Page 154 of Becoming Us

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair.

But he wasn’t letting go. He wasn’t backing away. If anything, he held me tighter. Clung to me too. Sitting with me while my chest kept heaving, again and again, swallowed whole by heartbreak.

Why isn’t he leaving?

That thought more than anything, split me open further. I’d held on for so long, I didn’t even know how to stop. But he wasstill there. Not moving. Not leaving. And something in me finally gave up the fight.

His voice trembled just a little through his steady reassurance, but his grip never faltered. Not once.

It let me curl into his arms and cry.

And cry.

And cry.

Like a fucking kid, bleeding out everything he was never allowed to say. And Atty took it. Every bit of it. And I trusted him to hold me through it.

He’s staying. He’s not going to leave me.

I cried until there was nothing left. Until the sobs faded to shudders and my chest stopped aching from the force of them.

But this time, I wasn’t empty.

I was warm.

I was safe, wrapped in him.

And for the first time in my life, as the world crumbled around me?—

I wasn’t alone.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

BEFORE

It was one of those badly lit places—white walls, plastic flowers. It looked nice from afar, but if you stared too long, the cracks started to show.

I guess that was fitting.

“Noah Rossi?” The receptionist’s eyes stayed fixed on her phone. She didn’t even glance up to check if I’d stood. A sad little Christmas tree slouched on her desk, making the whole thing feel a thousand times more depressing.

“Hey, that’s me,” I said after she failed to acknowledge me.

Her gaze finally lifted, but it felt like she was looking through me, not at me. “The doctor will see you now. First door on your right.”

I wiped my hands on my pants and stepped in that direction. My chest felt heavy—nothing new there. That familiar weight had settled in and made itself at home. At night, it gnawed at me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt rested.

Something had to give.

I’d handled everything with my mother—maybe a month ago? Everything was squared away. Financially, at least. Emotionally…not so much.

The guilt from our fight had eaten through me. After a million texts accusing me of abandoning her, I caved. Plus, the holidays were coming. We weren’t supposed to be alone during the holidays. We started talking again—but only when necessary. The lawyers explained why she couldn’t sue her own son, and once the allowance kicked in and her new apartment remained untouched, she calmed down.

A little.

Somehow, that didn’t help. Not in my head. If anything, each day got worse.