But she couldn’t control her eyeballs. Just like she couldn’t control anything about what was happening right now.
“You’d stay for the right person. And I’m not it. You came to New York for Kristina, but without her—” She stopped. She couldn’t go on any further.
“Amanda,” he started, but she shook her head.
“I think you should go.”
“Please, just let me in. We don’t have to do this here.”
But her apartment landing was the perfect place for a breakup. Her home, her bedroom, her life would stay hers. And he’d always stay on the outside. Where it seemed like he wanted to be.
“You keep telling me this is your decision, so fine. You get to own it,” she said. “You can go to L.A. with Luke and start your new job and meet whomever and have a great time.” She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “But I get to make my decision, too. And it’s this. I can’t just invite you in and be your fuck buddy for a few more days until you’re over it and happy to move on. Maybe that’s what we were doing in the beginning. But you have to know it’s not like that for me anymore.”
“It’s not like that for me, either,” he said. “That’s why I’m here right now trying to see you. Trying to talk to you. Why won’t you let me come in?”
She shook her head sadly. “I think we’ve said everything there is to say. We’re going to be over soon, anyway. We might as well just be over now.”
He tried to protest more. He tried to say he still wanted to see her. But finally, she had to tell him firmly that he needed to leave.
“You knew I was moving when we started this,” he said, his voice desperate and pleading. “Nothing about that is any different.”
“But don’t you get it?” She looked at him incredulously, her eyes suddenly, mercifully clear. How could he not see what she was talking about? How could he not grasp what he was doing? “Things have changed. That’s what life does. It changes. Who we were when we started this isn’t the same as who we are now. I’m not the same. You’ve changed me, Noah. Or maybe I’ve changed by being with you. But I can’t keep going on with the same terms I agreed to at the beginning. Everything about this has changed—which is why I can’t keep doing it anymore.”
Some part of her hoped he’d object. If he kept protesting, if he made her believe there was still a chance, maybe she’d be able to change her mind. Maybe she’d see a way through.
But all he did was sigh. “Are you sure about this?”
It seemed a ridiculous question. No one had a crystal ball, not even Noah. How could anyone know whether they were making the right decision or blowing it all away?
All she could do was look at the information she had. And that told her that Noah just wanted to fuck a few more times and then be done. Everything she knew about herself told her she couldn’t live with that.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it. “I wish this could have gone another way.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Looked like he didn’t have anything to say.
She stood there, barefoot in her pajamas, as he turned and walked down the stairs. She wanted to call out to him. One last hug, one last kiss. One last chance to say, “I’m going to miss you.”
But she didn’t. When she couldn’t stand the echo of his footsteps any longer, she closed the door—and her heart—on him for good.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Noah lay in bed, listening to the infernal racket of his phone alarm blare inconsolably. He didn’t move to turn it off until Luke banged on the wall.
“Are you dead?” Luke yelled. “You’re waking me up, too!”
Finally, Noah turned it off. But he still didn’t roll over.
Not until Luke practically banged down the door yelling, “What the fuck? Don’t you have a group to lead this morning?” did he actually make himself get up and throw some fucking pants on.
He had no idea if he’d actually slept or if he’d just stared at the ceiling all night. Coffee turned sour in his stomach, and his legs felt like lead. Fuck.
Not even running could get him out of his thoughts. He led the warm up, but his legs were heavy, his mind mush. He completely skipped the stretching. He began with a tempo run that was way too fast, until someone reminded him today was supposed to be a short shakeout jog to get them loose and ready for the race.
“Coach, you doing okay?” One of the guys put a hand on Noah’s back.
“Sorry about the mix-up,” Noah said for the umpteenth time that morning.
The group was starting to give him looks. They’d woken up early and paid good money to be trained by someone who was capable of paying attention. Someone they trusted to get them over the finish line come Sunday.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said again and vowed to try harder.
“Not enough sleep last night?” a woman asked.
“That must be it,” he said and tried to keep everyone moving so they’d stop asking questions.
He wasn’t in the business of making his clients do anything he wouldn’t do himself, so he forced himself to jog around the reservoir with them. But he could barely make his legs work. It felt like he was shaking, breaking, his whole self falling apart. Every step along the path made him think about when he’d run with Amanda. He kept expecting to turn to her and urge her on…before realizing all over again that she was gone.
“Hey, where’s that woman who came the other week?” someone asked as they jogged. “She seemed great. She should come back some time.”
One of the women teased, “You should ask her out, Noah. She seemed really into you.” Then she remembered. “If only you weren’t leaving!” And then everyone was piling on him—why was he moving? Why didn’t he want to keep coaching? Who were they going to find who was as much of a morning person as he was? And on and on until he thought he was going to puke.
“Let’s just run the loop, guys,” he said, his jaw so tight it was going to snap.
“Ask her out anyway,” the same woman stage-whispered. “Have a fling before you go.”
He could still hear their laughter ringing, even after they’d moved on to ragging on somebody else.
