Sitting here today, I see what I didn’t then. The beauty in the subtle touch, the longing in the stolen glance. Those things came back to me in wild waves, as did their timing.
After the note with Noah’s number on.
After the hoodie with his number.
After I took back what I’d given away and offered it to another.
And this time, the man I begged to accept it didn’t only love me back.
He loved me first.
Once Chase realized this, fear shook him, drew him out of the corner he placed himself into, but by then, it was too late.
I was already gone.
But when I think about our time, there’s no sadness anymore. I don’t feel shorted or cheated. I realize now that it had to happen as it did. Chase had to be the one or things would have ended a lot differently.
I think he knows it too, which is why his green eyes fall to his clasped hands when he asks, “So uh, if I would have never pushed you away? If I would have fought for you from the beginning?”
It takes him a moment, but he looks to me again.
“Then I would have been the one who hurt you.” My tone is gentle, but honest.
Chase nods. He knows what I’m saying. Quilt washes over him, and he sighs. “I’m really sorry, Ari. Truly. I wish like hell I didn’t hurt you and that things were different for us, but I understand. I’ve understood, to be honest. I could see the way you loved him, and when you suddenly didn’t remember him, I thought maybe that meant you were supposed to be mine all along. I shouldn’t have stepped in. I should have waited to see what you decided and been there for you when you needed me to be… if you needed me to be. I was afraid, and I have no other excuse, but I am ashamed, and I do care about you. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” I nod, and when I stand, he stands with me, pulling me in for a hug.
“I have to go,” I whisper.
“I know you do.” He releases me, the smile on his lips sad, but encouraging. “I’m happy for you, Arianna. You deserve a man like Noah.”
With a small smile, I turn and walk out.
What I said to Chase was true.
Had he not been the one to hurt me from the start, I would have hurt him in a much different way, because I still would have found Noah. There is no doubt in my mind.
Just as there’s none in my mind as to where to find him now.
The sun is minutes away from setting as I’m pulling off the road, so I say a silent plea he’s still here, and I’m not disappointed. The moment I turn the corner, his truck comes into view, so I throw the Tahoe into park, grab my things off the seat and rush up the small hillside.
As I reach its peak, my entire body warms, he’s sitting exactly where I expected, the glow of the sun creating the perfect Noah-sized silhouette.
My steps are near silent, yet he still knows I’m coming, and he whips around so fast I jump.
His eyes widen, and then narrow, and then he’s hastily shoving something into his pocket, but not before I catch a glimpse of what it is.
My heart seizes and I lower to my knees beside him, my body facing his as he sits facing forward.
I set my backpack aside and offer a small smile, fighting off the prickling feeling threatening of tears.
“Can I see that?”
Moisture clouds Noah’s eyes, and without taking his off me, he digs into his pocket and pulls out what he tried to hide. A football, but not just any football.
A tiny white, fluffy one, no bigger than the palm of his hand.
Taking it between my fingers, I spin it around, and my throat grows thick.
Stitched along the front, where the seam of the football should be, is a soft yellow threading that reads Little Riley.
“This… this is for—” I swallow, meeting his gaze.
Noah’s jaw is locked tight, but he manages a nod.
“We didn’t even get to love him. Her.” My voice cracks, the tears dropping. “Not even for one day.”
Noah grows rigid, his gaze sweeping over my face with urgency.
Holding the tiny football close, I reach for the backpack at my side, blindly digging inside.
It’s with shaky hands, I place the small bag between us. I try but fail to keep the cracking out of my voice as I meet his stare once more. “Happy Birthday, Noah.”
His nostrils flare, his nose turning red. “Juliet—”
“Open it,” I murmur.
His body shakes as he pulls the tissue paper free, and as he sees what’s inside, nothing but a single twenty-dollar football, the same gift his mom would give him every year for his birthday, but isn’t here to do so today, the moisture in his eyes doubles.
Noah’s chin falls to his chest, and he buries his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and my own grow choppier.
I jolt forward, and the second my hand touches his, he looks up into my eyes, and he sees it.
He sees me.
His palms lift, cupping my cheeks gently, and I lean into his touch, reaching up to hold him there as he stares longingly. “Baby…” he mutters desperately. “Did you come back to me?”
“My god, Noah.” I choke on my own tears, pressing my forehead to his. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when she died and I’m sorry you’ve been alone and I’m just… I’m so sorry,” I cry, gripping his hands with my own. “I abandoned you.”
“Shh, baby, no.” He swallows hard, shaking his head. “Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry. You just had to find your way back.” His eyes close. “I thought I lost you. Are you mine?” he worries, his voice lower than a trembling whisper. “Please… say you’re mine.”
I nod rapidly, my hands gliding along his face. “Always. Forever.”
A harsh breath pushes past his lips, and he shakes. “Say it.”
My eyes pop open, locking with his as I grip and hold him still, whispering, “I swear.”
Noah doesn’t hesitate, his mouth crushes mine.
His kiss is hard and deep, it’s devastating and awakening. It’s claiming.
