I shake my head.
“I’d probably borrow your dog when you’re not home,” I admit. “Win-win.”
“I’m always home, remember?” Noah laughs, shooting me a mock-annoyed look. “You said it yourself—I never leave my apartment.”
I laugh too, the tension easing out of my shoulders. I’m surprised by how suddenly good this moment feels. Being with Noah is easy, and that catches me off guard.
For a while I just sit there with my arms around him, letting the horse carry us down the trail. At some point, without me noticing, it stops feeling like a threat. And for the first time since we climbed into the saddle, I realize I’m actually enjoying myself.
CHAPTER 5. Noah
I wake with a start, disoriented by unfamiliar shadows stretching across an unfamiliar ceiling. The mattress beneath me feels too soft, too wide—nothing like my tiny lumpy bed at home. For a moment, my brain struggles to place where I am, the confusion deepened by how quiet everything is. No sirens. No Mrs. Horowitz arguing with her husband through paper-thin walls. No garbage trucks backing up with that incessant beeping. Just silence, broken only by the gentle whisper of wind through trees outside.
Then it clicks—the Berkshires. My father’s birthday weekend. The cottages.
I turn my head toward the other side of the bed, half-expecting to find Connor there, but his side is empty, the covers pulled back neatly. Through the wide windows, the sky has darkened to gray-blue, daylight fading fast. How long have I been asleep?
I prop myself up on my elbows, wincing as my thighs protest the movement. They’re sore in a way I haven’t felt in years, muscles I apparently never use at the gym making their displeasure known. The horseback ride. Right. An hour of sitting astride that massive horse with Connor behind me, his chest pressed against my back, his hands on my hips. Every time thehorse took an uneven step, his grip would tighten, and I’d feel his breath catch against my neck.
I remember returning to the cottage afterward, both of us tired and quiet. Connor claimed the shower first while I collapsed on the bed, scrolling mindlessly through emails I had no intention of answering. When he emerged in a cloud of steam wearing just a towel, I pretended to be deeply fascinated by my phone screen.
After my own shower, I came back to the bedroom wearing sweatpants and a worn T-shirt to find Connor already half-asleep on top of the covers, a book open on his chest—Daphne du Maurier’sThe Scapegoat. He must have pulled it from the bookshelf, because Connor doesn’t exactly seem like the type to read Daphne du Maurier. I lay down beside him, careful to maintain a respectful distance, just to rest my eyes for a minute.
And now it’s evening. So much for “just a minute.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, stretching my arms overhead until my back pops satisfyingly. Through the open window, distant laughter carries on the breeze. My family must be outside. I wonder if Connor’s with them.
In the bathroom, I splash water on my face and try to tame my hair, which has decided to rebel against gravity in several different directions at once. I give up after thirty seconds and pull on a gray hoodie over my T-shirt, then pull on my sneakers before heading downstairs.
The cottage is silent except for the soft creak of wooden floorboards beneath my feet. When I open the front door, cool evening air rushes to meet me, carrying the scents of pine and lake water. It’s the kind of clean air that makes you realizehow polluted the city actually is, as if your lungs are suddenly remembering how breathing is supposed to feel.
I follow the path down toward the lake, where I can see my parents standing at the water’s edge. Dad is toweling off, his hair still wet, while Mom gestures animatedly as she talks. Further out in the water, two figures swim with powerful strokes—Maya and Connor, cutting through the lake’s surface in parallel lines.
Mom spots me first, waving me over with that too-bright smile that means she’s in full vacation mode.
“Noah, sweetheart! Did you have a nice nap?”
She pulls me into a hug as soon as I come over, and I let her, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I say. “Didn’t mean to sleep so long.”
“You needed it,” she says, patting my cheek like I’m still ten years old. “The cooks are preparing dinner in the Main Cottage. Should be ready in about thirty minutes.” She pauses, then adds, “Oh, and the Scotts will be arriving soon.”
The mention of the Scotts sends a nervous flutter through my chest. Rick. I’m going to see Rick. And Cassidy.
Dad finishes drying his hair and drapes the towel around his neck. “Water’s perfect,” he says. “Cold at first, but you get used to it.”
I nod, but my attention has already drifted to the lake. Connor and Maya are racing now, their bodies slicing through the water. Connor’s broader shoulders break the surface as he pulls ahead, tattoos visible even in the fading light. He reachesthe floating dock first, touching it with one hand before turning back toward shore.
When he notices me standing there, he lifts an arm and waves.
A weird little rush goes through me before I can help it. He looks so at home here, so comfortable with my family already. Maya splashes him as she catches up, and he laughs, the sound carrying across the water.
“Come swim with us, Noah!” he shouts. “The water’s great. Once you get past the initial shock!”
I laugh and shake my head. “No way. It’s too cold!”
My mom smiles beside me. “It’s really not bad once you’re in,” she says, and I can tell she just wants to make sure I’m not ignoring my boyfriend, since she’s completely dry herself.
