Page 26

Everything goes black, and I hear my dad’s voice in my ear. Barely a whisper. “Look what you’ve done.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to look. I can’t.

“Open your eyes, son, and look at what you’ve done.”

I’m woken by a scream tearing from my throat.

“Jesus Christ.” The bed shifts next to me. “Noah?”

In my head, I’m screaming. I’m yelling that I’m sorry, over and over and over. Still, nothing comes out of my mouth.

I lie there panting as Robbie’s voice slowly soothes me, telling me I’m okay, that I’m safe with him. Eventually he goes quiet, and I listen to his soft breathing as he falls back asleep. I count every single breath, too scared to fall asleep in case they stop.

He rolls over in his sleep, and his arm pushes against mine. I flinch, but then the pressure becomes necessary. It holds me here in the present while my head fights to drag me into the past.

I can’t sleep. Not now. Maybe never again.

I don’t understand why Jamie’s not here.

ROBBIE

“Morning, sweetheart.”

“Piss off,” Noah grumbles into his pillow.

I grin, turning my head to find him facing me. He’s perched right on the edge of his side of the bed, scowling at me. His nose scrunches up, and I just wanna boop it. Self-preservation kicks in and I resist the urge to antagonise the little monster, rolling out of bed to head downstairs to the kitchen.

Ever since he turned up on my doorstep, I’ve been on my best behaviour, but I still can’t help the little things—like calling him sweetheart and flirting a little. But everything else, I’ve done as he asked.

He’s slept in my bed for two more nights since the first time, and I haven’t touched him. Even on the first night when he yelled and scared the shit out of me. I let him sit there and catch his breath, tried to reassure him with my words only—that I was there, and that he was alright. That seemed to help. I think.

I still want to know more about the nightmares and why he’s having so many of them, but he’s not giving me a thing. The vulnerability he’d dangled in front of me the other day was snatched right back as soon as I let him stay. It’s frustrating, having a front-row seat to someone’s torment and not being able to do fuck all about it. I’ve gone through the same thing with Theo for years. He’s even more closed off than Noah, and I’ve been best friends with him since he was three.

I pull a frying pan off a hook and place it on the hob, flicking on the gas. Today is the last day before the wedding, so I assume Theo and Bailey will be back at some point. If not, I’m pretty sure a certain redhead may actually explode.

Isla’s been fussing about with the wedding like a woman possessed the past few days, and even though I’m the man of honour, I abandoned ship and left her to it. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t noticed. After she shouted at Theo for not knowing the difference between ivory and cream napkins, I realised the devil has taken over my friend.

The good thing about her getting married is that she’s now Richard’s problem.

If I wasn’t already against the idea of commitment, Isla certainly would have put me off for life. Having to deal with someone else’s stress all the time. Having to share my space with someone constantly. Worrying about them getting hurt—or worse.

The realisation that I’ve been dealing with all of that with Noah for the past three days smacks me in the face, and I stand there frozen, spatula in hand.

“It’s not the same,” I grumble to myself.

I flip the eggs, then slide them out of the pan onto two slices of sourdough, sprinkling with salt and pepper. I’ve never claimed to be a good cook, but I can at least fuel my body with minimal effort.

By the time I get back to the bedroom, Noah is fast asleep again—lying on his stomach, one leg cocked out to the side, the duvet kicked off. His pert arse wrapped in tight, hot-pink briefs is on full display. I tilt my head, taking in the bulge where his cock and balls are squished against the mattress.

What is it with him and pink?

I shake my head, dragging my gaze away from him. “Breakfast’s ready, Your Highness. Up you get.”

“Not hungry,” he mumbles.

“Come on, you’re a grown man, not a teenager.”

Silence.