Made To Be Broken

A Simple Plan

“So what if I want to kiss, From your toes up to your lips,

It don't mean that you have me yet,
Just 'cause I think of you in bed,
I'm the one who's in control here,

Let me make it clear - Don't let it go to your head.”

- Don't Let It Go To Your Head, JORDIN SPARKS

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By the time morning came, Noble had long since made the decision to turn down Mason's invitation to go and talk to Jonah in person. He couldn't face the man, not after making that call last night. And Jonah's message.

Noble grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee and sipped at it black. He leaned against the counter and stared blankly at the tiled floor. The cup warmed his palm and he raised it to his lips absently, swallowing another drink of the hot, bitter fluid.

Back in the bedroom, the cell phone rested quietly on the night stand, still containing the voice mail message that should have been erased last night – before he listened to it. But then certainly afterwards. Yet there it remained, tucked away among a myriad of old messages from Rebecca, Mason, even one or two from his parents. Cuddled in there as if it belonged.

Noble licked his lips as the cup hovered close to his mouth. Jonah's recorded voice played crisp and clear through his head, and had been since he'd listened to the man's message last night. He couldn't get his voice to quiet.

Maybe if you hadn't listened to the message multiple times over.

He licked his lips again then sipped some more coffee, gaze blank, brow tight. Maybe he could have fooled himself into believing the first time was by accident. But how many times could one accidentally type in their PIN and search out a specific message? And why had he been compelled to listen to it over and over? There was nothing special or meaningful in what the man said, just a quick – Hey, it's Jonah. Give me a call back if you want to talk. When he first listened, he'd caught himself trying to read something into Jonah's words. But in truth, it was a message he would've left anyone.

It hadn't been the message itself that had tempted Noble into replaying it over and again – but the sound of Jonah's voice. Having it caught in a recording allowed him to listen to the man without fear of others noticing his intent interest in just hearing his voice.

Breath rattled in his throat and escaped in a heavy, exhaustive sigh as he set the coffee cup on the counter with a solid clunk. His hands gripped the back of his neck, fingers lacing and squeezing.

Knock it off. You're not interested. It's just that...

What? What lie could he cook up this morning to sooth his nerves? Satisfy his guilty conscience?

“You're okay.” he chimed for the millionth time. “You're not going anywhere near the man. All this will pass. It will.” His fingers gouged the back of his neck as his eyes clamped tight. But even now, every time he closed his eyes, the fantasy from yesterday instantly started up like a film reel, replaying every second in excruciating detail.

You're not okay. Not even kind of.

He raised his head and rubbed his eyes, then released a slow, controlled breath. He wasn't going to see Jonah today. That was step one. Tomorrow would take care of itself. He would stay alert, avoid the man at any cost. And when he couldn't evade him, just make sure they were never alone together. It was a simple plan, like an exercise routine – as long as he followed it day by day, he would gain the results he was seeking.