Page 53 of Forever and Ever

When I picked him up from rehab, I assumed he was just another rich, spoiled rock star snorting too much coke or smoking too much weed. I had no idea that what led him there was…this.

I think back to standing inside the tattoo parlor when he said the second ring on his forearm was to mark a big moment. At the time, I thought it was for his sobriety, which made sense, even if it was also a little hasty. But there was more to it, and it aches in my chest.

Reaching out for Noah’s arm, I trace the tattooed ring on his forearm with my fingertips.

“A second life.” He watches my fingers draw the line over his skin. “That’s what the bands mean. Getting my record deal, getting sober. Both times, it was like one version of me died and a new one was born. And not in a bad way, but like a shedding of skin.”

“I had no idea.” I feel like the biggest bitch in the world for how I was toward him that day.

Noah shakes his head. “You wouldn’t have. No one does, actually. Everyone in the band just thinks I OD’d, and that’s how I left it. They were worried enough about me not being able to perform, I didn’t need them thinking I’d off myself one day and they’d need another drummer.”

“You’re not just a drummer to them,” I say, but it makes him flinch—in realization, in pain? “They’re your friends. Your family.”

“I already lost one family,” Noah says with a cold look on his face. “Couldn’t risk losing another.”

My heart tightens in my chest thinking about how Noah has carried this around silently for almost a year now. He let everyone think all he was struggling with was a drug addiction when really, it was so much more.

And he trusted me enough to share this.

Me.

Merry.

Girl who shuts him out every chance she gets.

Girl who refuses to reveal her own secrets.

I open my mouth, and I think maybe this is it, I can tell him everything. If he’s going to cut open his chest, then the least I can do is the same. But the doorbell ringing cuts me short.

Noah flinches at the sounds, and it shakes me out of my head.

“It’s all right, I’ll get it,” I say, standing. But before I walk away, I pause in front of him and hold out my hand, which he takes.

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” I squeeze his hand. “Just know I’m here for you. Always.”

He nods tightly and forces the faintest smile. “Always.”

The knot in my chest hasn’t loosened as I make my way to the door. Instead, it’s settled deeper. It’s growing roots. It’s planting itself inside me and spreading. And I know for certain, I won’t be able to escape it.

Swinging open the front door, I find a woman standing on the doorstep. She’s young, maybe a few years older than me, and pretty. She has shiny blonde hair and bright blue eyes that draw out the sweetness in her heart-shaped face. A schoolgirl Barbie with her buttoned-up blouse and pleated skirt. She looks a little like she might be selling bibles or something.

“Can I help you?”

She skims me from head to toe.

Maybe it’s that I’m in all black. Maybe it’s the excessive tattoos and piercings. But when her gaze lifts once more to meet mine, her doe eyes look a little terrified all of a sudden.

“I—” she starts but stops when her eyes fall on movement behind me. “Noah.”

“Noah?” I’m not sure why I’m saying his name like a question. It’s his house, why else did I think she was at the door.

But when I look over my shoulder and see Noah standing behind me, the look on his face catches me off guard. The pale expression, the wide eyes. The slack jaw as he takes in a sharp breath.

He’s in shock, but that’s not what’s drawing my attention. It’s a sparkle in his eyes. Something familiar as he stares at the prissy blonde chick. And I realize I’ve only ever seen him look at one other woman that way.

Me.

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