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It’s worse than normal, as if being in Noah’s house is forcing things back to the top of my mind. I can’t shake the thoughts of her, of everything that’s happened.
There are fifty missed calls when I turn my phone back on. Mostly from my parents.
“Are you okay?” The call only rings once before my mom picks up, the question leaving her lips in a rush.
“I’m fine,” I tell her, trying my best to keep my voice even.
“Mikaela, I’ve been so worried!” Her voice is shrill and panicked, and I can hear my father in the background asking if it’s me on the phone.
Guilt bubbles up in my chest, a pain running through me. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“It’s okay, just tell me where you are? Are you alright?” her voice is strained, worried. My heart aches knowing how much pain I’ve put them through.
“I’m with Noah,” I whisper.
As I speak his name, I see him linger in the doorway to the guest room. He’s keeping his distance, letting me talk to my mom, but he’s there watching me.
“I know,” she says softly. “I saw the show.”
The way she says the word “show” feels like a bullet to my chest. She’s not wrong though, that's what it was. All a show, a ploy to make the public fall for Noah, the sweet doting fiancé.
Even so, I look up at him standing in the doorway in his black joggers, white t-shirt tight against his chest. His dark eyes are watching me, and even though it should feel ominous, I feel safe.
I probably shouldn’t, but I can’t help it.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, repeating myself.
“Mikaela, tell me what’s going on? Why are you with him?” she pleads.
I don’t know what to tell her. I shouldn’t be here, I should walk out, tell him to fuck off. He’s barely given me a reason to stay, been nothing but demanding since he dragged me here. Still, he asked me to trust him and I said yes.
My gaze flashes to the ring on my nightstand. The huge fucking rock. How many times have I looked at my bare finger over the past year and felt empty?
Hollow.
“I’m okay,” I try to reassure her. “I’m just, I’m good here, okay? Let me just… see what happens.”
I hear her sniffle, I’m afraid she’s trying to hide her tears from me on the other end. “Okay,” she whispers. “I trust you, Mikaela, but please call me if you need me. And text me to let me know you’re okay.”
“I will,” I tell her, trying my best to hold my own tears in.
We hang up and I set my phone off to the side. My parents have been broken since Auden’s death, but also overprotective of me. Almost as if they fear the same thing will happen to me. Since they believe Noah’s the reason behind Auden’s death, I can’t blame them for not wanting me here.
“You okay?” he asks, still standing in the doorway, watching over me.
I nod, “Yeah, I think so.”
He stalks into the room slowly, coming to the edge of the bed where I’m sitting and hovering over me. His palm reaching for my cheek, warming the cool skin on my face. I find myself leaning into his touch.
“I’m sorry this is so hard for you, baby girl,” he whispers. “If I could take away your pain, I would.”
I believe him when he says it, but what he fails to realize is, he is my pain. He forced his way into my life and set me ablaze, lighting up my world until everything about me was burning in his hot flames. Then just as quickly it all turned to ash.
“We’ll get through this, baby. You just have to trust me.” He leans in and kisses my forehead softly, the gesture giving me goosebumps. “Do you trust me?” he asks.
I don’t respond, instead I stay silent while he kisses my forehead, the tip of my nose, and down to my lips. He’s leaning down now so his face is directly in front of mine. Do I trust him? A year ago I would have said I trusted him with my life. Love isn’t strong enough of a word to describe how I felt about Noah Bancroft. Now? I’m not so sure.
“Mikaela,” he says, using my full name, something he only does when he's being serious. I’m normally baby, baby girl, or Mik. “Answer me, baby. Do you trust me?”