His kiss is a promise from his soul to mine, that no matter what happens, this is home.
He is home.
* * *
THE END.
Epilogue
Arianna
* * *
Valentine’s Day
* * *
In the weeks that have passed, Noah and I have grown so much, both as a couple and as individuals. Together, we decided to take a semester off from school, so we could process and come to terms with all that happened to us. My parents were more than understanding, and while I didn’t want that for Noah, for his final semester as well as graduation to be delayed, he was the one who suggested it.
With everything that was going on, he had no time to heal. He was torn in half in December, only to be shredded into a million pieces come January. He thought he lost me, he lost our child, and then he lost his mother. Not only did he want time to heal, but he also needed it. We needed it.
So we took the time we deserved, packed up my dorm as well as his captain’s quarters, since neither of us would be returning to campus until the fall, when a new captain would be moved into Noah’s old space. And then we left for my parents’ house. My dad surprised us when we arrived, his man cave having been turned into a cozy little studio that he insisted Noah and I stay in.
Everyone wondered why we didn’t simply stay at the beach house, but I wanted a fresh start somewhere where he and I shared no pain, so that’s what we have.
But it’s Valentine’s Day today, and Noah wanted to bring me to my favorite place, so who was I to deny him?
With a long, settling sigh, I look out the window as we roll to a stop in the driveway; my excitement peaks, and I’m in a rush to jump out.
So, as soon as Noah puts the truck in park, I reach for the handle, but he quickly presses the lock button, and my head snaps his way.
With a smirk, he climbs out, then reaches back in and tugs me to hi
m. He steps between my legs, and kisses me, his hands sinking into my hair. I breathe him in, my chest swelling, my arms wrapping around his neck. He lifts me from the seat, his hands cupping my ass as he presses my back against the side of the truck.
“We should go inside,” he says between kisses.
My pulse spikes, and I nod, pressing on his chest, so he lowers me to my feet.
As I round the hood and skip to the front door of the beach house, I can’t contain my smile at the fact that Noah and I have it all to ourselves for the entire weekend.
Once I unlock the door, I quickly spin, my shoulders falling against it as I watch my man walk up to me.
The prolonged anticipation is killing me, making my heart beat out of my chest, and Noah senses it. A single dark brow lifts as he grows suspicious.
“Juliet…”
“We missed so much time, Noah. I want it back.”
“Baby.” Anguish fills his voice, deep creases forming along his eyes as he reaches for me.
I grip his wrist, freeing his hand from my cheek and folding his fingers closed. I kiss his knuckles, and a frown builds across his face.
Twisting the knob, I push the door open behind me, blindly taking backward steps inside, because I don’t want to miss his reaction.
It takes him several moments to force his eyes from mine, but reluctantly, his are pulled to the living room.
His eyes widen, flicking across the space, and then they land on me.
“Ari…” he barely whispers.
I snag the red and white hats off of the back of the couch and walk to him. He bends the slightest bit, his gaze never leaving mine as I tug the Santa hat onto his head, and when I go to pull mine on, he takes it, placing it on me himself.
His arms come around me, his thumb teasing beneath my bottom lip, and the smile that curves my lips is soft. His eyes leave me then and he looks to the white flocked tree, standing tall in the corner of the room. It’s decorated in red and green lights, shiny silver bulbs covering it from top to bottom, a single present wrapped beneath it. Each wall is lined in colorful bright lights, and two stockings hang from the fireplace.
“Merry Christmas, Noah,” I whisper.
His jaw flexes as he stares at the Christmas tree, and then the mantel, where a tiny, porcelain set of angel wings sits, a red ribbon tied along its base.
And then he’s kissing me again. It’s slow and tender, and the ache in my chest deepens, but this time, it’s with longing and love.
Grabbing his hand, I lead him into the kitchen, freeing us both of our Santa hats and tossing them on the floor as we curve around the corner.
Silver and gold tinsel hang from the ceiling, matching confetti glittering the floor.
I let go of his hand and step toward the corner and click on a switch, and the mini disco ball sitting on the kitchen island flicks on, spinning and sparkling across the walls.
Hopping up on the counter, I look to Noah.
His chest heaves as he glances around the room, and he reaches up, gliding his fingers along one of the streamers hanging above him.
His eyes snap to mine, a war of raging emotions behind them.
“Come here.”
He does, and I open my legs for him. Noah slides right in, his hands coming down to grip my thighs, squeezing.
I grab the plastic tiara behind me and slip it on my head, and then I place his top hot on his.
Handing him a blow horn, I hold mine in my hand.
“Hey, Google,” I speak to the Google Home system, “Press play.”
Noah’s eyes narrow, and then a ten-second countdown begins.
Noah’s lips twitch and a light laugh leaves me.
I count down the last four seconds, and he follows my lead, lifting the horn to his lips, and together, we blow.
But Noah quickly tears it away, slamming his lips to mine, and this time, it’s not soft or slow.
It’s deep and dirty, and my core clenches.
I moan into his mouth, and when he finally tears away, he bites at my lips, a raspy groan leaving him.
