Never Let Go Page 5

  “Feel better now that you've had a change of clothes?”

  I nod and turn away, searching the kitchen for any sign of alcohol. I need a drink right now, and I know that as soon as Beth gets here, she's going to turn into a freaking Nazi and start hiding it all in her room.

  “Much better,” I say, spotting a bottle of wine on the counter. It's not open yet, but I know that Noah's put it there on purpose. “Did you get the eggnog?” I ask as I move over to it, enjoying the feeling of the hardwood floors under my bare feet. I start searching through drawers on the kitchen island, looking for a cork screw.

  “As always,” he says because he knows what I freak I am for eggnog. Even if we haven't talked much in the past year, we're still friends. We'll always be friends. The heartache we shared after Never left bound us together in so many ways. Before that, I'd only looked at Noah as Never's Boyfriend. He's so much more to me now. So, so, so much more. And yet … we're still just friends.

  I find what I'm looking for and pull the cork out of the bottle, moving over to the massive china cabinet that fills up most of the back wall. Ahead and to my left, the dining room sits ominously in a bath of shadows, the chandelier above it dark and the sliding glass doors leading out to the deck cold and quiet. Over here though, the kitchen is alive with lights and smells and the sound of sizzling food. I have to swallow several times to keep myself from drooling. A fast food burger just does not cut it.

  “I'm sorry about not sending the payment for my car,” I say, hoping to get this unpleasantry out of the way early. I've been making small payments to Noah whenever I can, desperately trying to pay him back for the down payment money he lent me. And when I say down payment, I mean he paid for most of the car in cash. I wouldn't let him buy it outright. “I'm going to see if I can get a seasonal job while I'm here to earn some extra money.”

  “You don't have to pay me back, Zella,” he says, and I feel stupid for even trying. Standing here in this massive kitchen, my eyes drawn up to the raw wood beams thirty feet above me, my pride doesn't seem like that much of an issue. If he wants to pay for the car, I should let him. But then that'd be giving him the wrong idea.

  “You do too much for my crappy family, Noah,” I tell him as I grab two wine glasses from the cabinet and move back over to the kitchen island. I hoist myself up on one of the stools and pour two generous glasses. “I'm going to pay you back.”

  He pauses and turns to look at me, a spatula clutched in one hand.

  “Finish school first and worry about the car later. It's okay. I want to help, Zella. You deserve an education.” I lift my glass to my lips and chug most of the wine in a single gulp. My stomach feels queasy again, and my head starts to spin. I know Beth's going to be disappointed in me, but Noah will be, too, won't he? I keep thinking of him taking me into his arms and comforting me, but maybe he'll get mad and realize that I'm just like my mother. After he's told me dozens of times that me and my sisters aren't anything like that bitch, I've gone and proved him wrong.

  “I think I'd rather run away and join the circus,” I joke, just to see if I can get a reaction out of him. Noah chuckles, but that's about it. The room falls silent again, and I close my eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet. Come tomorrow, there won't be any, not with all of my sisters and their babies here. “So,” I begin, changing the subject. The last thing I want to talk about right now is my education and how, unless the gods above rain their blessings down around me, I won't be getting one. “How was it, meeting Never's baby? Was it weird having them name him after you?”

  “Not really,” Noah says, but I can't decode the strange hesitancy in his voice. “I mean, he's really cute. I always knew Never would make cute babies.” I watch the muscles in Noah's back slide around beneath his shirt as he opens the cabinet to the right of the stove and grabs two plates, setting them down on the counter and moving the pork chops out of the pan.

  “You just wish they were yours, right?” I blurt before I can stop myself. Damn it, Zella. Damn it, damn it, damn it. I cringe as Noah slows and then stops, turning to look at me before I can convince myself to avert my gaze. Our eyes meet and my throat goes dry at the look in his.

  “I don't really know what you're getting at, Zella,” he says because either he refuses to see the evil in me or he just doesn't want to acknowledge it. I pour myself another generous helping of wine and finish that off, too.

