Saving Noah

by Shandi Boyes

  Touché—I guess. I hate what she is saying, but we knew getting our album off the ground wouldn’t be a walk in the park, but there won’t be a follow up if I’m exhausted of material. Emily is my muse. Excluding “Hollow,” every song on our album is about her in some way.

  I jackknife back, certain I heard Delilah wrong when she snarls, “I need you back in LA as soon as possible. We have several gigs lined up over the next four weeks. I’ve scheduled you a redeye for tonight. I've spoken with Nick and understand he had a baby this morning, so he won’t honor his commitments for another week, but I’m sure you can hold down the fort while he plays house husband.” She gags during the last part of her rant, like she’s sickened as to why anyone would have a baby.

  “I can’t catch a flight tonight—”

  “You’ll either find yourself on that flight, or find your contract with Destiny Records null and void!”

  My back molars smash together as I struggle to keep a rational head. It’s impossible with this woman. She sure knows how to push my buttons—and not the good ones!

  “I’ll get on a plane tomorrow, but I’m not getting on one tonight. I have priorities that are more important than the band.”

  “Huh?! Like what?”

  She knows what, so I’m not spelling it out for her. “It’s called a compromise, Delilah. Come on, I’m sure you’ve heard of those before.” I keep my tone flirty, hoping a little bit of niceness will have her verdict swinging in my favor for once. “Please.”

  After a long pause, she huffs. “Fine! I’ll reschedule your flight for tomorrow afternoon, but if you miss that flight...” The warning in her tone finalizes her threat.

  “I won’t miss it. I promise.”

  I’m not sure if she catches my pledge since she slams her phone down into its receiver.

  “One battle down, many more to come,” I mumble to myself.

  I’m walking into the living room when Emily’s phone vibrates in my hand, showing a text from Jenni. Any annoyance bristling my skin from my confrontation with Delilah floats away when I read the text message.

  Do you want Chinese or pizza? Emily xx

  I reply back:

  Chinese with dessert? Noah xx

  Okay, what do you want for dessert?

  You! ;)

  I think I can arrange that :) I’ll see you soon xx.

  Although panicked about what her reaction will be when I tell her I have to get back on the road, I refuse to let it dampen our night. Until I work out a way I can have both Emily and my career, our schedules will be tight, but I’ll make it work. She means too much to me to give her up. I’d even leave the band before I’d give her up.

  I trip over the rug in the living room when Jacob’s angry roar booms into my ears, “You lying bitch!”

  He's no longer sitting in the dining room. His backside is planted on his dad's beloved recliner right in front of the flat-screen TV broadcasting from a house that looks remarkably similar to my childhood home.

  Bile creeps up my esophagus when the cameraman zooms out, revealing not only my worst nightmare, but the person responsible for it. My mother is standing on the front steps of the home she inherited when my grandfather passed away conducting an interview with an entertainment reporter who’s been hounding me the past three weeks.

  I step closer to Jacob just as the reporter throws back her segment to the main hosts. “As you just heard from the mom of Rise Up’s lead singer Noah Taylor, Noah has not been in contact with his family since his rise to fame began. Noah is the only surviving son Maree has left. Her youngest son Michael was killed in a traffic accident nearly eight years ago, and her eldest son Chris committed suicide four years after that. We can only hope for all involved that Noah will hear the pleas of his heartbroken mother.”

  “Rewind it.”

  Jacob pulls the remote out of my reach when I attempt to snatch it out of his hand. “Don’t get tied up in her bullshit, Noah. Just let it go.”

  “Re...wind...it!” My demand is separated with big, growling breaths. When that fails to get him jumping to my command, I add a glare to my threat. I’m two seconds from lodging my boot up his ass before rewinding the footage myself.

  Jacob’s huff reveals he’d like to see me try, but he rewinds the footage all the same. The interview takes place on the front porch of the house that caused me years of pain. My mom wears a black and white floral-printed dress with a matching cardigan, and she’s clutching a school photo of me taken the year Michael died in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. She appears as if she’s been crying, which I know is full of shit. She didn’t even cry at the funerals of the sons she liked.

