Noelle

Chapter 13

A month later I'm trudging up the muddy driveway to West's front door, and it's hard to believe this is the first time.

A slow rain falls around me. The sound is comforting, but the chill sends shivers through my body.

He must've been watching for me because he opens the door before I can knock, taking my hands and pulling me in from the cold. His body is warm; he wraps strong arms around me and I cling to the front of his shirt and rest my head against his chest. His breath is steady. My heart skips a beat.

"Hi, stranger," he mumbles, a deep laugh softening the darkness. I chuckle nervously in response, pulling away to look up at him. Why do I feel nervous?

I take my first look at his house.

It's him.

It smells like him; spice and warmth. His books are lined up on a shelf in the living room and I smile, it's cute. I step closer to get a better look at the titles. I don't recognize any of them. Some are in other languages.

He watches me now. The cabin is low lit with candles and they cast a soft glow across his face. Dark eyes regard me from across the room. My heart warms as I take him in, standing there across the room. I realize that he always looks so sure of himself. Never arrogant, but steady. I suddenly find myself wanting to run my fingers down his chest, softly, and-

Suddenly, through the soft patter of rain, my stomach lets out a monstrous grumble. I blush, but some of the tension has lifted. He cocks his head towards the kitchen. "I made something special for tonight."

We sit across from each other at the dark wood table. He's made my favorite – a dish I'm sure I've only mentioned once. Something pulls in my chest at this realization. He remembered.

This feels comfortable. I'm just past the stage of feeling awkward eating around him. I love this; the comfort and ease that comes with knowing someone deeper with time.

We take our time eating, pausing often to laugh at his stories. He tells me to leave the dishes but I insist on helping to clean everything up.

Taking my hand, he leads me down the short hallway to a room that I quickly realize is his bedroom, also candlelit. He hands me something from the dresser - a letter? I unfold it and realize that he's written me something. My heart beats faster as I read the things he's scribbled on these pages. Things I can't imagine hearing out loud.

I look up to find that he's already watching me intently. It's still raining outside, but harder now. I can hear it on the roof.

The candlelight flickers across his face; it sparkles across those dark eyes. Slowly, as if it's happening somewhere outside of my body, I lift my hands up to his shoulders. He places gentle hands on my waist. Firmly, but with care – like he could hurt me, but like that's the last thing he wants to do.

I watch him with wide eyes, unsure of what's happening but only knowing that I need this.

Then he's leaning down, and he's kissing me. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm on my tiptoes, my arms around his neck the only thing holding me up in this moment. Everything is melting away around us, and then I'm sinking backward, sitting on the edge of the bed. Soft sheets curl up around my bare legs. My dress bunches up around my thighs.

He leans down, not breaking eye contact, one arm on the mattress to hold himself up. My fingers sink into the sheets as I try to ground myself in some way. To find some solid footing when I feel like I'm floating away.

He kneels down in front of me and suddenly our faces are even again. His eyes are on fire. I can see the reflection in them - flickering from somewhere behind us.

"I will never hurt you," he says lowly, his expression heavy. "I promise."

My vision blurs. I'm suddenly overcome by a feeling I've only ever had with him. I'm not sure what it is yet, but it's safe, and warm. It's West.

He sits next to me, pulling me on top of him, my legs straddling his, chest to chest. I wrap my arms around his neck again, resting my head on his shoulder. He wraps his around me and holds me close. We sit in this embrace until a crack of lightning sends bright, flashing light throughout the room, pulling us from the silence.

I sit back just far enough to see his face. He looks down at my mouth, and then my eyes, rough but gentle fingers brushing across my jaw. "You're beautiful, flower. Akiíkisshe." Lover.

He leans forward to place a soft kiss on my lips, and then another on my forehead.

I don't know what to say but it doesn't seem to matter. The silence is comfortable.

And for once, everything is different, and everything is good.

***

I don't remember falling asleep but when I open my eyes a dim light is filtering in through the curtains. It's quiet – the rain must have stopped at some point during the night, and now the sun is beginning its ascent over the trees in the distance.

The blankets are pulled up over my body and I feel a gentle breath rustle my hair. I realize my head is resting on his chest; one arm wrapped loosely around my lower back. I feel calmer than I have in a long time.

I run a finger down his shirt and smile when he groans in his sleep, wrapping his arm tighter around my body. I savor the feeling. It feels safe and warm.

I can tell he's woken up when he lets out a low chuckle. I suddenly feel the weight of what this means: waking up in his bed, in his arms. My cheeks burn. It's hard to believe we're here after all this time. Together, embracing each other like this.

"Good morning, flower." His voice is rough from sleep. Deeper than usual. It sends a shiver through my body.

I lift my head to look at him with a shy smile. He cups my cheek with one hand, leaning in to kiss my lips. His eyes are warm as he gazes deeply into mine. He lets out another soft laugh. Quiet, like he's acknowledging a thought he's had.

"How did you sleep?" He asks.

My smile widens. "Better than I have in a long time."

This seems to please him. He pulls me in close again. "Me too, Elle."

We lay together for a while, his fingers drawing lazy shapes over my skin as he tells me stories, these ones more serious than the ones told over dinner. I lie quietly in his arms and listen.

Eventually he pauses. "Tell me something I don't know about you."

I hesitate. The question throws me off. The thing is, I enjoy telling stories. I like talking about my dreams and the things that matter the most to me. But I don't trust people with that information like I used to.

He brushes my hair back almost like he knows what I'm thinking. "It's ok."

A feeling rises in my chest. It could feel so freeing to finally tell someone. My fists squeeze his shirt tighter. "I'm looking for my dad." It's the first time I've said it out loud.

It's silent for a moment. I don't normally open up like this and I know he has questions, but his response is careful. "Tell me about him."

"I don't remember much. But I remember he was there. He took me places. I know he loved me." The last part comes out in a whisper.

He rests his hand on mine, holding it to his heart. "Let me know what I can do to help you."

I try to think of some way to thank him but nothing seems to convey how much it means that he cares so much about something he knows nothing about.

I look at him with teary eyes. "I-" the rest of the sentence is quickly torn from me as I realize what I was about to say. A sort of horror settles in my chest.

He looks back curiously, his eyebrows furrowed. "Yes?"

I rest my head back down on his chest and stare out the window. The sun is above the horizon now and shines brightly across my face. "Nothing."

I don't know where the words came from. But I send them back just as quickly as they appeared.