Page 27 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Noah

The glow of my laptop screen cast a harsh blue light across the dim hotel room; the only sound was the low hum of the heating vent and the rhythmic clacking against the keyboard.

Late May in Chicago was perfect, but here we were, stuck in the hotel, enjoying the city through the window overlooking Lake Michigan.

Milo sat across from me at the small hotel desk, a half-empty Red Bull in one hand, scrolling through code with the other.

His hoodie sleeves were pushed up, glasses slipping down his nose, brow furrowed in focus.

The final phase was brutal. Late nights, too much caffeine, and the pressure of making sure everything was perfect before the bigger market tests.

And usually, I thrived in this kind of work.

I could disappear into the logic of it, lose myself in the crisp precision of lines and sequences, let the rush of problem-solving drown out the rest of the world.

But tonight?

Tonight, I was distracted as hell.

I glanced at my phone, the screen glaring up at me from where it sat on the bed beside me. Still nothing.

I’d sent the first message when I got into my hotel room.

Noah: Hey. Can we talk?

No response.

Hours passed. I tried again.

Noah: Evan, please. Just… answer me .

Read. No reply.

I clenched my jaw and tapped against the edge of my laptop.

I deserved this. I knew I did. But knowing it didn’t make it easier to swallow.

I’d spent so long convincing myself that if I didn’t define what we were, I wouldn’t have to lose him. That as long as I kept everything contained, controlled, unnamed, it wouldn’t become something that could hurt me when it inevitably fell apart.

But I’d been wrong.

Because it was hurting now.

Across the desk, Milo yawned loudly and stretched his arms over his head, groaning. “Okay, I need real food before I start hallucinating. Let’s order something.”

I barely heard him.

My phone was still in my hand, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Then, before I could second-guess myself, I typed one more message.

Noah: Evan. Please don’t shut me out.

I watched the message deliver.

I watched the read receipt appear.

And then?

Nothing.

The silence stretched, tightening around my chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe.

Evan wasn’t ignoring me.

He was making a choice.

And this time?

He was choosing to leave me on read.

I swallowed hard, pressing my thumbs against my temples, trying to force my thoughts into something resembling focus.

Milo, still focused on his laptop, absentmindedly said, “Dude, is that the same message you’ve been staring at for like an hour?”

I tensed.

“Who even is that?” He took another big swig of his Red Bull, barely glancing at me. “Is it that guy? The one you were texting last trip?”

I didn’t respond.

Milo, taking my silence as an answer, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Look, man, I’m not trying to pry, but I’ve worked with you for years, and I’ve never seen you like this over someone.”

My grip tightened around my phone .

Milo continued, oblivious to the way my shoulders were stiffening. “I mean, what’s going on? Is he ghosting you? You two have a fight or someth…”

“Drop it, Milo.”

It came out colder than I intended. Too pointed.

Milo’s brows lifted, his expression shifting from curiosity to something more cautious. “Geez, man. Sorry.”

I closed my eyes, sighing hard. Fuck. The instant regret sat in my chest, heavy and unwelcome.

“I… I overreacted. That was… my bad.”

Milo watched me for a second, then shrugged. “It’s fine. Just… didn’t think I’d hit a nerve.”

I debated whether or not to just let it go.

But then the words slipped out before I could stop them.

“It’s complicated.”

Milo blinked. “Dude, that’s the understatement of the year.”

I let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking my head. “Yeah. Probably.”

Milo spun his chair slightly, eyeing me. “You wanna talk about it?”

I hesitated.

Then, because fuck it, because it was Milo, because who else was I going to talk to about this? I gave him just enough.

“I messed up,” I admitted. “I was with him before I left, and we…” I cleared my throat. “Things happened. And then we fought. And now? Now, he’s ignoring me.”

Milo made a face. “Oof! That sucks, man.”

I huffed out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. It does.”

Milo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You know, Amanda and I had a stretch like that. Before we got married. We’d be great one minute, and then I’d pull back, shut down. Scared the hell out of me how much I felt. Thought it was safer to screw it up first, on my terms.”

That caught me off guard. Milo didn’t usually get personal.

“What changed?” I asked, quieter now.

He smiled, small and knowing. “She called me out. Said she was done guessing where she stood. And I realized I’d rather figure out my shit than lose her.”

For a moment, I just sat there, the tension in my shoulders relaxing a little. Milo wasn’t just my coworker. He was my friend .

Milo picked up his phone, flipping through a delivery app. “You wanna wallow or eat? Or wallow and eat? Your call, man.”

I hesitated, but Milo didn’t wait for my answer.

He pushed his phone toward me. “Pick something. I’m getting a burger.”

I sighed, shaking my head as I took the phone and scrolled through the menu. “Fine. Get me whatever.”

Milo smiled. “Now that’s the Noah I know.”

I chuckled, handing him back the phone as he placed the order.

We worked in silence after that, the tension subsiding just enough, the weight in my chest still there, but more manageable.

And maybe, just maybe, for a little while… I could pretend that I wasn’t still waiting for a reply th at wasn’t coming.