Page 40 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Evan

The thing about heartbreak was that it didn’t always feel like an explosion. Sometimes, it was just quiet. No screaming. No slamming doors. No dramatic declarations of love lost. Just a conversation. A choice. And the slow, aching acceptance of what had to be.

The night we got back to Havenwood, we went straight to Noah’s apartment.

He hadn’t unpacked yet, his suitcase still sat by the door, his hoodie draped over the back of the couch, like a placeholder for a person who hadn’t quite arrived yet.

And maybe that was fitting. Maybe Noah had always been a little half-there, one foot in, one foot out, always keeping just enough distance to make sure he had an exit when he needed it.

When I stepped inside, he looked at me like he already knew. Like he’d been bracing for this exact moment since we left San Francisco.

“Evan…”

I shook my head. “Noah, don’t.”

His lips parted, but I didn’t give him the chance.

“This is the only way, Noah.”

His brows furrowed, eyes searching mine. “It doesn’t have to be. We can figure this out. I can come back more often, or you could…”

“No.” I interrupted, the edge in my tone surprising even me. “Don’ t make this harder.”

He stepped toward me, desperation behind the calm he was trying so hard to keep. “Please, just listen. Maybe I could split my time, or…”

“Noah.” My chest felt tight, like the words were choking me. “Don’t. I can’t do this. Not right now.”

His shoulders tensed, like he wanted to argue, like the words were on the tip of his tongue. But I didn’t let him speak. I couldn’t.

“This is the only way,” I said again, softer this time, even though it felt like it was breaking something in both of us.

And for a second, I thought maybe, just maybe, he would fight me. That he would say something, do something, that would make me stay.

Because, God, I wanted to stay. To make it work.

But instead, he just sighed.

And the worst part of all this? I couldn’t even be mad at him.

Noah earned this. Every success, every opportunity. He’d built something for himself out of pure grit and raw talent, poured everything he had into a career that had finally given him exactly what he deserved.

He deserved the job. The recognition. The future he had been working toward long before I ever came into the picture.

He had earned everything. And I wanted him to have everything. Everything except me.

Because love isn’t something you earn. It is something you choose.

And Noah wasn’t choosing me.

He didn’t ask me to stay. He didn’t try.

And that was the moment I knew. Knew that no matter how much I wanted him, no matter how much he wanted me, he would always choose safety. Always choose work. Always choose control.

And I deserved more than that.

So, I walked away.

Not in anger. Not in bitterness.

Just… finality.

The first few weeks were rough.

I had gotten used to Noah’s presence, his sarcasm, his dry humor, the way he showed up in my space without even realizing he belonged there. The way my apartment still smelled faintly like his tea, the way my couch cushions were indented where he always sat.

I made my choice. So, I moved on. Or, at least, I tried to.

I threw myself into work. I cut back my hours at The Rivermere Bistro and finally accepted an event-planning opportunity with Max at Havenwood’s community center.

It was something I had been eyeing for a while, a chance to do something I actually loved instead of just paying the bills with a job that was safe.

It was good. Rewarding. A reminder that I was capable, that I could build something for myself.

I started dating. I tried to at least. It wasn’t serious, not even close, but when Jordan from the Taproom asked me out, I said yes.

Because he was nice. And easy to be around.

Because I needed to move forward.

Because if I sat in my apartment for one more night staring at my phone, waiting for a text from Noah that wasn’t coming, I was going to lose my goddamn mind.

Jordan was a good distraction.

Our first date was typical, drinks at a wine bar, low conversation, no expectations. He was charming, casual, and effortless. The kind of guy who flirted just enough to make me feel wanted without making it complicated. I needed something uncomplicated.

We went on a second date, and then a third. He kissed me on the sidewalk outside my apartment, and I let him.

But the entire time, my brain kept betraying me. Noah wouldn’t have done this. Noah would have hesitated, overthought it, analyzed every inch of the moment before deciding what to do.

And fuck, I hated that I knew that. Hated that even when I was making the right choice for me, he was still there, lurking in the back of my mind, a ghost I couldn’t shake.

I didn’t tell anyone how hard it was. Not Callie, not Sam, not even Liam, who had an uncanny ability to read me like a damn book. But they knew. They had to.

Even as I kept up the act, kept showing up to group hangouts, kept working, kept dating, kept smiling, the absence of Noah Patel was there.

And the worst part? He never texted. Never reached out.

I guess I expected something. A moment of weakness. A check-in. A sign that I hadn’t imagined what we were.

But instead, there was nothing.

It didn’t take long for Noah to hear about Jordan. Of course it didn’t. Havenwood was small. Too small. Our circles overlapped whether we liked it or not. I was not intentionally keeping him from that knowledge, but I also wasn’t trying to rub it in his face.

