Without waiting another second, he pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me and holds my head to his chest.
I empty my lungs, my arms hanging limply at my sides, because I can’t bring myself to return the embrace, but I don’t pull away either. His T-shirt-clad chest is warm against my cheek, and his familiar smell drifts into my head, lulling my tears to a calm.
I’ve been hugged a lot. More than I like, actually. It seems to be a thing now. Females—complete strangers—come in for hugs as a greeting. Acquaintances embrace. People you run into on the street dive in all the fucking time like we’re all oh-so-close besties, even though they’re barely touching you.
I hate the fake affection.
But this is different.
He’s holding onto me. Like, if he doesn’t, I might fall.
Muscles I didn’t know I had start to relax, and his lips touch the top of my head, a warm tingle spreading over my body. It’s warm, like something I’m dying to crawl inside and just go to sleep.
Why was this so hard for my parents? It wasn’t unnatural for me to want this from them. It wasn’t. To want to share my life with people who love me. To laugh and cry and make memories together.
Because life is only happy when it’s shared.
Tears hang on my lashes, and the sudden urge to hold onto him starts to wind through me.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.
I don’t want to go home where I’m alone.
His whisper tickles my scalp. “Everyone’s going through shit, Tiernan.” He pauses as the steady rise and fall of his chest lulls me. “You’re not alone. Do you understand that?”
He tips my chin up, and I look up at him, nearly losing my breath at his warm eyes that stare right through me.
“You’re not alone,” he whispers again.
My eyes drop to his lips, and for a moment, I’m with him, breathing with him and my blood coursing hot under my skin as I take in his tanned face, smooth mouth, and the rugged scruff along his jaw.
I have a sudden urge to wrap my arms around him and hide in his neck, but he runs his thumb over my jaw. The heat under my skin spreads lower, and the small smile he had on his lips fades as he stares down at me.
Finally he blinks, breaking the spell as he drops his hand. “Get dressed, okay?” he asks. “Pants and a long-sleeved shirt. You’re with me this morning.”
Releasing me, he pours the coffee while the morning chill hits me, and all I can wish is that he was still holding me.
But my heart warms anyway. I’m with him this morning. I tread upstairs and pull on a pair of clean jeans and some socks.
After pulling my hair up, I hesitate for a moment and then knock on Noah’s door. The last time he spoke to me he threatened to spank me.
After a few knocks I hear his hard footfalls on the floor.
He swings open the door, looking hungover and prop
ping one hand on the doorframe, the other on the door like he’s trying to hold himself up.
I’m not apologizing. But I don’t really expect one from him, either.
“May I borrow a long-sleeved shirt?” I ask.
He nods and turns around, closing his eyes as he yawns. “Yeah, go for it.”
I walk in and find his closet, the door hanging open and a flannel already there in front of me.
“Fuckin’ early,” he gripes. “Does he want me up yet?”
“He didn’t say.”