Goddammit.
He couldn’t tell them that he had asked her out and he did want her and it had been good. And then she’d kicked him out of her apartment, and it felt like nothing was ever going to be the same.
For all he’d planned, all he’d tried, there was no escaping the truth. He’d fucked up. There were eight and a half million other people in this city. Add to that four million new fish in the Los Angeles sea and there was no reason he had to go after his brother’s closest friend, especially when she’d had her eyes set on Luke for years. Especially when he himself was in no position to date so soon. Let alone get feelings involved.
But he’d done it. All of it. And now it was a mess—just like he’d tried to avoid.
He knew he did too much of what Luke wanted. But that didn’t mean Amanda had any right to put it like that. To put him on the spot—like anyone would completely change their job and their cross-country move and their relationship with their twin just because a few weeks of dating had gone well. Especially not right after eight years of dating had ended so badly.
It didn’t mean she had any right to make him sound like some loser tagalong who couldn’t stand up for himself and had no clue what he wanted.
He knew he’d told her once that the move wasn’t set in stone. That there were reasons he wanted to stay. That one of those reasons could have been her.
But that didn’t mean he was ready to make some huge declaration right in the middle of Central Park, with no discussion and no advance warning and no time to stop and think and plan. It didn’t mean he was ready to do it all now.
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He knew a race was won one step at a time, and the people who
burned out were the ones who went out too hard, too fast. The people who thought it was all physical and didn’t know how to master the mental component. How to think through the steps. How to pace themselves and watch the timing. When to hold back and when to surge ahead.
Noah was smart. He knew how to read the conditions, how to plan for his future. He knew how to do what was right.
As the runners started in on their second lap around the reservoir, he tried to steady his resolve. He’d do better on this next round. He’d actually coach them, guide them, keep his knees up and his head where it needed to be. His body was stronger than his mind. He could always push himself harder than he believed.
Things sucked for now, but once he got to L.A., they’d be fine again. He’d be fine again. He’d have the new job to throw himself into. And things would smooth over with Luke.
Girlfriends came and went. He’d learned that the hard way. Love wasn’t always made to last.
But family was forever. Brothers were forever.
Those were the loyalties that mattered. He may have lost his way a little. But this time, he wasn’t going to forget.
…
“I just don’t know what to do.” Amanda sat at besties brunch and tried not to let the tears fall. It seemed like she should be completely dried up by now. But somehow, she still cried at all the worst times.
Like at work, having to book it to the bathroom as soon as Luke walked through the door. At home late at night, tossing and turning, wishing she could fall asleep already and not feel anything at all.
And now with her friends when she just wanted to forget all of this and have a nice time.
“No offense, kitten, but I feel like we’ve been here before,” Talia said as she plunked down next to Amanda on her couch. “I know talking to Noah sucks, but you’ve got to do it.”
Amanda shook her head. She didn’t want to say, “You don’t understand.” But Talia clearly didn’t understand.
“I know what you’re saying, but it’s not like before. This isn’t some text message I’m freaking out about. Believe it or not, things had actually been good.”
So good that if her friends had gathered for brunch just a week ago, she’d have been over the moon talking about how happy she was with Noah, still confident they’d work something out. How could one short week—how could one lousy day—change so much?
“And we did talk about it,” she went on after a raggedy breath. “Actually, that’s kind of the problem. We finally addressed the giant elephant in the room—you know, the fact that he’s moving—and now here we are.”
“So he’s still going to L.A.?” Jessie asked.
Amanda nodded. “It’s not even a question.”
“And you?”
“And me, what?” Noah was moving. How was there anything left to say?
“What did you say when he said he was definitely still going?” Rose asked.
“I mean, I broke up with him, obviously.” Amanda gave a small shrug. “I’m not really sure what else anyone would do in that situation. If he’d brought up long distance, I’d definitely think about it, but it doesn’t seem like he wants that. I’m pretty much his hookup before he moves, and maybe I should be fine with that and have fun with it, but I—”
The tears started again.
“But I can’t,” she finished softly as Rose got her tissues and passed her a champagne flute—what was besties brunch without mimosas? But Amanda didn’t feel very bubbly, and she set the glass down untouched. “It’s over.”
Jessie shook her head. “I just don’t get it. I know he’s moving. But the internet exists. Texting. Video. Chats. Are you sure distance is the only issue?”
“What Jessie’s too nice to say,” Talia butted in when Amanda didn’t answer, “is are you sure you weren’t looking for an excuse to push him away?”
Amanda sniffled, but she shook her head. “Yeah, I know I’ve done that before. I know I did that with Luke. But I’m telling you, I wanted this. I really, really wanted this.”
Admitting it made her feel even worse. Where were the distractions and the reminders that she’d find someone else—someone who wasn’t a Miller, or a friend, or a not-friend, or connected to her at all?
