by Jess Epps
My eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Noah? What happened?" I push past Coen and over to Noah. I've never seen him like this before. There's something different. It's not him—not my Noah. I reach down and grab his hand and turn it palm up. Why is he just standing here bleeding?
I look from Noah then over to Coen. "What's going on?"
“Careful. Anger, alcohol, and Noah don’t mesh well together. He doesn’t let people handle him when he’s drunk.”
“Fuck you!” Noah yells out to Coen, then looks down at his big hand in both of mine. “Don’t tell her what to do. I fucking missed you, little ballerina.”
"Why is he mad?" I look up at Noah. "Why are you mad? And why are neither of you concerned about your hand?"
“I’ll show you…” Noah says before almost falling on his butt.
“Baby…be careful!” I wrap my arm around his torso and let him drunkenly lead the way. “You’ll let me clean your hand up after you show me, right?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt.”
He's beyond drunk. He's not even walking in a straight line. We get to the living room and he plops down onto the couch as he grabs his beer. He's completely forgotten that he was about to show me something. I stand there looking at him. Coen follows and sits down on the couch next to him with a beer in his hand. I really freaking wish someone would start talking. "Uhm...hello?"
He looks up at me, and smiles like a drunken fool, my drunken Greek god. “See that binder over there?” he says, pointing to the wall. “Bring that over here. I’ll show you.”
I walk over and pick up the binder that’s on the floor and walk back, starting to wonder if I even want to know. I sit down between Noah and Coen, and set the binder on my lap.
Noah reaches over and opens it. The first page is blank but then he turns it and there’s a name and year on it. “Flip through it, until you get to me—1985,” he slurs then leans his head back on the couch.
“What the hell is this? A scrapbook?” Coen asks.
I silently flip through the pages. With each turn, my stomach plummets. Oh my God. Did she do this to all these babies? My heart is in my throat and I'm afraid of what I’ll find. I don't want to see anymore. Finally, I get to the page with Noah's name and birth year. I look over at Coen and shake my head. I have to get up before I burst into tears. I feel so much pain for this grown man sitting next to me. He has to be massively hurting inside.
I slide the binder off my lap and put it on Coen's. Getting up quickly, I make my way to the kitchen and grab a beer for myself. I think Noah has passed out and for a moment I’m relieved. I don’t want him to see me like this. He doesn't need me to be upset right now. Opening my beer, I lean against the marble island with my back to the guys.
Coen walks into the kitchen with the binder. It’s still on Noah’s page when he sits it down next to me on the counter top.
“Do you think he’s gone farther than we have?”
I shrug because I’ve got no words. I hear Noah groan on the couch as I take another sip.
“He’s really torn up about this shit.” Coen leans against the counter beside me. “I can’t imagine going through what he’s going through right now. I’m glad he has you though, and I’m glad he’s out of Arizona. The media and news crews are still parked outside his old apartment and her house.”
I wipe a tear away with the back of my hand.
"I can't believe that even happened. Is that why he's drunk? I’ve never seen him like this. I don't know what to do to help him." I push off from the counter and busy myself with wetting a washcloth to clean his hand with.
“I’m assuming the binder is what caused him to drink. He must have just found it. I don’t recall him talking about it before. I’ve seen him like this more times than I can count when someone pissed him off at the bar when he was completely wasted in college.”
I hear the couch move and look up. Noah is getting up and he looks so unbelievably mad. “Are you trying to get with my girl?”
Coen takes a few steps back and shakes his head frantically. “Dude, you know I wouldn’t do that. Calm down for me, buddy.”
I’m in shock. The look on his face is murderous. I take a step forward, making sure my voice is soft. "Baby? Come here."
He stumbles forward as I move toward him. I don’t care what Coen said about touching him. I want to comfort him, so I do. I press my body to his and hug him. His arms move weakly around me. His voice is soft and full of emotion when he says, “I need you.”