I was at the community center, setting up for the weekend fundraiser Max had been planning for months.

It was a big one, raising money to revitalize the riverfront park.

He had to leave town last-minute for a family emergency but handed the reins to me with full confidence as his new hire, and a three-ring binder he called The Max Manual: Event Edition , complete with color-coded tabs, laminated checklists, and a section labeled ‘In Case of Chaos (There Will Be Chaos).’ It was terrifyingly thorough.

He also enlisted Renzo for the heavy lifting, tables, chairs, setup logistics, luring him in with coffee and the promise of post-event bourbon.

We were unstacking chairs, lining them up in rows, when he brought it up.

“So… Patel asked about you the other night.” He didn’t look at me when he said it.

Just kept fiddling with the legs on a folding table like he hadn’t just dropped a conversational grenade.

But it landed. Hard.

I froze mid-step. “What?”

Renzo shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“At the Taproom. It wasn’t direct or anything.

Just one of those half-assed inquiries. He was talking to Callie about some work thing, and your name came up.

He asked if you were seeing anyone, and Callie, well, you know Callie, just smiled and said, ‘I am sure you would like to know?’”

I forced out a small laugh despite the knot tightening in my stomach. “And what did he say to that?”

Renzo gave me a sideways glance. “Didn’t say anything. Just looked.”

That tracked.

A few days later, Liam mentioned something too.

We were grabbing coffee at Bright Horizons after my lunch shift when he said, “Noah said something interesting the other night.”

I raised a brow over my latte. “Which was?”

Liam took a sip of his drink, then sighed. “Your name came up. Someone, Ezra, maybe, asked if you were still working a million jobs, and someone else, I don’t remember who, mentioned you were dating Jordan now.”

I swallowed hard, trying to play it off. “And?”

“And Noah mumbled something like, ‘Oh, that’s happening now?’” Liam tilted his head. “It was pointed, Evan.”

A pang of something hot burned beneath my ribs. But I ignored it.

Because of course he had some silent, sulking reaction instead of actually saying something to me.

And then, Maxie confirmed it.

It was a slow night at the Taproom, just the usual group of us at the bar, nursing drinks and sharing stories. Maxie was leaning against the counter, carrying her signature martini, when she glanced over at me.

“You know he knows, right?” she said, lazily swirling her drink.

I blinked. “Huh?”

Maxie arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “About your new arm candy, sugar.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know. It’s not…”

“Oh, honey.” Maxie let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No need to explain yourself to me. I just thought you should know that he knows.”

I looked down at my drink.

And yet? Nothing from Noah. No text. No call. No sarcastic comment sent my way. He was doing exactly what I knew he would. Exactly what he always did. Pulling away. Choosing distance. And I let him. Because I wasn’t going to wait for something that was never going to happen.

I made my choice.

And now, three months since our trip to San Francisco, and the ending that happened when we got back to Havenwood, I had to live with it.

I let out a low groan, twisting the glass between my palms. “I just don’t get why everyone keeps telling me what Noah knows. Like… we’re not a thing anymore. It’s not any of my business.”

Maxie gave me a long look, one of those disarming, see-through-your-soul looks she pretended was effortless but probably took years of practice.

“But do YOU know that?” she asked, voice soft in a way that caught me off guard.

I didn’t answer right away .

“You left him, Evan.” Her tone didn’t have an ounce of judgment in it, just truth. “You don’t get to decide what he should or shouldn’t be doing now. You don’t get to write his side of the story just because it hurts that he’s not chasing you.”

“That’s not what I…” I started, but she held up a hand.

“I know you’re not trying to,” she said, gently. “But still, it is what you’re doing.”

I stared down at my drink again, throat tight.

Maxie reached across the bar and laid a perfectly manicured hand on mine.

“People care, babe. That’s why they tell you.

They care about you. They care about Noah.

And yeah, sure, the queers do love some drama, but mostly?

” She smiled, eyes soft. “We love you . And we love him . And we want you both to be okay.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I just stared at her.

“Let people love you, Evan,” she added, softer now. “Especially when it’s messy.”

I nodded slowly because I knew she was right. Even if I still didn’t know what the hell to do with that truth.

Maxie watched me for another beat, then asked gently, “You okay, sugar? Need anything?”

I shook my head, managing a small smile. “No. I’m good. Just needed someone to remind me I had a hand in this too. And that I need to move on.”

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek, her perfume curling around me like a hug. “You get to feel all that you are feeling. You’re just human. You’re going to be ok, love.” Then, with a swish of her scarf and a final wink, she disappeared into the Taproom leaving me with whatever this was.