Page 87 of I Never Stopped Loving You

No, that scar that runs along my hairline was from the first time he stabbed her. I don’t know where he was aiming, but he missed his target, and it sliced along the top of her collarbone. The blade continued and sliced along my forehead. She wrapped her body around me more just to shield me from his rage.

My fingers tighten around the countertop edge. I can feel a panic attack coming on, but I need to calm myself. I can’t break down here. Not in Noah’s house. What would he think?

He’d never let me be part of their firm if he knew the truth about me. The trauma that lingers in the back of my mind at all times. But what no one understands is that in a courtroom, that’s the only time I feel at peace…Well, except now I feel that same sense of peace and control when I’m with him.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, letting my lungs fill with his scent. The warmth from the shower still lingers in the air. The marble counter feels cool beneath my touch, grounding me here. I’m safe.

On the next deep breath, I catch the faintest scent of coffee, and my stomach growls. I flex my fingers, allowing my muscles to release their tension as the panic attack begins to subside.

One last glance in the mirror proves I’m more put together than I saw just a moment ago. My skin looks brighter and healthier today, despite the amount of alcohol last night and the slight hangover I’m still feeling. I slept so well. No nightmares…I don’t even know if I dreamed. I just drifted weightlessly through the serene darkness that surrounded me, and yet I wasn’t afraid.

I quietly open the door and look down the flight of stairs. Is this room an attic? I glance around one last time at the large space before tiptoeing down the stairs. They creak as I get to the last couple, then an even louder creak as I step down into the hallway. This house is huge. Looking left and right, I can see a few more closed doors and a double staircase leading down to the main floor.

I can hear low music playing, and the smell of food hits me. It smells like breakfast. Eggs, maybe bacon, and definitely coffee. Fuck yes.

I make my way down to his main floor. The carpet on the steps feels so soft beneath my feet. A large wooden front door with frosted glass greets me as I step off the stairs. It’s huge down here. Much bigger than any place I’ve ever lived in before. I can hear him off to my right, but my curiosity is getting the better of me. I want to see more of his house.

I decide to go left through an archway that leads into a sitting parlor. A black piano sits in the corner. There’s a fireplace with a large mirror above it. Dark wood flooring and dark leather furniture fill this room. It’s cozy.

There’s another archway on the left wall, and I’m curious if it leads around in a full circle. The scent of food is practically drawing me in. As I continue, I find the next room is a dining room with a set of double doors closed on the opposite wall. I assume they lead to the kitchen because I can hear his music louder in here. The dining room is huge, too. It can seat at least ten people, given the way it’s set up.

Why does one person need so much space?

The music cuts off, and I quickly make my way back to the foyer just as another song starts. The other side of the foyer has a set of wide open double doors, leading into what appears to be a small library. Two chairs are facing each other in front of another fireplace along the wall. An archway leads to a front room that I swear to God is the size of three of my bedrooms back home. Yeah, I’m definitely curious why a single guy needs this much space.

The thing that immediately catches my eye is the number of windows overlooking the backyard. The ground has a layer of frost from last night, and the lake is starting to freeze causing chunks of ice to build up along the shore with each crashing wave.

Movement off to my right pulls my attention. I can see Noah in the kitchen with his back to me. He’s wearing black sweatpants like the ones he left for me, and a black T-shirt.

He’s moving around the kitchen so easily as he quietly sings along to his playlist. When he slides across the floor from the stove to the fridge, I can’t help but laugh. He spins towards me and drops the bowl he was holding. It crashes to the floor, splashing what looks like pancake batter everywhere.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

I quickly run over, grab the towel off of the counter, and kneel down to start wiping off the cabinets.

“No. It’s okay. I didn’t hear you walk in. I guess I was too focused on the music and cooking,” he laughs as he picks up the pieces of the shattered bowl, then wipes up the floor.

It’s only then that I take in his messy look. Pancake batter is splattered everywhere from when the bowl shattered, but he already seemed to have gotten a lot on his shirt. There are also a few splatters in his hair and on his face.

“Did a bomb go off?” I ask, laughing.

“What?”

“A bomb. In the pancake mix.”

“It’s uh…for the waffles.”

He gestures over to the waffle maker on the counter. It’s a vertical one that you fill to make the big, fluffy Belgian waffles. There’s batter flowing out of the top and all over the counter.

“I’ve never used it before, and I think I overfilled it,” he laughs as he wipes a small spot of batter from his face. “Jeremy bought it for me as a housewarming gift. He said waffles are the best breakfast food when you want to impress someone.”

Is he blushing?

“Well, I’m impressed that you managed to get it literally everywhere.” I reach to try to wipe away some that splattered in his hair, but he stops me.

“I’ll go grab a fresh towel.”

“Or you could just give me your shirt. It’s messy anyway.”