  “Never mind,” I mumble as Noah turns back to the stove and dishes us both some homemade applesauce and mashed potatoes. “Forget I even mentioned it.” I clear my throat and stand up, grabbing Noah's wine glass and carrying it over to him. Me, I've got my fourth serving clutched in the other hand. When he glances over at me, full lips tight and eyes dancing with a dozen different emotions I can hardly begin to decipher, I hand him the glass and our fingers brush.

  Fuck.

  My muscles go numb and my bones turn to jelly, threatening to drop me to my knees on the hardwood floor. I feel my lashes flutter and my heart rate pick up as my tongue slides across my lips and I find myself withdrawing my hand and running my fingers through my hair. All the classic signs of flirting right there, wrapped up into one ridiculously embarrassing moment for Zella Regali.

  “Downstairs or in my bedroom?” Noah asks, and I swear to God he does it on purpose. His mouth doesn't move, but the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkles slightly. “For our first movie. It's always fun to watch on the big screen, but it might be more comfy in bed.”

  “Funny,” I say, choosing to acknowledge the sexual innuendo instead of ignoring it. If I ignore it, it'll build into a crescendo that I won't be able to fight. Just like last year. “Let's eat downstairs.” I reach past him and grab my plate before he can respond, making myself comfy on the brown sectional while he goes about turning off all the lights. The only ones he leaves on are the white twinkle lights that decorate the fireplace mantle and wrap around the two story tree that has yet to be properly decorated. In the dark, in the quiet, with a plate of his homemade food sitting on my lap, I feel like I want to cry. I just want to break down right now and sob and then throw myself into Noah's arms. If I wasn't such a stubborn idiot, I'd just do it. Who cares if he still loves Never? So fucking what? She's never going to leave Ty. I can see it in her face. Noah would be mine in as many ways as it mattered. Except for one. You'd know you were second. You'd care.

  I stab a bite of pork chop and put it between my lips, trying not to orgasm all over Noah's couch.

  “This is so fucking good,” I moan as he sits beside me – not next to but literally beside so that our thighs are touching – and turns on the TV. It's this monstrous screen that should rightfully only belong in a movie theater, and the light from the menu screen illuminates every perfect feature of his face. “You're an amazing chef, Noah. Seriously. Thank you.”

  He pauses what he's doing with the remote to look over at me and smile. In this light, his blue eyes look almost translucent, reflecting back the pale glow of the screen, and his smile is ten times too big for the compliment I just gave him.

  “Anytime,” is all he says before pulling up a list of movies on the TV's menu screen. Noah Scott's freaking television has apps on it. Mine is small enough to stuff behind the driver's seat of my car. Go figure. “Anything in particular you want to watch?” he asks me, but I don't care, so I just shrug and we end up with It's a Wonderful Life playing in ridiculously high-def.

  I finish my food in record time and set my plate on the floor. Without even thinking about what I'm doing, I sit back and lean my head against Noah's shoulder, like we're still in high school or something. He stiffens but only for a moment and then I'm shivering as his arm wraps around my waist and tugs me to him. The heat from Noah Scott's body makes my toes curl and my breath huff out in small bursts. Just three nights ago, I was kissing Tobias Underwood and letting him move inside of me. How can I sit here now and let Noah Scott hug me, hold me, touch me?

  I bite down hard on my lower lip as he adjusts him
self and grabs a blanket off the back of the couch to toss over us. With the fire and the heat of his body, it's hardly cold, but I like the feeling anyway. I like being wrapped up in a cocoon with Noah by my side.

  “Did you invite your girlfriend to come up this week?” I whisper, not so subtly asking Noah if he even has one. I snuggle closer in the ensuing silence and his arm tightens around me. The crackling of the fire seems so loud right now, like it's drowning out the voices from our movie.

  “I don't have a girlfriend,” he says honestly, no hint of scorn or frustration in his voice. Sometimes, I wish he would just get frustrated with me, scream at me, tell me I'm driving him up the fucking wall. Even though I'd still say no, even though I'd fight, it would be nice.

