Which was the whole point, really. He was a loadstone around Beckett’s neck, and it was time he set his beloved free.
He sucked in a breath and glanced up at his strange, worried audience. “You have nothing to worry about,” he told them, even managing a smile as he did. “It will all be a distant memory soon. You’ll all move on to live happy lives full of love. And I’m very glad for it.” He glanced between Marcus and Blaise. “I’m glad you found each other. You seem well-suited.”
Several awkward beats of silence went by before Blaise said, “We are.”
Noah nodded to her. “Then that’s as it should be. And I’m happy. I really am.”
He swiped his hat from the bar, where he’d put it when Ricky had seated him. He still had his coat on, so he didn’t have to worry about that.
A thought struck him, and he pivoted to where Ravenswood was still watching him.
“Beckett really is the most wonderful man in New York,” he told him. “Maybe even the world. I…I would feel much better if….” He wasn’t sure how to say what he needed to say without sounding the alarm so that Beckett’s friends would stop what he needed to do. Instead, he asked, “You are a friend to him, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” Ravenswood said with a nod.
“Good.” Noah nodded firmly, putting his hat on his head. “I think he’ll need your friendship. It would make me rest easy to know he has it.”
“Always,” Ravenswood said, his frown darkening with suspicion.
Noah ignored that suspicion. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go,” he said, nodding to Marcus one last time.
He started away from the bar, but Marcus stopped him with, “Go where? Where are you going, Noah?”
Noah turned back to him with a smile. “Where I deserve to be,” he said, then touched the brim of his hat.
“Maybe you should wait here,” Blaise said, hurrying to his side as if she would stop him. “We’ll fetch Beckett, and then he can take you where you need to go.”
“Beckett is not my nanny,” Noah said, fighting the thread of annoyance weaving through him at the way everyone was trying to thwart his plans. “He is not responsible for every little thing I do.”
“Yes, but you don’t seem right,” Blaise went on, resting a hand on his arm. “Please, come back to the bar. We’ll…we’ll make you some coffee or tea, anything you want. I just don’t think you should go out on your own tonight.”
Noah smiled sadly at her. “I have to go on my own. This is one thing that I have to do myself, for Beckett and for everyone.”
“But—”
“Thank you,” Noah cut her off. “And I’m sorry.”
Blaise glanced back over her shoulder, deep worry creasing her face, but Noah ignored it and pushed on. Blaise didn’t really know him. If she did, she would understand what had to be done. They all would. Maybe they would be confused or upset at first, but that would fade in time, probably not much time at that, and everything would go on as it always should have.
No one else tried to stop him as he left the club and headed south. He was familiar enough with the geography of the city now to know where he needed to go. He’d been reading about and hearing stories of the modern marvel of the Brooklyn Bridge since arriving in New York, and he knew that was the way he needed to leave it.
ChapterEighteen
Beckett could hear the pounding of Noah’s heart in his ears. He could hear it like a distant drum, like a call to action that he was desperate to follow. He felt like he couldn’t move, though. Something was holding him back, trapping him in place. No matter how much he thrashed or fought, he couldn’t reach Noah. He couldn’t pull him close and tell him that everything would be alright, that there was nothing to be afraid of.
The banging of Noah’s heart continued, even after the nightmare started to lift and Beckett realized he wasn’t on the verge of some sort of battle. He was in bed, all was darkness around him, his legs tangled in the bedsheets. His heart raced, pounding against his ribs, but it wasn’t the only pounding.
Beckett realized two things at the same time. The first was that the sound he’d heard in his dream that he thought was Noah’s heart was, in fact, someone knocking loudly and repeatedly on his front door. The other was that Noah was gone.
With a gasp, Beckett reached across the bed beside him, feeling nothing but cool sheets. The fact that they were cold to the touch indicated Noah had been gone for a long time instead of a moment. Still, Beckett prayed that he’d just gotten up to answer the door, that he wasn’t gone entirely.
He leapt out of bed himself as the knocking continued, racing to the wardrobe to don his robe. As he did, he heard muffled voices from downstairs as someone answered the door. Again, he prayed it was Noah and not Gardener, but he knew Gardener’s voice, even when it was muffled.
Without bothering to find his slippers, Beckett raced into the hall and down the stairs.
“Noah?” he called out, searching up and down the hall, even though Gardener had indeed answered the door, and Graham, Marcus, and Blaise stood in his foyer. “Noah? Where are you?”
“He was at The Slope,” Marcus said, stepping forward to block Beckett’s path when he tried to cross to the parlor to see if Noah was in there, perhaps reading because he couldn’t sleep.