  My jaw gains a tick when she begins her interview by telling the reporter she only agreed to it because she’s so desperate to reach out to me. “I’m speaking to the media in the hope of establishing contact with my son, Noah Taylor, the lead singer of Rise Up. I haven’t seen Noah since the band shot to fame a few months ago. I’ve tried many times to contact him, but he’s yet to return my calls. Noah is the only son I have left; his brothers were tragically killed...” The cameraman zooms in real close to her face when a sob steals her words. “...I’m begging you, Noah, please don’t shut me out. You’re the only family I have left. I love you, Son.”

  Peeved as fuck about the lady who abused me for years acting like a saint on TV, I rip the television’s cord out of the wall before attempting to throw it across the room. Although hate is turning my blood black, something holds me back. It could be the sympathetic look Jacob is giving me or the smell of Emily’s skin on mine, but whatever it is, for the first time in years, I don’t respond to violence with violence.

  Chapter 39

  Emily

  Chinese takeout swings in my hand when I enter Jacob’s house. With Noah and Jacob having huge appetites, I purchased nearly every item on the menu. I’m more broke than I’ve ever been, but I owed Jacob for easing my mind earlier today.

  Out of curiosity, I asked him if he knew Hope Bennett. He was as clueless as me. When I showed him the article, I read it along with him. During my second read-through, I noticed the report said Hope’s publicist had yet to confirm their report. Nothing was mentioned about waiting on a statement from Noah’s publicist, Delilah Winterbottom.

  Like lightning brightening a black sky, clarity formed. Delilah is so evil, she’d have no qualms fabricating a story to ward off questions about Noah’s declaration of love. She's been meddling with our relationship from the get-go. She has me at the end of a tether, but since I refuse to stoop to her level, I’m brushing off the article as nothing but idle gossip. Noah loves me. He declared his love in front of millions of viewers. I don’t need more proof of his loyalty than that.

  After balancing the Chinese on my hip, I increase my speed. My mood has dramatically improved the past twenty-four hours. First, reconnecting with Noah after months of absence, then my visit with Jenni. Not only did I get lots of squishy baby cuddles, but we worked out a way I can support Noah’s career and finish my studies. It’s not the degree I was hoping for, but my career choice won’t work if I’m married to a rock star.

  While Noah was sleeping, I matched the courses I’m studying with flexible career options. By staying on a similar schedule, I won’t need to restart my scholarship. I just need to make a handful of adjustments. Although I haven’t narrowed down a field I’m interested in, I did schedule a meeting with the Dean of my college for Monday morning. Once I’m closer to graduating, I’m sure the perfect career will fall into my lap. If not, the extra classes I took to ward off loneliness will come in handy.

  When I walk into the living room, I spot Noah talking on my cell. His shoulders are squared, and grooves are scouring his forehead. He seems a little tense—but he still tracks me as I cross the room. Even from a distance, his hunger can’t be missed.

  I wave at him like a naïve idiot before continuing to the leather sofa Jacob is sitting on. “Hey, Jake.”

  “Hey... O
hhh, what have you got there?”

  Jacob rubs his hands together while eyeing the Chinese. Even with the hunger in his eyes coming from food, he can’t help but tease Noah by planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek. Just as he does every time Jacob riles him up, Noah takes his bait hook, line, and sinker. He arches his brow before glaring at Jacob, giving him clear signs to fuck off.

  Jacob’s chuckle rumbles through my chest, pleased he got a rise out of Noah, before he assists me by loading the containers of Chinese onto the coffee table. Once everything is staged for a night in front of the idiot box, Jacob flops into his seat and starts devouring a box of fried rice with chopsticks. He’s as playful as he always is, but there’s a heaviness in the air I can’t ignore.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Jacob stops eating mid-chew to scratch his brow. “Yeah, I think so.”

