Mackie falls into a deep sleep, and I pull him closer, pressing my lips to his hair. There’s no going back now, but I worry about what it means for the morning. Will he be the one who walks away now? Will he go to Conan?
Will I lose him before I ever really have him?
It’s my own fault, yet he’s in my arms right now, and that’s what I focus on as I finally breathe again since the moment he turned away from me.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Groaning, I roll over, a frown marring my face when I don’t fall off the edge like usual. This bed is way too big and soft to be mine. That’s when it all comes back and I sit up, my fist on my chest as I look around. Daylight floods Noah’s room since he knows I like to wake up to it, and there’s water on the nightstand, but the room is empty other than me.
I’m naked, and I remember every single thing.
We . . . He . . . Shaking my head, I look at the empty spot next to me and panic.
Did he leave? Has he changed his mind?
Conan pops into my head, and guilt assaults me. I feel sick to my core. I’m going to have to tell him. I’m going to break his trust, and Noah might have already left, pushing me away again. I might have lost both of them because I’m greedy and can’t choose.
Is this what a panic attack feels like? Everything overwhelms me. I’m too hot, I can’t breathe, and I can’t move. It’s so fucking stupid, yet I can’t stop. I must look normal on the outside, but on the inside, I’m falling apart.
The more I try to breathe, the worse it gets, and when it finallypasses, I feel so stupid that I slide from the bed, tears in my eyes once more. I need to know.
Pulling myself together, I get dressed in some of Noah’s clothes, my hands shaking as I pull on sweatpants and tie them since he’s bigger. His shirt hangs to my knees and smells like him, and it comforts me as much as it hurts.
Opening the bedroom door, I pad downstairs on silent feet, expecting the house to be empty.
It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, like when you can’t look away from a crash. You know it’s going to happen, but you can’t tear your gaze away.
A noise causes me to stop on the last step, and I swear I see a ghost. Noah is moving around his kitchen in a tank top and shorts. Walking closer, I reach the island and hold on as he looks at me over his shoulder.
“Morning,” he calls while opening the fridge and grabbing some orange juice. I clutch the edge of the island as I watch him, waiting for his anger, but he pushes some juice toward me and turns away. “Drink that. It will help your stomach before we get some grease in you to absorb all that alcohol.”
He goes back to cooking, completely dismissing me. Never once does he touch or kiss me, nor does he mention last night.
He’s not acting like someone who hooked up with me. He’s acting like Noah, my boss, and I realize he will never give in to this. He might have when he was weak, but this morning, he’s back to pushing me away.
Nothing has changed.
I’m such an idiot.
I see my phone charging on the side, so I grab it, my stomach sinking when I see my messages.
Conan: Hope you got home okay.
Conan: I had such a good day and night withyou.
Conan: You must be asleep. Goodnight, baby boy. Dream of me.
Conan: Good morning, how did you sleep?
Sickness rolls through me, and my head jerks up as I look at Noah. I’m an idiot. I let him have me because I thought he needed me as much as I needed him, and now I’ve broken two hearts—mine and Conan’s.
Years of repressed anger consume me, and my hands shake on my phone as I glare at his back. “Fuck you, Noah.”
He spins in shock, standing frozen with a spoon halfway to his mouth. “What?” He seems genuinely confused, and that only pisses me off more. For once, I raise my voice at him and let out all the years of pain, yearning, guilt, and hopelessness.
“That’s all you have to say? Good morning and what? After everything?”
He frowns at me as his eyebrows draw together in confusion, but I don’t let him speak.
