Page 14 of Relapse

Noah was exactly where I’d left him. At the end of the hallway, he paced in short, restless strides, his arms raised with his hands locked behind his head, fingers digging into his scalp. He radiated stress.

“Hey,” I called as I approached. His neck snapped to the sound of my voice and he stopped mid stride.

“He coded,” he said, his voice quivering. He ran his hands through his hair, holding himself in place. “My mom fainted…Damian had to take her… she went to another section of the hospital and-and…oh shit.”

I crossed the remaining distance to him. “Oh my god, Noah. I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

His breaths came fast and uneven, his gaze flicking up and down the hallway every time someone moved. Kind of like he was expecting something to happen.

“Yeah… yeah. I’m fine,” he finally answered. “I’m just…here. And I don’t know what the hell to do.”

I reached for his hands, threading my fingers through his. “I’m here too,” I whispered.

That was all it took. Noah’s eyes dropped to mine, the tension in his face eased, like he was finally remembering how to breathe. A moment passed, heavy as we locked eyes together, and then he folded into me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders with desperate strength, pulling me against his chest, his body relaxing against me.

“God,” he breathed against my hair, “I’m so glad you are.”

Without hesitation, I curled into his grasp. My eyes fluttered shut. I needed him to know how much I wanted to ease his pain. I felt his hand slide up into my hair, pulling me closer.

The doors to the right of us slammed open, and Damian came rushing out.

“Brother,” he said, his tone low and serious. “We need to talk.”

“Is mom okay?” Noah asked, his hands slipping down from my head to the small of my back. He kept me close.

“She’s overwhelmed, but she’s stable. Listen, Noah,” Damian paused mid sentence. If I had to guess, he was considering his next words carefully. “We are going to have to speak to some of the other detectives,” he remarked, his eyes already tired and distant. “I told them we’d be speaking to them together.”

My eyes sought clarity in Noah’s expression, but deep down, I knew what this meant. I’d stayed long past my welcome.

Noah said nothing further to Damian. They sort of stared at each other, an unspoken language of understanding passing between them as brothers. Noah nodded, as if confirming something before looking back at me.

“It’s time to get you home,” he murmured, taking me by the hand and leading me to the elevator.

His fingers moved swiftly over the buttons, and he didn’t say anything to me as the doors snapped closed. We descended in silence, all the way down to the first floor. A sharp ding marked more than the end of the transportation for me. I’d be leaving Noah now, and more so than ever, I realized there was so much I had left unsaid.

Noah used his free hand to text something into his phone as we exited the elevator. “I am going to have the Hansen car take you home, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed, feeling his sense of urgency. I wished I didn’t have to go.

Tonight was slipping through my fingers quickly, the chaos of the evening beginning to sit on my shoulders like heavy weights. I didn’t want to leave Noah like this—in the hospital, his family injured, and so many unanswered questions from police who didn’t seem to be taking this attack seriously. I hadn’t even had the opportunity to talk with Noah about what had happened during my conversation with the cop.

My body ached with how much worry built up in my chest for him. I just wanted him to be okay.

More than anything, I wished I could tell him how I felt.

NOAH

When automatic doors opened, the ride was already parked and ready to go on the curb. The streets were quiet and the red EMERGENCY sign glowed bright in the darkness above our heads. Oddly enough, employee traffic in and out from the hospital was low too. Once David had been rushed behind closed doors, it was as if everything else in the world just went back to normal. That was how insignificant we were. Nothing the hospital hadn’t seen before.

This left me feeling small. More so than usual. I often questioned my purpose here on Earth, but now, with David’s resuscitation and injuries, I was feeling even more isolated than before.

David had enacted injury upon me beyond comprehension. But some sick, perverted part of me still registered that as a connection. Something only we knew. Something that was my past and now my present. Pain that I had internalized. Pain that had become my normal routine.

Even my thoughts sounded like him sometimes. Like his disappointment in me.

And now, the world continued turning and his life hung in the balance. As much as I hated myself for it, I didn’t know how to feel. I wanted something that his death couldn’t provide me, and I was afraid of what life would look like if I never received it.

What if he never told me why? Would he ever take accountability?