  While Noah continues his call, Jacob tells me about how his mother held a press conference hoping to guilt Noah into contacting her. I want to pretend I’m surprised by her ruse, but I’m not. I’ve been waiting for this to happen; she just did it sooner than I anticipated. It's the same for anyone when they become famous. Family you didn't know exist come out of the woodwork, let alone ones you previously cut ties with.

  In all honesty, I'm unsure how Noah will handle his mother's attempt to steal his limelight. I'm reasonably confident he won't have any contact with her, but there are ways this can be handled without establishing a line of communication.

  Not long after Jacob consumes a box of fried rice, Noah joins us in the living room. He presses a kiss to my temple before helping himself to the Chinese. Unlike Jacob and I, he uses a fork. He’s never mastered the art of eating with chopsticks.

  In even less time than it took to cook our dinner, Noah and Jacob polish it off. Not a single morsel of rice remains.

  “Thanks for dinner, Em; I was starving.”

  When Jacob stands to clear away the empty containers, I jump to my feet to help him. He shoos me away. “You cooked; I’ll clean.”

  He disappears faster than a man his size should be able to move. Although I’m grateful to have Noah all to myself, what Jacob disclosed earlier isn’t sitting right with me. I could pretend I don’t know what Noah’s mom did, but only today we pledged not to have any more secrets between us, so I’m going to uphold my side of the deal.

  “Jacob told me about your mom. I’m sorry she’s doing this to you now."

  “By talking about it, we’re giving her exactly what she wants. Don’t waste your breath on a woman not worthy of it, Em.”

  To a stranger, Noah’s reply may seem callous, but to me, it’s spot on. Noah loves his mother—she’s the only one he has—but that doesn’t mean he can’t also hate her. She caused him years of pain. That's not easily forgivable.

  My eyes dance between Noah’s dark gaze when he stands from the sofa to hold out his hand in offering. With a smile, I accept his courteous gesture. The worry lingering in the back of my mind fades when he plucks me from my seat with a yank on my wrist, then it completely disappears when he nibbles and sucks on my lips.

  I’m lust-drunk by the time he pulls back, but no amount of haze can take away what he says next, “Marry me, Emily?”

  I wiggle my ring finger in the air, the diamond in my engagement ring bouncing rainbow hues across his face. "I already agreed to marry you." I playfully bite on his lower lip before dragging my tongue across it. “A very long time ago.”

  “I mean marry me now, like right now. We could fly to Vegas or go to the courthouse, but I want you to be my wife tonight.”

  I get giddy at his eagerness... until I realize he’s being serious.

  “We can’t ...” My words trail off when his shoulders deflate in defeat. “...Yet.” His eyes snap back to mine. “Don’t get your hopes up. We need to apply for a marriage license first. That can take a few days, but once it's processed, I’ll meet you in Vegas at a time and date of your choosing.”

  “You’ll do it? You’ll elope with me?”

  A dull ache hits my chest. I hate seeing him like this, so vulnerable and lost. His mother’s ploy to steal his limelight must be affecting him more than he's letting on. I wish he’d open up to me. I’m on his side no matter what, and if marrying him proves that, I’m all for it. We were initially planning to wed soon anyway, so what’s a few weeks between friends?

  “I can’t wait to be Mrs. Noah Taylor,” I talk over his lips before kissing him hard on the mouth.

  My boldness starts an avalanche of hands, lips, and teeth. We stumble into his room, our clothing discarded during our short trip. The lock on his door has barely clicked into place when Noah hoists me against it, slips my panties to the side, then impales me with one ardent thrust. I call out, the sensation unlike anything I’ve experienced.

  Unlike earlier today, when he cherished me by making slow tantalizing love to me, he fucks me hard and fast. He screws me senseless until his name is torn from my throat in a ragged scream, and I’m determined nothing will ever come between us again.

  Later, while in my favorite position, in the crook of Noah's arm with my head resting on his chest, he updates me on the phone calls he took while I was visiting Jenni.

  “Delilah was adamant my ass was to be on a red-eye tonight.” He gags, expressing his annoyance without words. “I managed to get a stay of execution, but not for long. I’m sorry, Em, but I have to fly back tomorrow afternoon. I’ve missed so much the past two days, Delilah is going batshit crazy.”