But everyone was looking at her with such concerned faces, and they weren’t telling her “better luck next time” or other dumb platitudes everyone knew weren’t true. Instead, it was like they were chiding her for letting him get away. Like they didn’t think she should have ended it so soon.
“It just seems like you already decided it wasn’t going to work,” Jessie said. “And so you broke up with him because it wasn’t going to work.”
“But it wasn’t going to work,” Amanda reminded her. “So, your logic is actually pretty sound.”
“But even if Noah moves to L.A.—” Talia started, and Amanda had to interrupt her to remind her it wasn’t an “if.”
“When he moves,” Talia corrected. “You’re right—he’s going no matter what. But you can’t control that. You can’t control what he does—whether he stays, whether he goes, whether he ever stops throwing his goddamn stinky socks on the floor.”
Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise with Reed?”
“It’s a good thing I love that man…” Talia shuddered. “But you know I’m right,” she went on, and as she spoke, Jessie nodded. So did Rose. It made Amanda’s stomach do some weird gymnastic thing to see her friends, who were all in relationships, agree on this one thing.
You can’t control what he does.
Obviously, Amanda knew that was true. She wasn’t trying to be controlling. She certainly didn’t want to be.
“I know that,” she said. “That’s why I have to let him go.”
It made perfect sense to her. But Talia said she wasn’t finished and shook her head. “You can’t control what he does. But you can control what you do. Everything you bring to the table. Everything you want and need. If I’ve learned anything from this whole rollercoaster of being engaged to a special agent who keeps insane hours, it’s that I get to have a say.”
“And I get to have a say in not having my heart crushed to smithereens on moving day,” Amanda said, sounding as grumpy as she felt. This wasn’t a good pick-me-up talk at all. Instead, it was making her feel guilty. Guilty for being unhappy, guilty for dating Noah, guilty for dumping him, and guilty for feeling like shit. Like she shouldn’t have gone and fallen for him if she knew he was just out of a huge relationship and moving so soon. Like she shouldn’t have gotten into bed with him in the first place, if her heart was going to be so dumb and forget everything it needed to keep itself intact.
“It just seems like you gave up so easily,” Rose said. “I should know—I almost did the same thing with Owen. I thought he was done, so I was done, and it had to be over. But I don’t know, Amanda. Are you sure you want this to be over?”
“Of course I don’t—but I don’t have a choice. I’m not the one moving, I’m not the one who can’t take a shit without getting my brother’s blessing, and I’m not the one looking for a no-strings-attached hookup until I peace out. Noah’s being a dick about this whole thing. And frankly—” She took a breath. “I guess I don’t blame him. He told me at one point he’d think about staying. But then he made it pretty clear that he’d meant that was a possibility with someone. But not with me.”
“Ouch.” Jessie made a face. “I’m so sorry. Do you think he meant that?”
“It’s a pretty harsh thing to say ‘just kidding’ about.”
“I know, but maybe he was protecting himself. Like you got caught in this massive game of chicken where neither of you could blink first. If you didn’t tell him you love him and want him to stay, then why would he say he loves you and wants to stay? Because what if you said no, or felt obligated to say it back, or said okay but then changed your mind—and he’d upro
oted his life and Luke’s life for something you didn’t really mean?”
“But we did talk about it. He did think about it, and then it was this huge one-eighty back to Luke. I can’t compete with that.”
“Of course not,” Jessie said. “And you shouldn’t.” She glanced at Talia, and Talia smiled.
“Look,” Talia said. “I know all about how shitty it feels to be the sibling who sees someone else cutting in on what feels like your special relationship.” She paused. “And to feel like you’re losing a friend to that relationship, too.”
“But you have to live your life,” Jessie said, and Amanda was reassured to see Talia nod, too. Since Jessie had fallen in love with Talia’s older brother, it seemed like they did actually know what they were talking about—and how to get through it.
“Anyway,” Jessie added. “Are you sure this is really about Luke? Or is that just a convenient excuse? I know when Shawn and I were worried about telling Talia we were dating, it was easy to make it this Big Huge Insurmountable Thing. But you know what? I actually feel like that was just a cover for the other, more personal things we had to deal with in order to be in a place where we could be together. Once we didn’t have that Big Scary Excuse to blame anymore…we had to actually look at ourselves.”
“Sometimes I think falling in love is harder and scarier and maybe even more painful than running from it,” Rose said. “You have to be so vulnerable. It’s easier to slam that door and run away screaming.”
Jessie and Talia laughed. But Amanda didn’t. It felt too real, too true, to be funny. Running away screaming was exactly what she wanted to do.
Well, as long as it didn’t involve literal running. That was Noah’s department—not hers.
But there was still something true in there, something that resonated, and it made her feel all twisted up inside.
Was it true that Luke was just an excuse they were using? Was L.A. just another excuse, too?
If she stripped away all the bullshit, all the external factors she could blame—what did she want, if she could have anything?
Wrong Bed, Right Brother (Accidental Love) Page 16