Page 33 of Forever and Ever

I spent months perfecting how to respond to Noah. Acting like he has no effect on me is second nature now. But something about being under his roof is making every feeling I’ve ever buried about him seem closer to the surface. And I can’t let that happen.

Offering him anything would be leading him on, and that’s not fair.

Noah might pretend to be a playboy rock star, but at the core of him, he’s not. He’s caring and cautious. Like how he holds doors open and only gets the rare tattoo when it’s really going to mean something. He has the kind of energy that makes people comfortable when he walks into a room. Noah is a beam of sunshine, so bright sometimes that it’s downright irritating.

He’s got a heart so big it blinds me when he smiles. While I’m the darkness, inside and out.

Then there’s the fact that he comes from the kind of family he wants to create someday. Churches, barbeques, bake sales. He wants a wife who can give him lots of kids and fill his house with laughter. And whether I wanted that at one point in my life or not, I gave up on that kind of thinking years ago.

I’ve been reminded by one boyfriend after another that I’m not a girl capable of those kinds of relationships. That the broken parts are a little too shattered to think they can be put back together. That what’s under the surface isn’t worth it.

I might look pretty from far away, but I know the result of letting people into my dark places.

What Noah wants; I can’t give to him.

End of story.

Pulling my phone off the nightstand, I read his text again.

Noah:Band practice, see u later

I’m not sure how I feel about him checking in with me, because it’s not something anyone has ever done before. I don’t do relationships where the other person cares to tell me where they are.

But there Noah’s text sits on the screen, offering me some kind of odd comfort.

I shouldn’t dig too far into it. It’s probably just a cordial roommate thing, letting me know when he’s coming or going. But at the same time, nothing with Noah feels like it’s a cordial roommate thing. And although this text from any other person might irritate me because I don’t need anyone keeping tabs, for some reason, it doesn’t.

His words make me feel like a fifteen-year-old girl sitting here waiting for her boyfriend to get back from banging on the drums with his friends.

It makes me feel like I want to know where he is and when he’ll be back.

It makes this house feel empty without him.

Bad thoughts that I can’t let crawl in.

I roll over in bed and grip my stomach as a sharp pain runs through me. I was hoping the cramping would have subsided by this morning. But even if it’s better than last night, the dull ache is still there.

Pulsing.

A reminder of all the ways I’ll never be the woman a man like Noah wants.

Fuck.

I clutch harder and hope it fades.

This is not the time. Cassie and Quinn will be over for our girls’ day soon, which is going to take all my energy. Plus, I still need to work on one of my songs to prepare for my early morning recording session at Adrian’s tomorrow.

Climbing out of bed, I head into the bathroom and unscrew the lid on my ibuprofen. First, downing it, followed by my daily meds. I climb in the shower and sit on the floor as the warm water runs over my naked body and I wait for the ache to subside.

It will.

It has to.

If the pills don’t work then I’m back to surgery, and that can’t happen when I’m finally getting the chance to record this demo.

I close my eyes and tip my head back, still seeing Noah’s face on the other side of my eyelids. I’m not sure when that started happening, but the man is in my head. His face from last night is clear as day, with the kind of hurt in his eyes that’s impossible to forget because I’ve seen it more times than I can count.

It’s not that I want to hurt Noah, I don’t. If it were up to me, he would have stopped chasing me months ago and saved himself a shit load of heartache. But like moths to a flame, we keep circling back to each other, whether it’s what’s good for us or not.

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