My heart breaks wide open for him and I look up into his sad, half-closed eyes and nod. "I'm here, baby." Moving my body, I lead him over to the sink. "Coen, will you grab that stool so he can sit while I get his hand cleaned up, please?"
Coen moves quickly and brings the stool over. I help my Greek god sit down and cup his face. He looks so lost in this moment. I brush my lips against his softly. “I’m not going anywhere.” I think he understands me because he nods.
“Coen, would you mind running across the street to get him something to eat?”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be right back.”
I run the water, making sure it’s not too hot or too cold before I move his hand under it. It’s then I realize there are small shards of glass embedded in his hand.
Talking softly to both him and myself while I run his hand under the water, I murmur, "Baby, what did you do to yourself?"
Hearing the front door close, I know that we're alone. I get the pieces out of his hand without great difficulty, glancing up at him every now and then to make sure he isn't in any pain. And to be quite honest, I don’t know if he feels anything at the moment. After getting the last piece out, I clean his hand with a mild soap and dry it lightly. Applying a few bandages before moving between his legs, I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him to me. "Once you eat, we can go to bed, okay?"
He’s been watching me clean his hand the entire time and now he’s peering into my soul with those drunken ocean green eyes. “Yeah. Are you going to stay?” His hand somehow finds my ass. I try not to giggle because even in this drunken, pissed-off, self-loathing state he’s in, he still wants me.
I smile softly and lean in, biting down on his shoulder, letting him know in my own special way that I want him too. "I would never leave you alone like this."
He growls. “Will you be naked in my bed tonight?”
How the crap is he thinking about me being naked now? “Noah…”
“Mmm, what?” He nuzzles my neck, and he doesn’t smell like himself. He smells like beer and rubbing alcohol.
"You should probably just sleep tonight. You're not going to feel well tomorrow, I’m afraid."
“But you’ll still be naked, right?” His hand squeezes my ass and I squeal, not expecting it.
“Only if you behave, baby. And one more thing: Coen isn’t hitting on me. He’s being a good friend.”
He growls into my neck and I know he's still too drunk to think rationally. Hearing the front door open and close, I push against Noah's rock-hard chest, forcing him to sit up. "Time to eat, handsome."
“You?” he queries with a smirk on his face as Coen walks in and puts the bag of food down on the counter.
“I got, like, six burgers and fries. I didn’t know how much he would eat and if you were hungry? Unless you’re a vegetarian?”
What the frick? Why does everyone assume I’m a vegetarian? Pointing at Noah, I answer his question, "No. Food," and then turn to Coen. "No, I’m not a vegetarian. And thank you for running to get that." I turn and grab a few bottled waters for us while the guys start to eat.
I hand Noah a bottle of water as he’s chewing lazily. He’s taken one bite of the burger. His eyes are closed and he’s propped himself up on his elbow on the countertop, so I try and coax him to eat some more. I kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “If you eat that burger and fries, I’ll sleep in the nude tonight.”
I know that what I’ve said registers with him because he groans and opens hi
s eyes, taking a few more bites of his burger. I laugh softly at his eager attempt and run my fingers through his hair. "Don't choke on it, baby." I look down and smile when I see him eating crinkle fries. He's so stinking wasted that he doesn't even realize what he's eating. I'll be sure and remind him of it tomorrow.
He finishes his fries and pushes them aside, making a face. Once he takes the last bite of his burger, he looks up at me. “Bed?”
I smile. He's got the sweetest, most hopeful expression on his face. "Yes, bed. Go on and I’ll be right in." Watching him get up and walk slowly down the hall without another word, I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing the storm has passed. For now.
“I’ve never seen him so composed when he’s agitated and drunk,” Coen says from the other side of the island. “I’m glad he’s got you, Heather. Do you mind if I crash on the couch?”
"Of course not. Let me grab you some blankets and pillows." I go down to the hall closet in search of them.
Just as I find them, Coen reaches up from behind me to grab the bedding. “I got this. Go to him.”
“Oh. Thank you, Coen, for watching over him back in college and now. You’re two for two.”
