Saving Noah

by Shandi Boyes

  If I knew now what I did back then, I would have told her what I saw that night. I came close when we were confessing our secrets in the cave at Bronte’s Peak, but Emily’s hungry tummy stole my chance, then it never presented again, leaving me with another burden on my already heavy shoulders.

  Chapter 54

  Noah

  Over the next few weeks, I talk about Emily more regularly. It still hurts, but Dr. Miller has me convinced that my two-month absence didn’t make Emily feel less loved. Although we’ve worked through a lot of my guilt during our twice-daily sessions, nothing Dr. Miller can say will convince me I wasn’t in the wrong.

  Our time apart began because of a misunderstanding, but I should have manned up and asked Emily about Zander instead of letting my insecurities fester for weeks on end. If I had done that, I wouldn’t have to live with the fact it was Zander who proved Emily had never lied to me...

  Cormack’s executive assistant taps on the conference room door. “Noah, there’s someone here to see you.”

  Since we’ve just finalized our meeting about our upcoming tour with the O’Reilly Brothers, I shadow Peta into the foyer. I’m excited about who could be visiting me... until an arrogant smirk becomes recognizable halfway through Peta’s introduction.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I tug Peta behind me like it’s my job to protect every woman on the planet from scum like Zander Louisa—Emily’s ex-boyfriend.

  “I just want to talk...” He glances past my shoulder. “Alone.”

  When I follow his gaze, I spot Delilah watching our exchange with evil, beady eyes.

  I return my focus to Zander. “Five minutes.”

  A cool breeze blowing in from the west does little to calm my anger when I break through the glass door of Destiny Record’s temporary office. Zander’s feet barely hit the sidewalk when I begin our “talk” with a warning. “If I find out you touched her, I’ll—”

  “I haven’t touched her,” Zander interrupts. “She doesn’t even know I exist.”

  He drags his fingers through his long, dark hair, making me realize he’s still a surfer boy who has no clue how to treat a lady. Age hasn’t matured him. If anything, it has him striving to maintain his youth, which means he’s even less worthy of Emily now than he was when he took her virginity with fake promises and a bunch of lies.

  “I don’t know why I’m here. I thought... I wanted...” He exhales while shooting his eyes up to the cloud-filled sky. I don’t know what he sees, but it has him singing his confessions like a canary. “I transferred to Parkwood State a few months ago. I noticed Emily in my first class of the day, economics. I couldn’t believe out of all the colleges in the country, I transferred to the same one she attends. Guilt has plagued my dreams for years, so I thought fate had played its hand, and this was my chance to make things right with her.”

  He laughs a pained chuckle. “I waited for her outside of her building later that afternoon. It took me all day to work up the courage to speak to her. I nearly chickened out when I saw her galloping down the stairs, but her smile stopped me.” He nervously shifts from foot to foot. “It was her smile; you know, the one that makes time stand still?” Although he’s asking a question, he continues speaking, “The one you’d give up everything you have to see time and time again.”

  His eyes return to me. “She only gave me that smile once. It was the day I fucked everything up, so to see it again... I was ecstatic.” He rubs his hands together, even striving to warm them up or to rid them of sweat. I’m not sure which. “It was only when she leaped into your arms did I realize her smile wasn’t for me. It was for you. The gleam in her eyes, the extra spring in her step as she raced down the sidewalk, they were all for you.”

  I can’t tell if he’s pissed or pleased. It may be a combination of both.

  “I should have been happy that what I did didn’t irreparably scar her, but that was the last emotion I felt. I was angry, sad, and for some fucked-up reason, jealous.”

  Although aware of how quickly Emily imprints herself on people, I hate that she causes that neurosis from men like Zander—even more so with what he says next, “Instead of being happy for her, I waited in the wings, seeking an opportunity to swoop in and win her back.” His throat works hard to swallow. “The perfect ruse was unearthed when I overheard her talking to you. I asked my friend Matt to grab her in a bear hug, hoping a little jealousy would have you fucking up. It was only when Emily dropped her phone did the brilliance of my plan truly shine. Even the most confident man hates the idea of his girl in the same room with the man who popped her cherry.”

  I fist his shirt before pulling him to within an inch of my face. Even though his tone is crammed with remorse, that night was the start of the worst two months in my relationship with Emily. And for what? For him to hurt Emily all over again.

  “She never gave me a second look; no one had a chance with her.” He could be trying to weasel himself out of a fucked-up situation, but his next set of words shows a different motive. “She took extra classes and hid in her room, waiting for you to call." He laughs again, more troubled than his first. "She didn’t even notice me when I was right in front of her last week. Her shoulders were hanging as low as her head. She seemed miserable. When I saw your performance on MTV, I realized why. I had hurt her again.” His remorse-filled eyes bounce between mine. “That’s why I’m here. I fucked things up, so I’m here trying to make them right.”

  “You love her?”

  I don’t know where my question came from. It could be the gleam in his eyes, or the fact he’s confronting me instead of Emily, but I’m so confident in my assumption, I don’t need to see his nod to know of his confirmation.

