Page 83 of Until Then

My heart skips in my chest. Noah is sprawled over the center of his bed, unmoving. One hand has scabbed, reddened knuckles. Bare from the waist up, his head is turned away from me, and in the dark I can’t make out if his chest is moving.

“Noah.” New tears blur his figure. I press a palm to the spot between his shoulders. His skin is warm, his body twitches. I blow out a breath until I see a pill bottle on the ground, white specks scattered around it. I drop to my knees in front of the bed in a frenzy and shake his shoulders. “Noah. Wake up. Noah, please wake up.”

He stirs, lifts his head. His hair stands on end, and his face is coated in scruff. Noah is disheveled, but breathing.

I let out a choked sob.

He blinks through the darkness and focuses on my face. “Wildfire?”

I don’t wait, in truth, I can’t. My arms fling around his neck, and I squeeze his head against me. A shudder rocks my shoulders.

Noah’s large palm runs gently down my back. “Hey. Don’t cry.”

“You . . . you . . .” I hiccup and tighten my hold. “You didn’t answer and you weren’t moving. What are these pills!”

Noah eases out of my chokehold slowly and glances down. “Oh. I wasn’t sure if I needed to take them, but I drank too much. Didn’t dare mix it.”

I blink. “You didn’t take any?”

“Sorry.” He groans and reaches down to pick up the bottle. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” With that, Noah pulls away and flops back onto his pillows, back turned toward me. “You don’t need to stay,” he mumbles into the pillow. “You don’t need to deal with this.”

Him. He doesn’t want me to deal with him. The darker pieces we talked about—these are Noah’s.

I glance at the pill bottle he left unattended. My chin trembles. They’re a type of antidepressant.

If the man thinks I’m leaving him alone to suffer in his thoughts, he’s going to have a rude awakening. I take time to send a text to Rees, letting him know I found him, he’s all right, a little drunk, but I’ll stay with him.

The response is instant. A text of thanks, but still with the assurance he’s flying out tonight.

Relief is heady. There is a bond between those two, and I’ll be glad for Rees’s support. Until then, Noah’s going to get me.

I send quick texts to his friends and my mom to assure them all he’s with me now, then I turn off my phone and leave it on thefloor. With care, I slip onto his bed on the opposite side, rolling onto my shoulder to face him.

The motion of the mattress causes Noah to crack one eye. “Hayley.”

“Noah.” I smile softly and let a hand fall to his cheek.

“You shouldn’t be dealing with this.”

“Yes, I should.” My thumb runs along his jaw.

His brow furrows. His voice is rough. “Not very glamorous, am I?”

I scoot closer, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Noah doesn’t fight it and nestles his face against my neck. He smells like alcohol. He’s too warm. I only hold him tighter.

“I’ll take the not so glamorous pieces, Pretty Boy.”

Noah’s strong arm drapes over my waist and he holds me against him—legs, arms, all threaded with mine—and his shoulders shake. More than once he breathes heavy; it trembles. I feel the salty heat of tears drip onto my chest.

I don’t move.

I never will.

It doesn’t take long before his breathing deepens and evens out. His grip loosens. I lift my head. Noah’s face is at peace, less haunted. I run a thumb over the remaining tension between his brows and kiss him there, then return to our tangled position, my cheek resting on the top of his head.

Over an hour later, Noah stirs. He groans and rubs his head.

“Hi,” I whisper.

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