Page 155 of You Fall First

Calling Noah my favorite person out loud could be another example of Jo Michaels going too far, too fast.

That does seem to be my specialty.

But in this moment, when he’s this heartsore, my instinct is to bare my heart back to him. “You’re the most generous man I know.”

A low groan slips from his throat. “I’m not sure that matters anymore.”

I swallow, press on a weak smile. “Why is that?”

His eyes lock on mine, sad and searching, beseeching.

And I know.

Tears push at the bridge of my nose. “You’re going with them.”

“I didn’t say that.” His voice is a low, gravelly whisper.

“You don’t have to say it.” Silence lengthens between us, with only the birds overhead interrupting.

Beside me, Noah is warm and strong and steady.

And he has to go.

“You just got your sister back.” I choke. “You’ve had a taste of what it’s like to be around Dutton again. You want that. You need them.” Saying the words feels like plucking my ribs out one by one.

Am I really talking the man I’m falling for into leaving me?

“I do need them.” He drops his chin and drags a hand over his face. “But I need you too.”

My insides ache.

This is a declaration that, at any other time in my life, would’ve made my soul sing. And the song’s still there, begging to be unleashed. I want to throw my arms around Noah and blurt that I feel the same. That I don’t want him to go. But I can’t be the one who keeps Noah from the only family he has left.

This moment is bigger than me.

It’s about the Stadlers belonging together.

Even if they don’t belong here.

“When are they leaving?” I bite back a hiccupy sob.

“Soon,” Noah groans. “Paige feels terrible enough already, and she wants Dutton home again, so they can get back to their new, new normal.”

“My little space ranger,” I whisper. “I’m gonna miss him so much.”

Noah’s jagged exhale is another reminder that however much I wish his sister and Dutton would stay, he’s got me beat by a mile.

Complaining is cruel. I need to focus on them. On him.

“When did this even happen?” I ask.

He lays his palms on his knees, bracing. “I guess she’s been thinking about not staying here all along, before she even brought Dutton here. But she didn’t want to hurt me or disappoint me. So she kept dragging on in denial, hoping her feelings would change. Once she got here, though …” The sentence trails off, sad and unfinished.

“You had no idea?”

“Nope.” His knuckles go white. “She finally told me last night,” he says. “After.”

After.