Chapter Twenty-Three
Noah got to the park early, forgetting that meant he’d just be hanging around waiting for Amanda, who he expected to be late. But he didn’t mind. He hadn’t been able to spend another second in the apartment, Luke’s words echoing in his head.
He knew how it looked to have jumped so quickly from Kristina to Amanda, starting something that took up so much of his time right before he had big plans to move. Plans he’d roped his brother into. Plans he needed to follow through on.
But that didn’t mean his brother knew what he was talking about. Noah sighed, watching little kids playing in the grass. He wished he had a run scheduled for today, something to distract him. He wished he could see Amanda’s face right now and feel centered again.
To his surprise, she texted and said she was already in the park. Maybe he was rubbing off on her, he thought with a smile. She must have known exactly what he needed.
But when she got there, following his directions to the bench, he could immediately tell that wasn’t it. Something was wrong.
Her eyes were rimmed with red, her cheeks flushed. She looked like she was trying not to run up to him but wanted to run up to him but also didn’t want to want to run up to him—a kind of half jog, half stumble he didn’t understand.
If she’d been smiling, he’d have known it was because she couldn’t wait to see him—even though they’d kissed good-bye only a few hours ago. But the stormy look in her eyes, the pink of her face, said differently. Maybe she did want to see him. But that didn’t mean something wasn’t wrong.
“Was work okay?” he asked in concern as she came up.
“Work was fine—I left early.”
He frowned. “But you got there late.”
“And I’m sure the zombies will miss me.”
“Amanda, what happened?” She loved her job. She never talked like that about it.
Noah groaned. “I wanted to tell you—he pretty much accosted me at home, saying he knew about us.”
“Thanks for the warning,” she said. “I didn’t get your text until he’d already said his piece.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was. Sorry about Luke, sorry about not telling her sooner, sorry about how all of this went down. He’d so wanted to shield her from anything painful that might happen. It hurt to know how much he’d failed.
“He’ll get over it,” he said gently, reaching to take her hand and reassure her this was going to be okay.
But she slid her hand away before he could touch her. “I don’t think this is as not-a-big-deal as you’re making it.”
He thought about the things his brother had said. But that had been heat-of-the-moment stuff. Mad at Noah stuff. Nothing Amanda had to be upset about.
“I know Luke,” he said firmly. “He’ll be dramatic for a while, but things will calm down.”
Amanda turned to him on the bench. “Noah. He basically called me a slut.”
“What?” He jumped to his feet, a burst of raw energy coursing through him. Everything in him recoiled. Nevermind—that was not some argument between brothers that Amanda didn’t have to fret over. As soon as he saw Luke, he was going to—
“I mean, he didn’t say that exactly,” Amanda said quickly, pulling on his sleeve. “But it clearly was the idea.”
His heartbeat, which had shot up like the gun going off at race, slowed—but only a drop. “Tell me what he said.”
She swallowed. Looked away. Looked back at him, but she couldn’t keep his gaze.
“That you’re just using me for a good time before you leave,” she said, her voice a hoarse, flat monotone that made his heart crack. “That you’re confused and rebounding after Kristina. That I’m not girlfriend material anyway. So sure, whatever. He hopes we have fun screwing around until you get something better.”
He sat down again, his legs giving way underneath him.
“Amanda,” he said.
“It’s okay. I know it’s true.”
His hands clenched by his sides. He wanted to hug her, hold her. Reassure her that everything Luke said was bullshit and they both knew it.
But it was like there was a force field around her. Or maybe it was around him; maybe he was the one who was closed off. She’d already pulled away once. He couldn’t bring himself to reach for her and get the cold shoulder again.
“It’s not true,” he said vehemently. “It’s just Luke.”
“I know,” she said. “And I get it. He’s jealous, hurt, betrayed, whatever. We knew this was coming and that we should have said something from the beginning instead of sneaking around. But…”
“But what are we, in order to tell him.” He supplied the rest of the sentence when her voice caught and she couldn’t finish.
What were they when they started? How did they know when this began to change? What were the right words to tell Luke when they hardly knew what to say between themselves?
Finally, she shifted toward him. But when she lifted her eyes to meet his, there was none of the spark there, the energy and light and creativity and Amandaness he’d come to associate with her.
“But what are we,” she echoed, in a way that sounded…sad. Like she already knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.
“We’re—” He started, but then he didn’t know what to say. Everything felt both too big and too small for this park bench, this afternoon, this one single moment on which too much had come to depend. “We’re having a really good time together.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it immediately. She leaned forward on the bench, away from him, and he felt the wall between them grow.
“Yeah,” she said. “We are.”
“And it’s been a surprise,” he went on. “How much this has come to mean to me in such a short time.”
“Me, too,” she said, elbow on her knee, her chin resting in her hand.
“And I want to enjoy that without forcing it.”
She nodded. Slightly.
It sounded like they were saying nice things. At least it should have been nice to tell her this meant something to him and to hear she felt the same.
Except their voices didn’t sound like that. Their faces didn’t look like that. She looked miserable. He could only imagine that he did, too.
But what was he supposed to do? Get down on one knee after a month together and announce that he was going to give up L.A., give up the closeness he’d always had with the one constant person in his life, give up the stable job he’d worked hard to find? Give up the whole next chapter in his life, the one he’d been planning for and counting on for longer than he’d shared a bed with her?
How could he announce such a monumental change to a woman who right now wouldn’t even look at him?
Who wasn’t getting down there in the trenches with him and saying, “I want this. I need this. Stay.”
And even if she did do that, say that—was it even a good idea?
It’s only been four months since I could barely peel you off that couch. He heard Luke’s warnings echoing in his mind. How recently Noah had thought his life would be with Kristina. How he was in no position to be making huge life changes yet again.
How much Luke had given up to move with him, and the pressure not to let his brother down.
For all that Luke had sounded angry that morning, it wasn’t anger—not really. Noah knew because he knew his brother’s face almost better than he knew his own.
Hurt. The look on Luke’s face had been hurt.
He’d hurt his brother, and now he was hurting Amanda. Everyone he was close to, everyone he tried to do right by. It felt like all he did was mess up. Unable to make a commitment or break one. No clue what was the right thing to do.
“I have to go back to work,” Amanda said, jerking him out of his spiraling thoughts.
He looked up. “You didn’t eat anything.”
“You can have my sandwich. I’m not hungry.”
He tried to protest. He tried to come up with something—anything—to say. The words that would draw her back to him, draw her near, and show how much he wanted her. No matter how complicated life was.
But she was already walking away, leaving him sitting there on the park bench on what should have been a beautiful day.
He made himself eat, but he barely tasted anything. All he could see were his own shortcomings, the way he’d said too little, too late. And the way she’d given him so little in return.
If she didn’t love him. Or even if she did, a little, if it was buried too deep for her to access. If she couldn’t say it, didn’t want to say it, had whatever reasons to hold those words back. The details didn’t matter if the result was the same.
If she wasn’t about to say she loved him…then how could he change all his plans…for a maybe? How could he disrupt his whole life for a question mark, a bitten lip, a shrug?
How could he turn away from his brother for someone who didn’t know what she wanted or if what she wanted was him?
He’d gotten too wrapped up in a relationship before, thinking he had his whole future mapped out with one woman. If an eight-year relationship could disintegrate like that, how could he do the same thing all over again after only a month?
It wasn’t over—she hadn’t said that. But they needed time to cool off. All three of them.
It’ll be okay, he tried to tell himself.
He didn’t know how he’d survive if it wasn’t.