And you could use someone looking out for you. I know my brother is worried about me, his concern rings through more and more as time goes on. Time moves on, but I don’t. I’m stuck. Caged by my own fears.
At twenty-nine, I shouldn’t need someone to look out for me, though.
“YouknowNoah’s a great guy, not loud,” he continues. I finally look up at him and arch an eyebrow. He snorts a laugh, the sound making me chuckle in response. “Okay, he’s notasloud anymore. He’s grown up and settled down a lot over the years. Surely you’ve seen that yourself. He’ll be easy to live with.”
I have seen that, it’s just been so long now.
Aiden watches me fidget with the bookmarks, then says quietly, “He’s nothing like Kyle. Noah’s safe.”
The words lance through me. My chest squeezes so tight it hurts.
“No one’s safe,” I say, before I can stop myself. The words shrink to almost nothing by the time they leave me, barely more than a whisper. I regret them immediately, Aiden’s safe, Abbie, Ciarán. They’re my safe spaces.
And while Aiden’s right—Noah was always a great guy, kind and funny—people change with time. I learned that lesson the hard way.
Aiden flinches, but he doesn’t back off. His next words are soft but cutting. “This is my point. You shouldn’t think like that—like everyone outside your circle is a threat. YouknowNoah.”
“I’ve made the apartment mine,” I murmur. “I’m used to living alone now.”
I feel safe there. I can hide there.
“I get that.” He rubs the back of his neck, speaking gently. “But it’s not healthy to never let anyone in. And I don’t just mean into the apartment.”
I hate how much sense he’s making.
“You’ve been even quieter lately,” he continues. “Since Mom and Dad passed. Since you left him. It’s like you’re retreating more inside yourself. And I know you’re working through things, but… Gabe, you barely talk to anyone outside of customers and your friends.”
“I talk to people.” The protest slips out, petulant as my eyes sting. Truth is, he’s right. Outside of my friends, the store is the only place I feel comfortable talking to people. This is the one place I could always get away from Kyle. We lived in Portland, and I did a huge commute daily to get here. He never bothered to come see the store, see the business I was building here. It hurt me at the time, but now I’m grateful.
These walls keep me safe, make me feel protected, in a way. It’s my space, and when I’m here, I feel braver.
“Oh yeah? Who?”
“To… Micah. And the new florist when he comes in.” A weak sigh escapes me.God, I really am pathetic.
Aiden purses his lips, clearly unimpressed. “Gabe, really, the guy who makes you tea and a florist who looks like he wants to vanish every time someone says hello? Come on.” He’s frustrated by this situation. The situation I keep making worse day by day.
A self-deprecating laugh slips free.
“I’ll think about it,” I whisper.
“Please do more than think.” He nudges my arm gently with his elbow. “Worst case, Noah says no. Best case? You have some extra money for that ridiculous tea subscription again.”
I scowl faintly. “I didn’t cancel it.” We both know that’s not true; it was expensive, and they sent me too many cinnamon-based blends.
“Liar.” He chuckles, eyes crinkling. I can’t help the soft laugh that leaves me in return.
The idea of Noah in my space—in the quiet sanctuary I’ve built after everything—feels like inviting fire into a room made of paper.
I always remember him as the boy who burned bright. Golden hair. Tanned skin. Always moving, always talking, grinning so wide it felt like he might split at the seams. Aiden’s shadow, dragging joy into every corner of our house, whether anyone asked for it or not.
But sometimes, I’d catch him when no one else was looking. Sitting at the edge of our porch steps, smile gone, shoulders slumped. Those moments never lasted long; the second someone walked by, the light would flick back on.
I knew his home life wasn’t great. And maybe that’s why he smiled so much—because it was easier than letting anyone see the cracks. I understood that. Hiding in plain sight. Pretending to be okay in the hopes that it’ll make it true.
Sometimes he looked so sad, my heart hurt for him.
It’s that final thought that makes me say, “Okay. Will you bring it up with him?” My voice shakes.
