Page 54 of Return To You

“One day, I’m going to buy us this house,” Noah whispers as we walk past the Victorian mansion only a street away from my father’s house, his arm firmly around my shoulders, my body burrowed into his side.

I smile and admit, “As long as you’re with me, Noah, I don’t care where we live….”

He grins and presses his lips against mine as we keep walking, not caring if we bump into someone.

“It’s the house he said he would buy you if we ever got signed,” Barnett whispers, bringing me out of the memory from three years ago, and a few tears fall. Cameron leans over, wiping them away, giving me a sympathetic smile.

Looking out the window to look at the home we planned for our future, I notice Noah standing on the porch, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes on the vehicle we’re in.

Damn, why does he look so good in a wife beater and jeans?

“He just wants to talk, Rose. It’s been two years, and you both—you’re still holding onto the pain,” Barnett whispers. “And yes, it’s given us our careers, but we’d rather our family notcontinueto hurt….”

I bite my bottom lip, trying to control the tears that keep falling, but it’s useless. With a nod, I climb out of the SUV, and Noah drops his arms, relief filling his features.

I slowly walk over to him but stop just shy of the first step.

He tilts his head, his eyes taking in my normal tee and jeans before we make eye contact. He nods to the house and rasps, “Let me show you around, Petal.” I swallow hard and look at the house, my feet not wanting to move, and he whispers, “Please, Rose….”

Everything in me is telling me to turn around and run away, the pain and fear with what he put me through clouding everything but a small part of me, the part that still holds the hope a girl should never feel when it comes to a man who hurt you…hope we could survive….

Wiping my cheeks, I climb the stairs, and Noah’s body visibly sags with relief.

I don’t accept the hand he holds up, making him sigh, but I do walk into the house, my eyes coming to the living area.

I bite my bottom lip hard, seeing the décor, something I would have picked out for my own home.

There are light gray walls, a black corner couch, a dark gray rug in the middle of the room, and a glass coffee table. There’s a box of toys underneath the large window, but my eyes go to the marble fireplace, which has pictures of Noah and me growing up on the mantel.

“The uh, couch was originally a dark gray, but I allowed Gina to stay for a few weeks after she got kicked outta college, and she…uh, yeah. So I, uh, had it changed,” Noah stutters, and Inod, understanding what he’s trying to say; his sister is a whore, after all, so yeah, I’d burn the old couch, too.

God knows which STIs his sister has.

Ignoring the curved staircase, I walk toward the open kitchen area, which has a large bar separating it from the living area. I look to my right and see an arched doorway and a glass dining table. I walk toward the double doors leading to the backyard.

More tears fall when I see the rose garden opposite what appears to be a swing set under construction.

I feel Noah stand behind me, his front just shy of touching my back as his hands go to my hips. He rasps, “It doesn’t matter what I thought when I saw that photo, Rose. My love for you never vanished; it was always there….” I sniffle, and he squeezes my hips. “You were always in my heart, Petal. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be who I am now.”

When I don’t say anything, he sighs, pressing his lips to the top of my head, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight.

“I met my biological father,” he admits after a few minutes of silence, and I turn, looking up into his eyes instantly, and he smiles slightly. “He was a jackass.”

I don’t laugh or snort. Instead, I do something I haven’t done in a very long time, and I wrap my arms around his waist, laying my head on his chest. His arms automatically wrap around me as he presses his cheek against my head.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, knowing how much he wished his mom was wrong about his biological father.

He hums and whispers back, “It’s okay. He wanted money, and I got my revenge. I called the number Mom gave me, and his wife is leaving him. I’m just sad that she got hurt by it all.”

I nod, then step back, ignoring how my body immediately misses his, and look around the kitchen.

It’s a dream: cream and dark gray marble counters, a double oven, and an island with hanging lights above it. It’s beautiful.

Wiping more tears that fall, I admit, “Vanessa hit me….”

Two fingers go underneath my chin before Noah moves my head, causing us to make eye contact. Nothing but anger shines back at me, and he asks calmly, “When?”

I swallow hard. “A week after you left me, and Dad gave me the ultimatum of abortion or homelessness. Alejandro asked to meet halfway between here and Fremont at some café. I didn’t expect to see Vanessa with him. They both turned against me, and banned me from being near the family. She hit me while my brother stood back and allowed it. I was roughly four weeks pregnant, and uh, he told me I was as dead to him as Mom was.”

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