  He sounds concerned, panicked I’ll take the news of him leaving harshly. Although I hate that we’re parting again so soon, he’s not the only one who has important matters to attend to.

  "It's okay; I have to get back to school anyway. I have a few things to sort out."

  The concern in his eyes fades, pushed aside for a more excited gleam. I find out why when he discloses, "After talking to Delilah, Cormack called to advise the lead guitarist from Redemption was in a motorbike accident—he broke his leg in three places. With Rise Up’s recent success, Redemption’s record label asked for us to fill the remainder of their concert tours. They’ve been the opening act for the O'Reilly Brothers and have another six weeks of concerts scheduled.”

  Excitement whooshes through my blood. I’m equally shocked and thrilled. “That's fantastic!” I hug him tight. “I can’t believe you're going to be the opening act for the O’Reilly Brothers!”

  The O’Reilly brothers are multi-platinum, award-winning artists who won three Grammys last year alone. They’re my favorite band next to Rise Up.

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  My excitement dampens when I notice the panicked expression on Noah’s face. He's worried about us being apart for the six weeks of the tour. He doesn’t need to be. I’m working on a solution to fix that. I just can’t tell him my plans yet because I don’t want his hopes dashed if things don’t work out.

  “We’ll be okay. I promise you. This time, we’ll make this work.”

  He runs his index finger down my cheek before tracking it across my lips. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet. I told Cormack I wanted to talk to you first. I understand if you don’t want me to do this.”

  “I want you to do it. It’s a fantastic opportunity for the band. You can’t give this up...” My words trail off as true panic pumps into me. “What about Nick?” Jenni just gave birth, so there’s no way Nick can leave tomorrow afternoon.

  “Nick will stay here while we finalize the stage production. He’ll join us on the road just before our first gig in San Francisco.”

  I sigh, grateful. Although it isn’t ideal, I’m glad adjustments were made for the first-time father. “Everything is falling into place as it should, proving it’s meant to be.”

  “Meant to be?” I giggle when Noah flips me over before pinning me to his bed with his hips. “The only thing meant to be is me and you.”

  I'm about to tease him about how romantic he is—he hates when I jeer him about his bad-
boy persona only being a disguise for the big softy hiding beneath—but the movements of his lips stop me. He isn't talking. He's devouring—me.

  We didn’t get dressed after a joint shower to clean away the mess our fuck on his bedroom door caused, so there’s nothing between us but the bit of air he lodges between us as he moves his lips down my body. He kisses every inch of me, only stopping when he reaches regions deserving of more than a peck.

  Then, after a mind-hazing orgasm, I return the favor. I drag my lips down his smooth pecs, over the rigid bumps in his abdomen before following the thin trail of hair down his midsection.

  Noah props himself on his elbows, ready for the show when I wrap my hand around his shaft. After licking my lips, parched from the screams I released during climax, I hover over his crest. I’m dying to lap up the bead glistening at the end, but I’m trying to maintain his steady pace, so I relish the heaviness of him in my hand and his delicious scent instead.

  Only once he’s on the verge of begging does my tongue slither across the crest of his cock.

  “Fuck, Em—” He hisses out a groan when I slide my lips over his head to swallow him down gently. His cock pulsates when I accept him inside me as far as I can without gagging. I can’t take all of him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

  “That feels so good, Beautiful. Your lips were designed for this.”

  Within minutes, I have him at my mercy. His shoulders slacken when he leans back, his eyes rolling. The salty goodness dripping from his crown increases with every suck as I take him deeper, faster, almost greedily. My hunger for him is so intense, I’ve forgotten about his earlier worshipping pace. I want him moaning my name as his cock pulsates with need. To taste him in my mouth before feeling the heat of his seed inside me.

  Just as my prayers are about to be answered, Noah’s cock pops from my lips. He flips me over again, then lies on top of me. As his weight pins me to the bed, he lavishes my mouth with long, precise licks while guiding my legs around his waist.