He winks at me. "Anytime. Night, Heather." He turns and walks back to the living room and I head into the bedroom.
After shutting the door, I turn to see Noah's large, muscular body sprawled on top of his bed, his shirt halfway off. "Oh baby…"
I walk over. He's completely out, which I expected. What I didn't expect was his massive erection. Son of a...even in his sleep? Reaching over his body, I pull his other arm out of his tee-shirt and get him undressed. I’m practically out of breath when I finally get his jeans off. I’m not even going to attempt to remove his boxer briefs. Pulling my sweatshirt over my head and taking my bra off, I stand there topless while I put my hair into a messy bun. I pad around to turn out his bedside lamp before I take off my tights and panties. Crawling onto the bed, I curl up into his side.
He exhales loudly and wraps me in his arms, holding me tightly against him. He’s asleep, but he manages to mumble, “My girl.”
Noah
JOEL IS ON HIS way back to New York City after a trip to New Jersey for some FBI business. This binder is exactly what Joel needs to help prove Mae’s guilt. I can't stand that I'm handing her over to the feds, but she stole my life. There will always be a place in my heart for Mae—the woman brought me up—but the hatred and anger quickly overpower that feeling.
Heather has been mostly quiet throughout today. She hasn't even mentioned what happened last night. Hell...I’m not even too sure what happened.
The one thing that's still bugging the shit out of me is what's on the page after my name. I tell myself that I have every right to know who my parents are, and now I've found them. I flip through the heavy card stock paper of the binder to my name. I inhale as I turn the page and prepare to literally meet my makers.
It's blank.
I fucking loathe that woman for what she's done to me. She's kept everything from me. I look up from the blank page and find Heather on the floor in the living room with a dustpan, sweeping up glass. I look down at my hand and clench it into a fist, welcoming the pain.
Suddenly, Coen is at my side and claps me on the back. "Hey man, feel like shit today?" He chuckles and pulls out the chair beside me and sits down at the table. I rub my hand down my face.
"That's an understatement." Exhaling loudly, I look over at him and lower my voice. "Did I...I didn't make her cry last night, did I?" He looks over at Heather who is currently trying to clean the blood off the couch cushion.
"Who, her?" He nods in her direction. "Nah, man. That one is tough as nails. Keep a hold of her."
I feign a smile. "Thank God. I don't plan on losing her." I get up and grab some ibuprofen from the cabinet. "Little ballerina? Did you want to get breakfast?"
She looks up from the floor. "Huh? Oh. Of course. You feel up to it?"
I frown for a split second because she seems distracted and lost in thought. "I do. I'd like to treat my girlfriend and my best friend. You two go get dressed. I'll clean up this mess," I say as I walk over to Heather and kiss her lips.
"I'm almost finished. Just give me a minute." She turns away before I can argue. There's something wrong and I'm going to find out what it is.
"Coen, we'll be right back," I say before scooping Heather up into my arms and carrying her to my bedroom, and to the shower. I turn on the water and step in with her in my arms, both of us fully dressed.
She shrieks loudly and tries to squirm out of my grip. “What are you doing?”
"Oh no you don't, ballerina." My arms tighten around her and I hold her under the cool spray, pressing my lips hard to hers…kissing the breath out of her. She stops squirming as her hands move into my hair.
I feel her body relax against mine even with the cold water beating down on us. "Talk to me, ballerina," I say sensitively as I kiss her neck.
Her soft moans fill the shower. “About what?”
I nip at the slender column of her neck. "What's bothering you, baby?"
“I just…I don’t understand how you’re so put together with everything that you’re going through right now. Well, except for last night.”
I run my tongue up her neck to the shell of her ear as she speaks. Her body shudders. "Are you mad at me?" I ask and instantly regret it. I don't want to know.
“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?” she says, as she circles her arms around my neck.
I'm relieved. Fuck, I'm relieved. I set her down on her feet then press her against the shower wall. "Because of last night."
“Because you were drunk?” Her clothes are plastered onto her figure.