“Happy New Year’s.” My words are choppy, needy, and his eyes darken even more.
His eyes clench closed, and his forehead falls to mine.
Sliding from the countertop, I push up on my toes, kissing the corner of his mouth and whisper, “Wait right here. I’ll be right back.”
“Baby—” He grips my hips, halting me, seeking out my lips, but I evade with a smile, chuckling when his warning glare meets mine.
“One minute, Noah.” I smile and quickly walk away, pinning him with one last look. “Stay.”
I run into the downstairs bathroom, where I hid what I need, knowing he is likely to hunt me down if I take any longer than the one minute I promised.
Tearing off my leggings and T-shirt, I quickly change, carefully pulling the strategically placed bobby pins from my hair. Up, it looked like a mess, but down, as I shake it out, it’s as if I just pulled hot curlers from it.
I dash out, grabbing the stereo system remote on my way, and when I step into the kitchen, I don’t know why, but nerves swirl through my stomach.
He senses my approach and glances back.
His entire body stiffens, and as if it’s set to slow motion, his body slowly faces me.
His eyes fall to my feet, inching their way up, and my god, does he take his time, being sure to cover every inch of my body before he, finally, meets my gaze. His lips part, his shoulders fall, and he swallows hard.
My heart beats out of control, and I slip closer, hooking my finger with his and slowly dragging him beside me.
He doesn’t watch where we’re going, doesn’t resist. He stares at my face, and I could cry at the struck expression on his.
Pushing the sliding door open, I lead us to the back patio, clicking the switch just before I exit.
The lights flick on, twinkling above and around us. The patio furniture has been pushed against the deck walls, and I laid a blue carpet across the cherry wood.
Noah’s lips press into a tight line as we step into the center of it, and he knows what to do.
He takes my hand in one of his, the other planting across my lower back.
He yanks me flush against him, the satin of my gown now flat against his chest.
“Look behind you,” I whisper.
Noah’s gaze narrows, his eyes staying on mine until the last possible second, and then he flicks them toward the wall, where a small banner hangs, reading, Avix Football Annual Gala.
His hands twitch against me, clenching. He presses me closer, his eyes coming back to mine.
I smile, and then I press play, tossing the remote to the side.
His head darts up when his coach’s voice comes over the speakers, and he stops moving, listening to the kind words the man who mentored him for the past four years spoke of him that night, the words he missed.
His chest rises and falls, a shattered breath slipping past his lips, and when Trey comes on, asking me to accept the award on his behalf, Noah chuckles, and my god, it’s a settling sound.
In the next moment, Noah is hugging me to him, squeezing me tightly.
“Baby.” A heavy breath pushes from his lips, and he pulls back, his palms flattening on my cheeks. “What did you do?”
“I told you…” Tears brim in my eyes. “We missed so much, and I’m not okay with that. I wanted it back. So I gave it to us. I was gone for what should have been our first Christmas, New Year’s, and the football gala.” I shake my head. “I refuse to miss a single thing that was meant to be ours.”
A shuddered breath leaves him and he brings his mouth closer, gliding his lips across mine.
“I love you, Noah. With all that I am and more.”
“I love you, baby. Always.” His eyes gloss over, his hands shaking against me. “I need to feel you.”
With a sly smile, I slip my arms around his neck, and whisper, “Then take me to my room.”
I yelp, when in the same second, I
’m tossed over Noah’s shoulder, and just like that… we’re headed to my room.
Noah
* * *
I take the steps two at a time, and when I push into her room, my feet jerk to a stop. Holy shit.
Fuck me.
Slowly, I lower her to her feet, my eyes flicking to hers.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she whispers, a hint of bashfulness washing over her cheeks.
I squeeze her palms, but quickly release her, moving to the calendar lying open on her bed, red rose petals all around it.
The room itself is lined with red-dimmed lights, and flameless candles are lit all around the room, something I should be doing for her. Something I planned to do for her, the items in my bag in the truck proof of that, but this…
The calendar.
The item that led her back to me.
But it’s not the same one. It’s open to February, this month, and the image on the top half is of her, wearing my letterman’s jacket. Wearing nothing but my letterman’s jacket.
She’s angled to the side slightly, sitting back on her knees, her legs bent just right to hide what’s mine, the jacket pulled in close, but only enough so that the buttons of the jacket hides her nipples, the swell of her breasts, her breastbone, and stomach on full display.
Her brown hair is down and silky straight, her eyes covered in golden glitter, her lashes thick and painted black. Her arms are bent as well, gripping onto the collar as she stares straight into the camera, the tips of her blue-painted nails, the only thing showing through the sleeves, it’s so large on her tiny frame.
I pick it up and look to her.
She smiles from the doorway, her gown glowing against the shine of the candles in the room.
“Wait until you see the ones in your jersey.”
Heat pulls at my groin, and I stalk toward her, but her hands dart up, halting me, and I glare.
Ari chuckles softly, her palms gliding up my chest. “Turn to July.”
“You covered in red and blue paint?” I picture it, her body dripping with color and nothing else.
Say You Swear Page 47