Nothing forces a man to admit his feelings for a woman more than witnessing the interest of another man.
That’s what Noah said to me the day we met.
Chase was across the fire, watching with worry as a man I’d only met held my attention, and held it he did.
That was when ‘we’ began.
The massage in the living room.
The ice cream in the kitchen.
Our night on the beach.
Once we crossed that line, the one there’s said to be no going back from, back we went.
Chase made a choice, and while it hurt, I understood.
I respected his decision, and then I fell apart.
That’s when Noah came along.
Little by little, I was put back together. I fell in love, and then my world was turned upside down, and I realized, I was already in love. Before.
Long before.
Sitting here today, I see what I didn’t then. The beauty in the subtle touch, the longing in the stolen glance. Those things came back to me in wild waves, as did their timing.
After the note with Noah’s number on.
After the hoodie with his number.
After I took back what I’d given away and offered it to another.
And this time, the man I begged to accept it didn’t only love me back.
He loved me first.
Once Chase realized this, fear shook him, drew him out of the corner he placed himself into, but by then, it was too late.
I was already gone.
But when I think about our time, there’s no sadness anymore. I don’t feel shorted or cheated. I realize now that it had to happen as it did. Chase had to be the one or things would have ended a lot differently.
I think he knows it too, which is why his green eyes fall to his clasped hands when he asks, “So uh, if I would have never pushed you away? If I would have fought for you from the beginning?”
It takes him a moment, but he looks to me again.
“Then I would have been the one who hurt you.” My tone is gentle, but honest.
Chase nods. He knows what I’m saying. Quilt washes over him, and he sighs. “I’m really sorry, Ari. Truly. I wish like hell I didn’t hurt you and that things were different for us, but I understand. I’ve understood, to be honest. I could see the way you loved him, and when you suddenly didn’t remember him, I thought maybe that meant you were supposed to be mine all along. I shouldn’t have stepped in. I should have waited to see what you decided and been there for you when you needed me to be… if you needed me to be. I was afraid, and I have no other excuse, but I am ashamed, and I do care about you. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” I nod, and when I stand, he stands with me, pulling me in for a hug.
“I have to go,” I whisper.
“I know you do.” He releases me, the smile on his lips sad, but encouraging. “I’m happy for you, Arianna. You deserve a man like Noah.”
With a small smile, I turn and walk out.
What I said to Chase was true.
Had he not been the one to hurt me from the start, I would have hurt him in a much different way, because I still would have found Noah. There is no doubt in my mind.
Just as there’s none in my mind as to where to find him now.
The sun is minutes away from setting as I’m pulling off the road, so I say a silent plea he’s still here, and I’m not disappointed. The moment I turn the corner, his truck comes into view, so I throw the Tahoe into park, grab my things off the seat and rush up the small hillside.
As I reach its peak, my entire body warms, he’s sitting exactly where I expected, the glow of the sun creating the perfect Noah-sized silhouette.
My steps are near silent, yet he still knows I’m coming, and he whips around so fast I jump.
His eyes widen, and then narrow, and then he’s hastily shoving something into his pocket, but not before I catch a glimpse of what it is.
My heart seizes and I lower to my knees beside him, my body facing his as he sits facing forward.
I set my backpack aside and offer a small smile, fighting off the prickling feeling threatening of tears.
“Can I see that?”
Moisture clouds Noah’s eyes, and without taking his off me, he digs into his pocket and pulls out what he tried to hide. A football, but not just any football.
A tiny white, fluffy one, no bigger than the palm of his hand.
Taking it between my fingers, I spin it around, and my throat grows thick.
Stitched along the front, where the seam of the football should be, is a soft yellow threading that reads Little Riley.
“This… this is for—” I swallow, meeting his gaze.
Noah’s jaw is locked tight, but he manages a nod.
“We didn’t even get to love him. Her.” My voice cracks, the tears dropping. “Not even for one day.”
Noah grows rigid, his gaze sweeping over my face with urgency.
Holding the tiny football close, I reach for the backpack at my side, blindly digging inside.
It’s with shaky hands, I place the small bag between us. I try but fail to keep the cracking out of my voice as I meet his stare once more. “Happy Birthday, Noah.”
His nostrils flare, his nose turning red. “Juliet—”
“Open it,” I murmur.
His body shakes as he pulls the tissue paper free, and as he sees what’s inside, nothing but a single twenty-dollar football, the same gift his mom would give him every year for his birthday, but isn’t here to do so today, the moisture in his eyes doubles.
Noah’s chin falls to his chest, and he buries his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and my own grow choppier.
I jolt forward, and the second my hand touches his, he looks up into my eyes, and he sees it.
He sees me.
His palms lift, cupping my cheeks gently, and I lean into his touch, reaching up to hold him there as he stares longingly. “Baby…” he mutters desperately. “Did you come back to me?”
“My god, Noah.” I choke on my own tears, pressing my forehead to his. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when she died and I’m sorry you’ve been alone and I’m just… I’m so sorry,” I cry, gripping his hands with my own. “I abandoned you.”
“Shh, baby, no.” He swallows hard, shaking his head. “Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry. You just had to find your way back.” His eyes close. “I thought I lost you. Are you mine?” he worries, his voice lower than a trembling whisper. “Please… say you’re mine.”
I nod rapidly, my hands gliding along his face. “Always. Forever.”
A harsh breath pushes past his lips, and he shakes. “Say it.”
My eyes pop open, locking with his as I grip and hold him still, whispering, “I swear.”
Noah doesn’t hesitate, his mouth crushes mine.
His kiss is hard and deep, it’s devastating and awakening. It’s claiming.
His kiss is a promise from his soul to mine, that no matter what happens, this is home.
He is home.