  I push him away from me before I make matters worse. I stand in the street clenching and unclenching my fists as I strive to think of a solution that doesn’t include violence. It’s a goddamn long five minutes. He caused Emily months of torment. She was ridiculed and bullied to the point those around her grew worried about her mental state. How can I walk away from that without forcing him to endure one-tenth of the pain she experienced? Wouldn't that make me as bad as him?

  It’s only when our eyes meet for the quickest second do I get my answer. He’s in love with a woman he’ll never have. I’m not any better than the pathetic man standing in front of me, but I still have Emily’s love. So, as much as I want Zander to pay for what he did, he’s already being punished.

  With that in mind, I leave him standing in the middle of the street while I go and call the love of my life to ensure she knows how much she means to me...

  Chapter 55

  Noah

  “You’re in the final stretch now, Noah, your very last week.”

  I grin at the eccentrics in Dr. Miller’s voice. I never thought I'd survive three months of rehab, yet here I am in the final week. I won’t lie. It’s been an eye-opening few months. After heavily detoxing my first four nights, I was concerned I’d never play the guitar again. Thankfully, once all the gunk I had pumped into my veins the prior three months was out, my hands stopped shaking, and normal finger functions returned.

  Although he appears extremely uncomfortable during his visits, Jacob has visited me every weekend of my stay. I told him he didn’t need to come every weekend, but he’s always here bright and early every Saturday morning. His visits added a touch of amusement to my week. Not just because he’s a funny fucker, but because his face stays as white as a ghost from the second he enters until he’s in the safety of his car. I’ve never seen him more petrified in my life. I shouldn’t get comfort in the fact rehab freaks him out, but I do.

  My grin slackens when Dr. Miller fills the seat across from me. “Today, we’ll discuss what life will be like once you leave Hope Hills. When you arrived here, I misjudged you. I apologize for that, but you need to understand your life will be starkly different when you walk out these doors.” She points to the doors of her office like they’re a gateway to heaven. “The temptation
to drink will be unyielding, especially for someone in your profession. You’ll have the paparazzi nipping at your feet, begging you to take the bait they’re throwing out, and fans will want more than you’re willing to give.”

  She scoots closer to me. “You can’t let any of them get to you. If you’re feeling tempted, remember the steps you’ve been taught. Stop and assess the situation, breathe deeply, consider what other actions you could take, analyze the situation, and act in a responsible, calm manner.”

  When she leans over to curl her hand over mine that is balled, I know she's about to hit me with something big. My intuition is spot on when she murmurs, “I also think it’s vital in your recovery to visit Emily. Denying what happened isn’t helping anyone. It’s time for you to face reality head on. Can you do that, Noah? Can you take a step forward instead of back?”

  I never knew a nod could take so much effort until now.

  The remaining week is spent preparing for me to enter the real world again. My boots, clothes, and toiletries were returned yesterday, and the cargo pants hanging in my closet still have their drawstrings. I’m one step closer to going home; I just have one final matter to take care of.

  While peering at my reflection in the mirror, I scrub my hand over the messy facial hair covering my jaw. I give the scruff one final tug before splashing water on my face. Once I have a thick lather of shaving cream covering my jaw, I glide a razor down the wiry hair.

  A smile tugs my lips higher when I recall Emily shaving me the weekend of her nineteenth birthday. When I picked her up from school, she thought we were heading to Rise Up’s final show at Mavs. She had no idea the band and I had planned a surprise birthday party for her.

  Ollie was hesitant when we asked to host the event at his pub, but he was quick to change his mind when we agreed to perform an impromptu gig at Mavs any time we were in town. It wasn’t a hard offer for us to make. Mavericks was and always will be our stomping grounds.

  Although, I’m not sure I’ll ever see it in the same light now. Even with parts of the old Noah reappearing, my life will never be as it once was. Nothing is the same without Emily.

  Dr. Miller pops her head into my room. “Ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  I place a photo of Emily on top of the clothes folded in my suitcase before grabbing the last of my things from the bathroom. While I shove my toothbrush, razor, and deodorant into a waterproof bag, Dr. Miller peruses my photo.

  “She is really beautiful, Noah.” When she runs her index finger down Emily’s face, the gleam usually projecting from her ring finger is missing. She’s not wearing her engagement and wedding rings.

  “Is everything okay, Rachel?”

  I don’t often call her by her first name because it seems too informal, but her mannerisms are off today, so they have me acting differently as well.

  Her eyes turn to mine. They’re sadder than I’ve seen them before. “Yes, I'm okay.”

  Tears glisten when a bare finger stops her attempt to twirl her engagement ring. She stares down at her hand, her breathing labored. “I figured it was time to take them off.”

  I watch her curiously, unsure what she means.

  “My husband was a wonderful man, Noah. He was the love of my life, as Emily is yours.” She wipes at her cheeks, removing the tears rolling down her ashen skin like she’s embarrassed about their arrival. “He died last year. That’s why I had just returned to my job when you started your rehabilitation here.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I try to think of something more to say, but I’m at a loss. Everything I’ve been battling the past few months, Dr. Miller has been going through as well.

