I pick the first one that pops into my head. “We work together. She’s already proven herself an asset to the team. Let’s say we start dating. It gets serious. And then—” I exhale sharply through my nose. “Then I act like an asshole, we break up, and she quits.”
Noah shuts his eyes and nods slowly, like he’s rolling the words around in his head before responding. When he opens them again, he leans forward in the chair, elbows braced on his knees. His voice is careful, but I can tell it’s taking effort for him not to snap. “There’s a simple solution for that.” He lets thesilence stretch just long enough to make me bristle. Then, deadpans, “Don’t be an asshole.”
A harsh scoff escapes me. “Like it’s that easy.”
“It’s exactly that easy,” he groans, throwing his hands up. “Here’s what you do. Before you say or do anything, ask yourself: would an asshole do this? And if the answer’s yes, don’t fucking do it.”
I drag my hands through my hair, tugging until my scalp stings, because he makes it sound simple. Like flipping a switch. But it’s not simple. People are flawed. People screw up. And when they do, people get hurt. I don’t want Elliot or Sam anywhere near the shrapnel that follows in my wake.
“Look, Ace.” Noah stands, pushing off his knees, and slides his hands into the pockets of his track pants. He rocks back on his heels, watching me with the kind of patience that borders on pity. “I know you haven’t exactly been in a lot of healthy relationships. I know your dad did a number on you, your sister, and your mom?—”
I can’t help but grimace. Noah is one of the only people I’ve ever talked to about my parents, my childhood. Back when we were young and drunk and ripping on our shit fathers.
“I’m just saying… just because you haven’t seen many good relationships doesn’t mean they don’t exist. You’re a good guy. You act like you’re in this never-ending tough bastard era, but you care. You take care of people. You wouldn’t be able to lead this team the way you do if you didn’t.”
The words slide under my armour. I want to believe him. I want to see myself the way he does, not as some by-product of bad bloodlines and worse examples. But the thing about walls is, once you build them high and thick enough, it’s hard to see through them.
“I just want you to know,” Noah adds softly, “it’s okay to let people in. Not everyone’s going to burn you.”
My throat feels tight. “What if I mess up and ruin everything?”
“What if you don’t?” His eyes are steady on mine. “What if you end up happy?”
Happiness has always felt…unrealistic. A luxury for other people. I’d settle for contentment.
“I’m not sure men like me get to be happy,” I admit, voice low.
Noah nods, his smile faint, touched with sadness. “Maybe. But you could try.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, forcing a nod of my own. “I could try.”
“You want a hug?”
I frown at him. “In the two decades we’ve known each other, I’ve never wanted a hug, Noah.”
He grins at me on his way out. “Just thought I’d check. First time for everything.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ELLIOT
Elliot: Does Sunday work for you again this week? Same bat time? Same bat place?
Arthur: ??
Elliot: It’s from the original Batman TV series
Arthur: I just looked it up. That was on 25 years before you were even born
Elliot: True. But I was practically raised by my living room television and the reruns were on a lot
Arthur: Interesting
Arthur: Sunday doesn’t work for me. We leave on Saturday afternoon for Detroit
Elliot: Rock City! I’ve never been. Want to push it off until next Sunday?
Arthur: Could we meet Friday evening? I understand if you have plans
