Even Millie seems to sense my distress, her eyes trained on me as she sits on the edge of the bed, her small body alert. She was shaken, too, after the altercation withNoah’s father.
The mere thought of that man makes me want to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine, and I’m not even the violent type. My blood fumes when his callous words and demeaning stare flash through my eyes.
The sting of pulling the strand of my hair a little too hard drags me out of my murderous thoughts and into the world where the man I love has locked himself in the bathroom.
Right as I’m about to throw all of my body weight into breaking that door in, the lock clicks, causing my breath to cease for a second. Noah walks out without his shirt, water dripping down his body like droplets of ominous rain.
The expression and resolve on his face has me bracing for the impending heartache I don’t know is coming until he opens his mouth, as I’m disintegrating the distance between us and hugging him on autopilot.
I shut my eyes, exhaling my first breath of relief since we ran into Henry Miller—only for it to rattle against my lungs when I don’t feel his arms wrap around me.
That ominous feeling returns tenfold.
I ignore it.
Pulling back, I press the back of my hand overhis forehead, checking his temperature. “What happened, my love? Are you okay?” There’s no missing the tremble in my voice as I scan his body for any visible injury.
That’s when I hear it.
The sound of my heart shattering into a million little pieces as he extricates himself from my grasp. Pulling his limbs as if my touch burns him, and not in a good way.
“Leave,” he utters, his voice hoarse and wrecked from all the puking.
My eyes widen, struggling to discern the meaning of his actions as he takes a couple of steps back. I huff an awkward laugh.
“This isn’t a time for games, my love.” I reach out, but he retreats, again.
And inside, something in me dies.
“I’m not playing games, Andie,” he remarks, annoyance like I’ve never heard before bleeding into his tone. “We are done.”
Three words.
Two seconds to say them.
One heart—shattered without a single sound.
The shock of his words and actions makes it hard for me to accept them. I can’t bear the thought of living a life where he isn’t by my side.
“Please don’t do this, Noah.” My throat chokes on a sob on his name, hot tears searing my skin on their way down. “I can’t…I’m not…” I gasp for air, words refusing to form after being blindsided so ruthlessly.
So cruelly.
My feet unwilling to accept the reality, move to him. “Pumpkin,” he whispers just before I reach him. He uses the safe word, the word that was supposed to be my safety net, now tightening around my throat like a noose.
I freeze.
Then physically recoil, like he struck me.
No, this is worse. Far worse and more vicious than anything I could ever have imagined him doing to me. Especially after claiming to choose me.
He can’t mean that.
Hedoesn’tmean that.
I try to convince myself.
He reads my mind like he always does. And for the first time, I hate him for it. “Remember when I said, I choose you?” He asks, and I can’t even bring myself to nod as my body shivers from the onslaught of his verbal punches. It’s not like he needs me to. “I lied.”