  “He fought hard to stay with me, but he wasn’t strong enough. He had thyroid cancer. We tried every treatment recommended by his doctors. Nothing worked. I was his nurse the last few months of his treatment. The pain of watching the man I love fade into one I no longer recognized was harder than I ever anticipated.” The determination in her eyes can’t be missed when she murmurs, “Be the man Emily wants you to be, Noah. Fight for her; make yourself the man she deserves.”

  As I stare at her in shocked silence, she struggles to regain her composure. She drags her hands across her cheeks multiple times and pinches her thigh, but when her tears continue to fall, she moves for the door, only stopping for the briefest second to whisper, “I’m sorry about the baby, Noah.”

  Baby? What baby?

  Oh god no.

  With my knees as shaky as my hands, I sprint into the hallway to catch up to Dr. Miller. I reach the corridor in record-breaking time, but Dr. Miller is nowhere to be seen. After gathering my bag from the door, I gallop down the stairs of the Hope Hills Rehabilitation Center. Jacob is picking me up today, so if anyone knows what baby Dr. Miller was referring to, it will be him.

  I find my truck in the parking lot a few seconds later with Jacob leaning against the passenger side door.

  “What baby, Jacob?”

  His eyes widen as his throat works hard to swallow. When he scratches his brow, I yell, “No more fucking secrets; I made her promise there’d be no more secrets!”

  “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want it to hinder your recovery—”

  “Was Emily pregnant?” I already know the answer, but I need him to spell it out for me.

  My heart shatters when he murmurs, “Yes, Noah.”

  I stumble backward, my head swirling as the realization of how much I've lost rains down on me.

  Why did our baby have to die too?

  Haven’t I been through enough?

  Why must I continue living this miserable, painful life?

  With my heart in lockdown, I jump into the driver’s seat and fire up the motor. My engine roars to life on the first turn of the key. When I flatten my foot on the accelerator, my truck flies out of the rehabilitation center, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. The hazy midmorning fog conjures up visions of Emily sitting cross-legged on the floor, eating pizza while asking me if I want kids.

  Did she know then she was pregnant? If so, why didn’t she tell me? She had no reason to lie to me. I said I wanted kids. I would have had her knocked up the instant she gave me permission. She didn’t need to keep this from me, so why did she?

  As I dangerously weave my truck down the rolling hills of LA, recollections of Dr. Miller’s anger management training filter through my brain.

  “Stop and assess the situation, breathe deeply, consider what other actions you could take, analyze the situation, and act in a responsible, calm manner.”

  In the hope of settling my anger, I suck in many lung-filling gulps of air. They calm me enough to remember Emily’s smile when she asked me if I wanted children. She must not have known she was pregnant then, or she would have told me. She knew how much I hated secrets and would have never kept anything so important from me.

  As I continue sucking in big breaths, the anger raging inside of me fades. I need to act responsibly, like the man Emily deserved. I also need to turn around and pick Jacob up, who’s most likely standing in the dust cloud striving to work out what the fuck just happened.

  Since I’m peering in my rearview mirror, checking if it is safe to turn around, my sharp veer around a tight corner has me almost colliding with a small child in the middle of the road. He holds his hand out in front of his body, begging for me to stop, but I’m going too fast to evade the inevitable. Instead, I slam on my brakes before yanking my steering wheel to the right. My tires skid across the road’s surface a mere two seconds before they lift from the pavement.

  As I sail through the air like a paraglider, I shift my eyes back to the little boy. He’s watching me closely, his brown eyes oddly familiar. He smiles in a way that burns my soul before he vanishes behind a cluster of trees. Knowing he is safe makes me smile.

  I’m seconds from death, but instead of feeling fear, I finally feel free. I’m soaring freely through the air like an angel would—like Emily would e
very day in heaven. When my truck glides toward a massive tree trunk, I don’t shield my body from the impact. I just close my eyes and surrender, no longer having the strength to fight.

  I think about Emily: her beautiful light brown eyes, her breathtaking smile, and her flawless face. It’s time to go home, back to Emily—the only place I’ve ever belonged.

  When my truck collides with the tree trunk, my body jerks forward. Blood splatters my chin when my ribs slamming into my steering wheel splinters my lungs with shards of bone. A sticky warmth slides down my face when a sheet of red clouds my vision. My headbutt with the dashboard leaves a wound from my hairline to my left brow.

  In the distance, I hear Jacob calling my name, his shouts closely followed by his fists frantically banging on my window. Within seconds, he shatters the glass next to my head.

  “Hold on; help is coming. I need you to fight, Noah. You have to fight!”

  I want to tell Jacob it’s okay; I’m at peace, but I can’t talk through the blood gargling in my windpipe. It’s for the best. He needs to let me go; I can’t fight anymore. I’m too tired, and it hurts too much. I can’t take the pain anymore.

  Jacob grips my hand, his eyes begging me to fight as blackness slowly rolls in.

  His pleas come too late.

  I am finally at peace.

  “Charging, fully charged, stand back, clear,” is shouted before a surge of electricity courses through my broken body.

  As my back bends in response to the zap attempting to revive me, Emily’s beautiful face flashes before my eyes. The movie rolling through my head is a slideshow of our two years together. In every image, Emily is either smiling or laughing. She looks so peaceful—happy.