  “How come?” Goddamn it. The words keep coming, even though I don't want them to. I pinch my eyes closed and wish for it all to stop. At the same time, I'm sitting here, waiting with bated breath for him to say something like, 'I was waiting for you, Zella. This whole year, I waited. I knew you'd come back to me'. Instead he sighs against my hair and makes me shiver. He chooses not to answer the question.

  “What about Tobias? It's the holidays, and he's your boyfriend. Why am I sitting here with my arm wrapped around you? Where is he?” The sound of Tobias' name makes me sick, but I can't force my body to get up, to scoot away. I can't seem to do anything but lie here and savor the feeling of Noah's body pressed tight to mine. “What would he do if he knew I was holding you like this?” Noah's mouth gets awfully close to my ear, his hot breath making me tingle in places where the sun doesn't shine. That one night, that one single perfect night. It was the best sex of my life. It made me wish I hadn't given my virginity to Tobias, that I'd saved it for Noah. But then, Noah gave his to my sister, so I had to do something to make it all seem right.

  “He'd knock your teeth in,” I whisper because it's true. Tobias really would, even after all we've been through. He'd probably still do it now. Yeah, he had no problem throwing me to the wolves, keeping his student career in check while mine went out the window, but he'd still fight Noah off of me. I think about his face, red and panting, chasing after my car. I wonder what it was that he wanted to tell me?

  “Then tell him to bring it on,” Noah says, leaning down, pressing his mouth to my neck. As soon as his lips sear my skin, I break down and shatter into a million pieces. My arms come up of their own accord, fingers tangling in Noah's blonde hair and pulling his face down against the curve of my neck. He kisses me and breathes along my skin, making me question everything that I've been doing for the past year. Why haven't I been here relaxing in your arms? Sneaking kisses with you between classes? Watching crappy movies with you at night?

  “Noah,” I groan as he finds his way to my ear, kissing and gently nibbling at the flesh until my fingers tighten so hard on his scalp that they hurt. The arm he has wrapped around my waist pulls me closer, pressing my back against his chest, while the other finds my breasts through my shirt, kneading them with gentle caresses that Tobias couldn't even begin to manage with his clumsy ass hands. This whole scene, down to the sigh of contentment he breathes against my scalp, reminds me of last year. Of me finding him in Never's room with a broken heart and a broken window, of taking him into my arms, of him telling me he wasn't ready for a relationship.

  I feel my body stiffen and so does he.

  “What?” Noah asks, voice gentle and understanding. Why, why, why is it always like that? I know he has freak-outs and panic attacks just like the rest of us. Why can't any of them be about me? I hate myself even as I think that. I don't want to be a selfish brat. That's not me. So why am I like this with Noah now? What the fuck did I do to our friendship last year when I coaxed him into bed? Is the damage irreparable?

  Well, I sure as hell won't make the same mistake again.

  I push away from him and extract myself from his arms, taking the blanket with me and burrowing into the couch a whole cushion away from the blonde haired, blue eyed man sitting across from me. No matter how hard I try, I can't forget that email he sent me the next day, after I'd left for Texas. He accused me of trying to hurt him, of mimicking Never on purpose by leaving. The really, really sad part about that is that it's true. I did. I left because I wanted to see if he'd come after me, and he never did.

  “We can't just sit here and neck like we're teenagers,” I say with a false laugh. “Hell, we didn't even do this when we were teenagers.”

  “Time wasted,” Noah says, scooting towards me. He holds up the remote and turns off the TV, leaving us alone with the crackling fire. I don't miss the fact that there's a sheepskin rug lying in front of it. How classic is that? “Maybe we should've been.”

  “Maybe you weren't ready,” I say, quoting his own words back at him. I know she doesn't want me, Zella, but I don't want a relationship. I'm just not ready to open my heart yet. I frown at the memory.

  “Maybe not, but I am now.” My eyes snap up to his and find that his gaze is dark, sensual. If I let him, he'd lay me down right here and let me touch that brand new body of his, feel up all his muscles. In the silence, I hear my phone buzzing from the table near the front door. I must've left it there when I first came inside the house.

  “I better get that.”

