I drag in a shaky breath—barely—just enough not to collapse. My chest tightens. The edges of the room blur.
I try again for a steadier breath and begin counting all over. One one thousand… two one thousand…
I glance up—and immediately lose count.
Stars.
Millions of them. Everywhere.
It’s like I stepped into another galaxy. They’re spectacular—shiny and bright—just like?—
Noah’s lips.
Jesus Christ. They’re hislips.
A groan escapes me, and I bury my fists against my eyes.
“Alex, love.” Gabriel is fretting, dropping Noah’s hand and sliding in beside me. His arm settles gently across my back as those tiny stars keep flickering across Noah’s mouth.
“Are you alright?” he asks, voice thick with genuine concern.
God. This is so fucked up.
“Let’s get you a drink, sí? A drink makes everyone happy.”
Of course it does.
Fucking Gabriel.
He’s trying though. At least that’s what I keep telling myself as he guides me through the overdone sprawl of our living room and toward the kitchen island. I sink onto a barstool, heavy and graceless, like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore.
I don’t even want to imagine what tonight is going to be like.
Actually—I can’t.
I can’t think.
There’s nothing. Just static. Just numb.
Noah takes the seat beside me.
Because why the fuck not?
“I’m Noah,” he says.
His voice is soft—too soft—and it washes over me like a lullaby I didn’t ask for. I tilt my eyes up, and there they are—those innocent blue ones staring straight back at me, and for a second I swear I might cry.
“Alex.” I manage to push out, barely.
He rests a hand on my knee, steadying its frantic bounce, because lord fucking knows I am anything but calm.
“Where the hell did Elijah put the bourbon?!” Gabriel snaps from across the room.
I grin inwardly as he rips through the cabinets like a man possessed. Looks like I pissed him off—which was exactly the point. I moved the liquor on purpose, just to unsettle him, just enough to remind him he’s not the only one who can play games.
What I hadn’t expected was for me to be the one who lost my footing. While he mutters and slams another cabinet door, I drop a shaky hand over Noah’s.
He doesn’t look nearly as rattled as I feel, which is a relief—and also… strange. Stranger, the longer I think about it.
