Page 9 of Noah
“You’re right. You don’t understand.”
“Noah,” he says, sounding kind and horribly supportive. Which isn’t something Noah knows how to deal with.
“Don’t…don’t use that tone of voice. Just tell me what you want to say. You’re not my...anything.”
Jensen takes a deep breath in and then lets it out. “Fine. What he gave you wasn’t what you wanted. I’ve known you for less than 24 hours and I can tell that isn’t what you wanted.”
It’s actually enraging. “Don’t pretend to give a shit about me. Or to know what I’ve been through. Don’t pretend to know anything about me.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, and Noah gets light-headed, a bizarre reaction to the easy capitulation and definitely a sign that he is not in a good place. He plunks down onto a bar stool so he doesn’t fall down and has to put his head on the cool marble counter.
“I’m sorry. You’ve been so kind to me and I don’t even know what to do with that I’m so used to…he says he misses me,” Noah mumbles.
“Do you miss him?” Jensen asks.
Noah swallows hard. “No. Yes. I shouldn’t. I miss the idea of him. What I wanted him to be. What if you’re right? What if he’s a monster, they’re all monsters and there isn’t anyone out there who will take care of me?” God, has there ever been a more depressing possibility?
“People are typically disappointing,” Jensen says, and he sounds cold and a little distant. “Isn’t it better to take care of yourself?”
“I’m pretty sure the answer is no. Who disappointed you?”
He blinks at Noah. “No one.”
“Then why do you live like this?” Noah asks, and sits upright, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Is it that bad? I like solitude,” Jensen says, shrugging.
Which is clearly not the full answer but he isn’t going to push.
“It’s not bad, it just feels lonely. I mean…you could get a throw blanket or pillow or something.”
“Do they come in gray?” He asks.
Noah rolls his eyes. It’s amusing enough and he’s depressed enough that he lets himself smile at the paltry joke. “People need human contact. Friends that can help them when things are tough. You were in the military. The army isn’t one man.”
“That’s true. But I’m not in it anymore. Plus, the army also gave me nightmares and PTSD, so I’m not really sold on a lot of their slogans masquerading as life lessons anymore.”
“Touche,” he says and takes another sip of coffee. “This is good by the way. I was drinking Folgers.”
“I believe that.”
Noah sputters in indignation. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It just seems like you’ve made a lot of decisions that while technically fitting the requirement, don’t wind up being very satisfying or pleasurable.”
“Ouch. Right for the jugular.”
“You are much too good for him. If ever you think you should go back to him, please come and get me. I mean it.”
“Careful or I’ll just start sleeping in your bed for the foreseeable future.”
“If that’s what it takes to get you through this and away from him, that’s fine,” he says.
“Well, uh, thank you, by the way, for letting me stay in your room. Sorry for…presuming.” It isn’t the right word, but he doesn’t have it in him to apologize for stripping down and getting naked when he’s only on his first cup of coffee.
There’s a long pause as Jensen decides what he wants to say. Apparently, men stripping down in his bedroom expecting to pay for kindness with sex isn’t something he’s all that used to, Noah thinks snidely.
“You don’t ever have to offer yourself to me, you know. There are no conditions for you to live here.”