  I stand up, taking the blanket with me, and turn on the lamp next to the couch. Immediately, I can feel a change in the room. The sensual intimacy of it fades away, and I'm left holding my pink cell phone and staring down at a text from an unknown number.

  its me whr r u

  That horrendous butchery of the English language could only come from one source. I translate the words in my head. It's me. Where are you? I text Tobias back and tell him to fuck off.

  You threw me under the bus, Tob. I lost everything because of you.

  Then I block that number, too. I doubt he'll run out of friends' phones to use, but I can keep trying.

  “Your boyfriend?” Noah asks, and I can hear the distaste in his voice before I even look up and see the frustrated frown pinching his lips. He sighs and sits back, absolutely fucking adorable in his white socks and jeans, his T-shirt, his beautiful blonde hair. “What did he do now?”

  I set the phone down and try to decide how to answer that question. Noah doesn't exactly know how Tobias and my relationship works, but I think he has some ideas. He's seen a few of the bruises, but I never give him straight answers about where they come from. He suspects, but he doesn't know.

  “Yeah. He's just checking in with me.” The statement's true enough.

  I stare across the room at Noah, watch him watching me, and then I turn and head up the stairs to go to bed alone.

  9

  The next morning, I wake to a fingernail poking against my cheek. I bat the hand away and try to roll over.

  “Leave me alone, Ciara,” I growl, burrowing into my pillow and sighing as it cups my head and lulls me back to sleep. The nail intrudes into my half-dream of a naked Noah Scott, causing my eyes to open and an angry frown to build on my lips. That's when I remember that I'm not at school right now, not in my dorm room, that I never will be again. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder and find Never sitting there with her black and orange hair, smiling at me. She looks good. Tired, but good.

  “Rise and shine, bitch,” she says as I roll over and wrap my arms around her waist. She's wearing a baggy black sweatshirt with skeletons on it and smells like patchouli incense. Only in my family. As soon as she touches a hand to my head, I start to cry. I don't really mean to, but there it is. And it's not just about school and Tobias and the unfairness of the world, it's because I didn't say anything when she stood up to my mother, called her out for getting engaged to Luis. It's because she ran away and I missed and her because Noah suffered and because we're all now stirred up in this pot of shit together.

  I sniffle and force myself to pull away and sit up. To her credit, Never doesn't look uncomfortable, just bemused. I study the slight smile on her lips and the paleness of her cheeks. Something's up
with her. I want to know what it is, damn it. I want to help her at the same time she's helping me. That's what family's about, right?

  “You're gonna get through this, Zella. I can promise you that much.” Never turns towards the bedroom door and I follow her gaze. Apparently, the inside of each door is decorated, too. Mine has a wooden advent calendar with paintings of smiling mice. “Did something happen last night?”

  I yawn and lift my arms above my head, trying to get in a good stretch. All that time in the car yesterday was rough. I drop my hands back to my lap and twist them around in the fabric of the blue bedspread.

  “Why? Did Noah say something?” Never turns her head to look at me, hazel eyes bright, like a mirror image of my own. It's cool that we look so much alike, but at the same time, would I have so many mental problems if we didn't? Would I have to wonder so much if Noah sees her every time he looks at me?

  “He just seems bummed the fuck out is all.” Never pats her sweater down looking for a cigarette and then frowns heavily. “He was making bacon and listening to Christmas carols. Ty thought we should have him committed.” I watch her as face as she says her husband's name. The change is subtle, but it's there. Never is head over heels for that guy. Maybe changing her last name from our mother's to our father's helped get rid of the Regali curse? Maybe I should change my last name to Ross, too? Zella Ross. I like the sound of it.

  “We … watched some movies last night,” I say, my useless words hanging in the early morning air. Never gives me a raised eyebrow over her shoulder. “And he kissed my neck. I stopped him before things went too far.”

  “Why?” she asks, turning around, so she can focus that penetrating gaze on my face. “Tobias was and is a piece of shit. I'm sorry he fucked you over, Zella, but good riddance to him. Screw that asshole. I don't know if there's anything we can do about what happened at the school, but you can at least use the time you're here to talk to Noah.”