Chapter 55

Hannah

I couldn’t breathe.

Something dreadful swelled in my chest, my breath lodged in my throat as I stumbled blindly away from the library room. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, my shoulders shaking with the force of my silent sobs.

Seeing Noah like that, laughing and joking and carrying on with those kids... It was like a punch to the gut. I felt as if all of the air had been knocked out of my lungs, or like the rug had been pulled out from under me.

He was so good with them. So natural, so playful, so utterly at ease. Sure, it had taken him a few minutes, but…

I guessed a part of me had always known, deep down, that he would make a wonderful father. But seeing it with my own eyes was almost too much to bear.

Especially when paired with the crushing knowledge that I was pregnant with his child. His child that he might never know about, never get to experience this kind of joyful bonding with.

The hallway seemed to spin around me as I finally found a quiet stairwell, sinking down onto the steps and burying my face in my hands. Wave after wave of sobs crashed over me, my shoulders heaving with the effort of holding back the sounds. No, I couldn’t let anyone see me cry.

I had no idea how long I sat there, lost in my own thoughts, before a sudden creak of the door reached my ears. I flinched, hunching my shoulders instinctively as I tried to stifle my cries.

But it was too late.

“Hannah?”

Noah’s low voice drifted toward me, achingly familiar but also filling me with anger just at his presence. So now he decided to come to me; when I had needed him at the haunted house, though, he had gone to Zoe instead. If she were here, would he have come to me at all?

I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling fresh tears slip from beneath my lashes as my cheeks flushed hot with humiliation and anger.

I heard him cross the small space, and a moment later, the stair creaked ever so slightly as he settled himself a few feet away from me. He didn’t speak again, didn’t press or pry. I couldn’t decide if his silence was comforting or if it just made me even angrier. Why couldn’t he just fucking say something?

“What do you want?” I hissed, maybe a bit more forcefully than intended.

He remained silent. I didn’t look at him, didn’t pull my hands away from my face. But I felt the air shift around me as Noah extended one arm, the warmth of his palm pressing against the center of my back.

He didn’t move his hand in a circle, nor did he try to pull me into his arms like a husband should. He simply let it rest there as my body shook with the force of my sobs.

And somehow, impossibly, that simple gesture made me cry even harder.

I just wanted him to hug me. I wanted him to hold me in the same way I had seen him hold Zoe.

But he couldn’t even bother to do that.

When I finally found my voice again, it was raw and choked. “What do you want?” I repeated, straightening and wiping at my wet cheeks with the back of my hand.

Noah remained silent, his hand still pressed firmly against my back even as the tremors wracking my frame eased somewhat. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke again in that same low, gravelly voice that I loved and hated all at once.

“Why are you crying?”

For a moment, I wanted to tell him—I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to tell him about the baby, about my death and rebirth, about what I wanted and needed from him even if he never cared to deliver.

But I couldn’t. It wasn’t worth it because I knew he wouldn’t care about the truth: that seeing him play with those kids and knowing that he would never do the same for our own child was like a fresh heartbreak.

“It’s just that time of the month,” I mumbled, grimacing even as I said it. “Sorry.”

For a long stretch, Noah said nothing. I half expected him to get up and leave, to disappear like he usually did whenever my emotions bubbled too close to the surface for his liking. And in a strange sort of way, I kind of hoped that he would. That would have made it easier to hate him.

But he didn’t. Not right away, at least.

My breath caught in my throat as Noah’s arm finally slid around my shoulders, his palm settling against my arm as he tugged me close. I resisted for only a moment before crumbling, my forehead falling against his shoulder as his familiar scent enveloped me.

We sat like that for several long moments, my earlier sobs giving way to hitching breaths and quiet sniffles as Noah’s solid warmth bled into me. His presence was like an anchor, utterly unwavering, as the storm of emotions slowly ebbed to a dull ache inside of my chest.

But then, finally, after what could have been an eternity, Noah shifted beside me. He rose without a single word, taking a small step back and letting his hand fall away from me entirely.

I immediately felt the loss of his warmth like a physical ache. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to look up and meet his gaze just yet as I fumbled to compose myself.

“It’s time to go,” he said in that usual curt tone of voice of his. “I don’t have a lot of time to wait around.”

With that, he turned and left, moving purposefully through the door and letting it drift shut behind him with a soft thud. He didn’t look back, didn’t wait for me, didn’t say a single damn thing.

There it is, I thought to myself as I watched his fading form. That old, typical Noah: cold as ever.

I turned my head and stared for a moment at the space where he had been sitting, feeling that horrible, raw ache blossoming in my chest once again. He had given me crumbs, the barest rendition of a hug he could muster, and now… nothing.

But I refused to cry again.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I laced my fingers together and straightened my spine. I lifted my chin, steeling my face and locking any remnants of emotion behind that impassive mask that I had been working so hard on lately.

Noah wouldn’t see me fall apart like that ever again.

Resolved, I stood on legs that felt like jelly and squared my shoulders, making my way toward the door. Noah was waiting for me, after all; and I knew he wouldn’t wait for long, because his patience for me had been as thin as paper since the beginning.

I needed to be strong. I had to push past this, build my walls up higher than ever before. This had just been a momentary lapse, a moment of weakness brought about by my nurturing instincts kicking in upon seeing him play with those kids.

Never again.