabric of his top, pulling him into me as his hoodie hits the floor. The kiss is hard, carrying all the feelings I’m not able to convey—gratitude, comfort, belonging. So much happiness, I don’t know where to put it except this kiss. Noah gasps, the faintest sound escaping him before he kisses me back.
When I break away, I keep my forehead pressed to his.
“I love them,” I murmur.
I love you.
I can’t say the words, but I feel them in every part of my being. Noah is mine. He was always meant to be mine. I just need to work harder to deserve him. If I try harder, maybe I really can keep him.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, the words tumbling out of me. “I’m glad you came back.”
The corners of his eyes crease, his smile softens into something more tender. “Yeah?”
My hand finds the back of his neck, fingers ghosting over the top of his tattoo. “Yeah… I think you were always meant to come home.”
Home. To me.
The truth sits between us, fragile but tangible. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask what I mean. He just reaches up and brushes his thumb against my chin, fingers tracing a path under my ear and sliding into my hair. His palm is warm, fingers lightly palming my scalp. My eyes flutter closed as I sink into the feeling of utter contentment.
“Wanna go to your room and make out like teenagers?” he asks, voice dropping an octave, becoming playful.
My stomach flutters with the knowledge that he’d be perfectly happy with just that. Just kissing. Just me.
“Yes,” I laugh as I tug him to my room.
34
NOAH
“No, no, no,” Aiden groans when the first notes of “Gonna Make You Sweat” blast out.
“Aw, come on, Shaw,” I shoot back, cranking the volume. “This one isn’t even eighties! I decided on a nineties classic just for you.”
He levels me with a look over the rim of his cup. “I swear to god, if one single person associates me with eightiesornineties dance music, I’m blaming you. It’s 2025 for fuck’s sake.”
“They eat it up. It’s motivational,” I snort, pointing at him with my stir stick. “Come on, admit it. You’re smiling.”
He tries not to, but his mouth tugs at the corner, anyway. “I’m smiling at you being ridiculous, not the awful music.”
“Your taste is up your ass,” I say, heading for the whiteboard.
I really do believe most clients enjoy my music, it’s got great rhythm for a workout. I’ve gotten into Picture This after Gabe sang that song to me, though. Maybe I’ll add them to a new playlist, Aiden would probably enjoy it, so I’ll play it when he isn’t even here.
We fall into the usual routine. My coffee is half gone before Aiden finally leans against the desk and says, almost like he’s testing me, “Gabe looked really happy at dinner the other night. Seems to be doing well.”
I look up from the schedule. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Just feels like he’s… more himself. Haven’t seen him like that in a long time.”
I try to bite back a smile, failing. “Yeah, he’s doing great.” My smile fades a little, thinking of the night by the lake, how Gabe said he couldn’t always be happy. I’ve seen it, the shadows lurking in his eyes, how he stares off into the distance, trapped by his memories at times. It’s not as often now as when I first moved in, though, and I’m thankful for it. If anyone has earned the right to be happy, it’s him. “He still struggles some days, but I’m there for him.”
Aiden gives me a look like he sees more than I say, then nods. “Good. He deserves to get past everything that happened. It’s been tough on him.”
I nod in agreement.
“Still can’t believe you two are together,” he says with amusement, shaking his head. “It’s so weird, but also not? I can’t make sense of it.” He chuckles to himself.
