“Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?” I spin on my heel to see Noah standing in the doorway wearing only his jeans, his face full of pain.
“I’m sorry,” I say weakly.
“Are you fucking serious? You were just going to run after what we did, like it meant nothing?” he yells.
I wince at his words and the anger in his tone.
He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back.
“Noah, I have to go. I can’t be here right now.”
He shakes his head. “So, you’re just going to run?”
I shrug. “I’m just confused,” I yell back. “I don’t know how to feel, Noah. I don’t know what I want. I don’t think I’m ready for all this.”
“Well, I know what I want, Tor.”
I gesture my hands toward him. “What, what do you want?” I ask.
“You.” He says the word with ease and confidence. “I want you to be mine.”
I stand motionless and stunned. “You don’t mean that,” I say.
“Yes, I do, I am in lo—”
“Stop, please, please don’t finish that sentence,” I shout over him, not ready to hear what he has to say.
“Tori, I can’t help how I feel.”
“It’s not right,” I yell over him.
“Forget what’s right. Most things in this life aren’t right, Tor. I don’t regret last night, so please don’t run. Please don’t regret us.”
“Noah, this is messed up. This…” I gesture between us, “isn’t real. It’s trauma bonding. We’re only together because of Trent. He would—”
Noah interrupts. “Would want us to be happy.”
“With each other?” I ask, giving him a knowing look. “This isn’t love, Noah. This is two people trying to cope with losing someone we both loved very much. It’s not healthy for either of us. You don’t want me.”
And the way his shoulders sag and defeat flickers over his features, I know my words are sinking in.
A tear rolls down my cheek, and I feel my heart shattering.
“And you are wrong; I wanted you before I knew you were Scotty’s.” His confession knocks the wind from my lungs.
All this time?
“What?” I stare at him waiting for his answer, but he says nothing.
“Noah, what do you mean by that?” I ask again.
“It doesn’t matter. Forget it,” he mumbles. “You’ve made your decision anyway.” He gestures at my suitcase.
I take a step toward him, taking his hands in mine, hating what I’m about to say, but I know it’s for the best.
“I have leaned on you for too long, and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, and for that I will forever be grateful to you. But I think it’s time I stand on my own two feet and finish his life list by myself.”
He brings our connected hands to his lips and presses a kiss to mine.
