Page 47 of Fifty-Fifty

“Then I told you that someday I’d own my own shop. That my dream was to leave my mark on as many people as I could for the rest of my life.”

He shoves the sleeve of his shirt down before sliding his arms back into his jacket.

“Don’t give up on your dream for some girl, Noah. It’d be the biggest regret of your life.”

I try to swallow past the lump in my throat, but it feels like I’m choking.

Hastily, I reach for the bottle on the table and down the rest of its contents in a few deep pulls.

And the entire time, I can’t help but wonder what my greatest regret will really be.

Chapter Sixteen

Beau

I know somethin' ain't right. I can feel it in my soul. Noah's been gone all day. He's been showin' his friends around town. Bein' a tour guide and experiencin' the festivities while Mac and I sit at home, terrified we'll run into them. Terrified Noah will look at me with goodbye in his eyes like he did yesterday after his little talk with Slater.

I pushed him away this mornin’. That’s on me. But I didn’t know what else to do. I want him to stay more than my next breath, but I won’t make that decision for him. I can’t.

His friends are supposed to check out in a couple days, and I'm afraid Noah will be checkin' out right along with them. The thought sits like a stone in my gut.

I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised. It's just like last time. Hittin' it off at the coffee shop. Feelin' the sparks fly. Only to find out I'm someone's dirty little secret all over again. Someone's side piece. Only this time? He’s cheatin’ on his dream by playin’ house with a girl who doesn’t deserve his affection instead of goin’ after what he really wants. A tear slides down my cheek and soaks into the white pillow case.

I'm lyin' in bed while huggin' Noah's pillow to my chest. I didn't bother to change the sheets today because they still smell like him. Like leather and oil and sunshine all mixed together.

I bury my head into the pillow and take a deep breath, commitin' the scent to memory. Somehow I know it'll be one of the last times I smell it.

The door slams downstairs, remindin' me of the night before when I hear boisterous laughter from the first floor.

I always lock the door at night to make my guests ring the bell, but Noah has a key, so their arrival didn't pull me from my bed. It’s probably for the best, even though I’m dyin’ to see him again. I’m afraid it might be my last.

Warily, I listen to the noises coming from the hallway. Deep laughter. Slaps on the back. Heavy footsteps. And then the distinct sound of doors closing.

One.

Two.

Three.

I count them off in my head.

There’s one more door that has yet to close, and the truth of that is frightening.

My breathin’ stops when I see the door handle turnin’, makin’ my heart skip a beat.

There’s a soft glow from the lamp sittin’ on an end table down the hallway. Its light casts a tall man’s shadow across the room, and I’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

Lickin’ my lips, I ask, “Why are you here?”

His gruff voice answers, “We need to talk.”

My brows furrow. “Right now?”

I don’t want to talk. I want him to hold me. And when has anythin’ good ever come from that sayin’?

He takes a step closer, his heavy boots thumping against the creaky floors.

“Shh!” I shush him. “I don’t want y'all to wake up Mac. She was hell to put to bed tonight.”

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