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Anger flared at the accusation, but I checked it. Noah didn’t say things without a reason, so I waited.

“You’re not the only one who has trauma.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. We all do.”

“And so does Lena.”

My entire body went still. I knew that. It was the whole reason she’d called me—the similarity to the night she was taken. So why didn’t I equate it to the same things I held?

“It’s not the same,” Noah said. “But if you don’t think she can understand what you’re going through with the nightmares and everything else, you’re not giving her nearly enough credit.”

“She’s seemed entirely okay.” My voice rasped around the weak excuse.

Noah snorted, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Right. Because looks on the surface are a totally accurate picture of how someone is dealing with trauma privately.”

There was nothing I could say to that.

“As for the other thing, I don’t see a problem.”

“You don’t?”

Noah shrugged. “No. If it’s something you need, and you and she are meant to be together, then talk to her about it. Ask her, and don’t assume she’s not interested. What you shouldn’t do is look straight ahead and decide everything yourself. Which is what I think you’ve been doing, and for longer than we should have let you. You can’t carry everything alone, Jude. Even if you feel you need to.”

The air in the gym went taut. He was talking about Isaac. I’d shouldered a lot of the blame for his death, because I felt like I had to. I still did, even if I was rational enough to recognize I’d been in no state to help him when I was rescued.

But when he came back—

“Have you heard from Ellen?” Noah asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“No. I doubt I’m a person she really wants to see right now.”

Noah shrugged. “Five years. It’s a big thing. Maybe we should reach out and see how she’s doing?”

I managed to keep the instinctual cringe off my face. Even if Isaac’s death wasn’t my fault—and it still felt like it was—surely I was just a reminder of everything she’d lost. I didn’t know if she would want to see me and be reminded of it. The last thing I wanted was to cause her more pain.

Noah took another swig of water and clapped me on the shoulder. “Do me a favor? Think about everything we’ve talked about. Not because you think it’s going to make me or Dr. Rayne happy. But because it feels like you’ve traced a path through your own guilt and grief, and it’s the only place you’re allowing yourself to walk.”

I raised my eyes at the metaphor, and he chuckled.

“Seriously. Just try. Take off for a few days if you need to, go to the lake property and camp for a bit. Get the silence you crave and think about it. Because you’re carrying more than your fair share of too many things. And finally, I think the cracks are showing.”

“Finally?”

“At risk of another metaphor,” he said with a grin. “If you don’t build a foundation properly, a house collapses in on itself. Take a look at yours. I think there are some holes you may have put there yourself.”

I huffed a laugh, and he raised his water bottle in a mock toast.

I had to ask. “She’s changed you that much so quickly?”

Noah considered. “I don’t think Kate has changed me at all. But she brought out parts of me I’ve been ignoring. And showed me there’s more than letting it own you. She’s now seen me at my worst.”

He was referring to himself being unintentionally triggered at our recent family dinner. And the fact that he’d had to resort to violence to protect Kate, though he hadn’t wanted to.

“Not only at my worst, but at my most vulnerable and darkest. She didn’t push me away—she pulled me closer. And…” He sighed. “It’s helped more than I know how to describe.”

“So, you’re in love with her?”

He smiled. “It’s probably too fast to say that. Anyway, I have to go. Got an appointment with Dr. Rayne, and I need to shower. And then Kate’s at the house.”