The sight sends another wave of heat through me, dizzying in its intensity. Knowing he wants me this much, that I can do this to him, makes my heart hammer even harder.
“All good?” he whispers, his voice wrecked but careful, always careful with me.
I nod, eyes closing again, too overwhelmed to trust my voice. “Yes,” I finally manage to croak.
I force my eyes open, needing to see his face. Needing those eyes. “Again?”
For a moment, his eyes soften even further, something affectionate shining through the dark heat there. Then he smiles—slow, warm, radiant—and it feels like sunlight breaking through every cloud I’ve been carrying for years.
And he gives me exactly what I asked for.
19
GABE
The night before, I’d gotten ready for bed with something warm in my chest, a glowing, fragile ember of excitement and hope I hadn’t felt in years. It sat there while I brushed my teeth, while I changed into my oldest, softest shirt. I’d kissed Noah, and it had been…good. More than good. It had been everything I ever wanted a kiss to be. Safe. Tender. Sensual.
A single kiss had never made me feel so wanted.
But when I wake, that ember has been smothered.
It’s like someone’s thrown a dark shadow over me, suffocating whatever light I’d let in. The thoughts seep in, lethal as smoke under a door.
You’re just something he pities. That’s all it was. You’re too much, too quiet, too broken — why would anyone stay for that?
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, so hard it hurts, hoping I can shut it out. The questions keep coming, circling tighter and tighter until the words are all I can hear.
It’s the same voice that kept me quiet for so long, the same one that told me to apologize when I hadn’t done anything wrong. The one that told me to take all the awful things done to me.
I thought it had been fading since Noah moved in.
But it’s here again, full volume. Booming through my thoughts. A jagged echo splitting through my skull.
You’re not safe.
You’ll never be safe.
I try to realign myself with what I know is real. Noah, leaning against the counter, a warm smile while he listens to me ramble about shop ideas. Noah, calling me beautiful with nothing but honesty in his dark blue eyes.
The way his lips felt against mine—not demanding, but patient, letting me take the lead. It was as though he was willing to take whatever I chose to give.
It helps for a second, but then the voice snakes its way back in.You’ll ruin it, just like you ruin everything else.
There’s a war going on inside me. The part of me that is desperately trying to cling to the joy I can find in life is being dragged under by the vicious parts of my mind.
I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. But we don’t always get what we want.
I can’t sit here, I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. I need to move.
I change quickly, pulling on running clothes and lacing my shoes. Usually, Noah comes with me. Normally, I look forward to running with him. Not today. Today I need to be alone with the cold air and the rhythm of my steps, even if the company in my head is cruel enough to draw blood.
Outside, the morning is dull and grey. Willowrun is just waking up, a delivery van pulls up outside Kindle’s, the driver whistling happily, a cyclist flies past. I start at an easy pace, the cold air slicing into my lungs, and take the first turn away from the route Noah and I have fallen into. It’s petty and deliberate, but I don’t want to risk the chance of crossing his path if he decides to go alone. Not when I’m like this.
Coward.
I count my breaths as I run, hoping to repel the thoughts trying to break me open. The cold nips at my cheeks, and my fingertips sting until they feel hot. Usually, the town calms me when I run, the familiarity of the scene soothing. Today, everything is too much. The street signs. The light. The inside of my skull.
I take the longer route by the square, cutting behind the community center. Posters ripple in the breeze on the noticeboard: a queer art showing, a flyer for the next library event, a poster for Anchor Strength. My stomach churns when I see it. I don’t let myself slow down to read any, and the colors blur past, proof the town still holds other people’s lives together even when mine feels like it’s falling apart.
