Page 199 of Becoming Us

“Whenever you want, Noah.”

Please.

“That’s good to hear.” I swallowed down my emotions with practiced ease. “Very good to hear.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

AFTER

Inever thought flying back to LA would feel like coming home.

The last time I moved back—after being in New York for so long—I was terrified. I’d been excited to see Atty again, but I also knew I’d have to face what I’d done to him. Seeing the absolute hatred in his eyes had been worse than waking up in a hospital bed not knowing if I’d live.

But this time, walking off the plane with Atty’s hand in mine, it was hard to imagine a place that felt more like home.

Classes were starting next week, and I had to make some big decisions. First, whether I was going to keep training with the team or dedicate that time to the band. Atty and I had one full year of college together, and the idea of spending it with my boyfriend—having anormalyear—was exhilarating. I’d been craving normal for what felt like most of my life.

Still, I wanted to chase this new dream too. One I’d never even considered before.

We had a big show on Friday, and I’d let that be the deciding factor. If it felt right—if it lit something up inside me—then maybe this was it. Maybe it wasn’t just another rush I was chasing. Because, unfortunately, that question was always going to linger at the back of my mind. I needed to figure out if I was riding the high of something new that would eventually burn out—or if this was real. If it actually made me happy.

The way Atty did.

Thursday morning, I was with Holly, helping her out at her internship and hoping to get some solid life advice.

I stood on a stool as she fixed the hem of my pants—well, her pants. The ones she’d designed and was now stitching together with surgeon-level precision. “Impressive” didn’t even begin to cut it.

“How are things with Mommy Dearest? Since the shift?” Her pink neon glasses were perched on her nose, a small crease of concentration between her brows.

“Better, actually. Or at least as far I can tell. She’s been talking to Lan these past few days—just texted me a couple of awkward-as-fuck pictures from dinner, and that was it. It’s been nice not having to avoid her.”

“That’s great, Noh. You need the break. Just make sure you set up Lan with Samuel and you’ll be golden,” she replied, still focused on the hem.

I chuckled. “Definitely a good idea.”

“How about Mr. Husband Material? Everything okay there too?” I’d already filled her in on what had happened at dinner and the conversation that followed.

“He’s perfect, as always.”

“Then why the frowny face?” She didn’t even look up. I swear she had a sixth sense.

“Nothing bad,” I said. “Just…thinking a lot about the future.” She paused and stared at me, waiting. “The team. The band.” I waved a hand like that explained everything.

“So basically, everything is working out, and you need to learn how to balance good things instead of bad ones?”

“Basically,” I said with a laugh.

“Well, my sweet boy, that sounds like a good problem to me, and I think that merits a hallelujah, don’t you?”

I laughed again, watching her press her lips together to suppress her grin.

“You don’t know how happy that makes me,” she added softly.

“Don’t make me cry,” I warned. “It’s all I’ve been doing for fucking ever, and I’m done walking around with a puffy face.”

“Noh, I’ve earned the right to make you do whatever.” She eyed the pants deliberatively. “Case in point—the forced modeling. So if I want to get sentimental about you being happy, you’ll fucking suck it up and cry.”