Page 109 of Creatures Like Us
My vision is swimming with tears already. Fuck, I feel so vulnerable around him—raw and aching, not able to withstand the lightest whisper of emotion, let alone the wave of relief currently washing over me.
“Do you wish you didn’t?” I ask.
Noah doesn’t reply, and it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.
I try to keep it together, to keep my voice steady. “You lost a lot of blood, but they pumped some back into you.”
“Feels like it.” He grimaces, but his lips turn back into a smile.
I guess they’ve pumped him full of painkillers too. There’s a Band-Aid on the side of his forehead, covering the swollen bruise where I struck him. I want to kiss him there, but I imagine it would hurt.
Instead, I sit down by his side and take his hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, I?…?I promised I’d be here.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, while you were asleep. I talked to you. Did you hear me?”
Noah shrugs, but the motion seems to tug at his stitches, and his pained expression returns. “Maybe. I don’t know. Everything is very?…” He gestures weakly with his free hand. “Dreamlike.”
“But you know I’m here? You know you’re not dead?”
He smiles. “Yes, Goldilocks. I know that.”
Tears roll down my cheeks, and Noah frowns.
“Why are you crying?”
“M?…” I wipe my stuffy nose with the back of my hand before I try again. “My brother was here.”
Noah’s expression tightens. “Oh.”
“He’s sorry for what he did.”
“Is he?”
I wipe my face, but the tears are like a broken faucet; they just keep coming. All the hours and hours of worrying spill out in the form of silent tears I can’t keep inside anymore.
“You’re free to go,” Noah says suddenly.
“What?” I choke out.
He looks into the opposite wall, not meeting my gaze as he takes his hand away. “I have nothing to give you, Asher. You might as well leave.”
“But?…?But I have nowhere to go. Nothing to return to.”
“That doesn’t mean you should be with me.”
“Then why else should I be with you?” I reach for his hand again, squeezing it. “Because I love you? Is that what you want me to say?”
“I don’t?…” He swallows thickly. “I don’t want tomakeyou say anything.”
“But it’s the truth, okay? Maybe it’s wrong, and maybe I hate myself for it, but it is.”
“You hate yourself for loving me?”