“My behavior last night was probably less than acceptable. I’m sorry if I said or did anything to upset you or piss you off. I, uh, I have always been an angry drunk when people piss me off. If I was like that to you, I won’t ever forgive myself. You deserve more.”
She's looking at me with those gorgeous green eyes. "You weren't like that to me, Noah. I was so worried about you though. I've never seen that side of you."
“I’ll be okay, baby. I’ve got you, and that’s a fuck ton more than what I’ve ever had before. You’re my girl, right?”
Her smile lights me up from the inside. “I haven’t stopped being your girl since the first time you asked.”
My chest is about to explode. She's so damn perfect, so understanding. I want to keep her forever. I lean down and kiss her temple.
“You are one hell of a girlfriend, baby.”
She blushes as I pull my wet shirt off of her body, sliding my hands up her wet, silky skin.
She shivers from my touch and pulls my shirt off of me. I'm taken by surprise when she grabs the back of my neck and forcefully pulls me down. She's in a frenzy. Her hands are everywhere. Holy shit. What's gotten into her? Slipping my tongue into her mouth, I taste raspberries.
“Noah…I need you.”
Holy shit. She’s gotten my pants undone and they lay in a damp mess at my ankles with my boxer briefs.
“Baby, I haven’t been inside of you for more than twenty-four hours; it’s going to take me hours to get you warmed up again,” I say, as her hands move over my skin, and then cup my balls. I’m hard as marble.
"No. I can't wait. Please don't make me."
She's begging me for it and fuck if it isn't the hottest damn thing she’s done. “Baby, we have Coen waiting on us. Can you wait until after breakfast? We’ll just go to the place across the street and then you’re all mine. Joel is going to come and pick up the binder from the restaurant too. After that I plan on making you come like a freight train until your gorgeous body can’t handle another second of it.”
She's whimpering in frustration and lets go of my balls. Thankfully, because I was about to take her regardless of what I said. I shut the water off and kiss her forehead. "Just wait, ballerina."
She growls cutely and then pouts. My ballerina i
s damn sexy.
“Noah…” she says, drawing my name out. “You swear you’ll be inside of me all night?”
I laugh and wrap her in a white towel, “You have my word, baby.”
She gets out of the shower without another word. We're learning as we go, this thing between us. But I'm in too deep to back out now. Hell, I don't want to. I watch her as she dresses. She doesn't know it—she's never noticed. But it's something I do. When she doesn't think anyone is looking...I can see her. One day she'll relax and be herself around me.
She's running my comb through her hair while I finish drying off and move over to the toilet to relieve myself. All the damn alcohol I drank last night is still not out of my system. She comes walking back in with her head down, probably eyeing her toenail polish when she finally looks up.
"Noah, I..." She gasps then makes the funniest squeaking sound and covers her eyes. "Oh my God!" She turns around and stomps her foot. "Are you peeing?"
I look down at myself then back up at her. "Uh, I believe that's what this is called."
She shrieks and runs out of the room quickly. I can hear her mumbling something as she runs out and it cracks me the hell up.
"Girls pee too!" I yell out after her.
"Yes, but not in front of their boyfriends!" I hear her reply before I finish up and wash my hands then wrap my towel around my waist. Walking out to the living room I hear Heather yell at Coen.
"I can’t believe you guys! You're so super gross!" She's standing there in her towel as I walk up. Coen has his hands up in defense.
"Whoa, little lady. What in hell did I do? Why am I gross?" He's looking from her to me and all I can do is laugh.
"Get your naked little ass back into my bedroom. Coen might be my friend, but he's still a hornball."
She narrows her eyes at me before tightening her towel and stomping past us. She's cute as hell when she's pissed. I like it. I've never seen that side of her. But shit, something tells me she can be a little tornado when she's really mad. I look over at Coen when she disappears around the corner and he's got his head cocked to the side, staring at where her ass just was. I scowl and shove him, only partially joking. "Watch yourself, dick. She's mine."