Page 42 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Noah

I’ve spent my entire life running. From things that scared me. From things that felt too big, too real. I’ve convinced myself that control is the only thing that keeps me safe. That if I can compartmentalize everything, work, life, relationships, I can avoid the inevitable collapse. The heartbreak.

The last time I let myself love someone, really love them, they left. And it nearly destroyed me. I swore I would never let that happen again. And yet, here I am. Collapsed. Heartbroken. And it is entirely my own damn fault.

Evan moved on. And I let him.

I watched him do it, stand on the sidelines like some kind of fucking bystander while the best thing in my life slipped through my fingers. I let the space between us stretch into something insurmountable, all because I am too afraid to let myself love him the way he deserves to be loved.

And I did love him. I loved Evan Mitchell.

And I let him go. Because I am a fucking coward. Because I tell myself it is better this way.

But is it?

Is it better to come home to an empty apartment every night? Is it better to stare at my phone, wondering what he is doing? If he is thinking about me? If he has stopped hurting yet?

Is it better to pretend I didn’t still feel him everywhere?

Because I do.

I feel him in the quiet, in the spaces he used to fill. I feel him in the coffee shop where he used to insist on getting the most obnoxious seasonal drinks. I feel him in the back booth at the Taproom, where his laughter once tangled with mine over too many drinks and too little sense.

I feel him in my bed, in the cold, empty space beside me.

And I am not the only one who saw it.

Liam straight-up told me, “You’re miserable, dude.” He said it over drinks one night, exasperated and just drunk enough to get blunt about it. “I swear to God, I wish I could personally lock you and Evan in a room together until one of you admits you’re in love with the other.”

Elliott had been gentler, but no less direct. “Noah, you’re not the first person to let fear fuck up something good. But you’re also not the first person who can fix it.”

And then there was Maxie. Fucking Maxie.

She looked at me like she was peering into my soul, arched a single brow, and said, “Sugar, I warned you. And now look at you. Pitiful.”

She wasn’t wrong.

I keep hearing their voices in my head. At the Bistro, Elliott said, “I’m just an observer of the train wreck that is your love life.

” Fuck! Giorgio when he met Evan, “My favorite quiet customer. You never bring a friend!” Shit!

And Maxie imparting her blunt wisdom, “Shit or get off the pot.” Damnit! What the fuck is wrong with me?

I let my fear dictate my choices. I let it win. And for what? So I could sit alone in my apartment, telling myself this is better? That Evan is better off without me?

That is bullshit.

Because the truth is, I want him. I want every messy, chaotic, stubborn, warm-hearted piece of him.

I want the way he challenges me. I want the way he fills a room, the way he brings people together without even trying. I want his sleepy grumbles in the morning, his ridiculous devotion to his Grey’s Anatomy theories, the way he can make me smile just by walking into it.

I want the way he looks at me.

I want him.

And I am done running.

I am done being too scared to fight for what I want.

For who I want.

I am going to fix this .

I have to fix this.

So, I grabbed my keys, shoved my feet into my sneakers, and walked out the door.

I showed up unannounced.

The Rivermere Bistro was packed. And Evan was everywhere at once. Moving between tables, smiling at guests, balancing trays of wine and dinner plates like it was second nature.

He didn’t see me at first. Which meant I had to make sure he did.

I stepped forward, weaving through the crowded restaurant, my heart hammered against my ribs. And when he turned from one of his tables, I reached out without thinking, my grip curled around his wrist.

Fuck! Instant mistake.

Evan froze. His entire body went stiff, the warmth on his face vanishing in an instant. His hazel eyes snapped to mine, startled, then confused, then furious.

I dropped his wrist like it had burned me.

Before I could say a word, a stern voice cut through the hum of the dining room.

“Is there a problem here?”

I turned, heart still racing, to find a man standing just a few feet away. His manager, I realized. He was already sizing me up, gaze bouncing between Evan’s stiff shoulders and my presence that did not belong here.

Evan took a breath, slow and controlled, before shaking his head. His voice, when he spoke, was clipped and professional. “No. We’re fine.”

Fine.

Yeah. Sure.

I opened my mouth to apologize, to explain, to say something that didn’t make me sound like the asshole who just stormed into his job and grabbed him like I had any right to touch him. But Evan was already turning back to me.

His eyes burned into mine, his voice low and clipped.

“Noah,” he said, tone laced with warning. “What are you doing?”

Shame crashed over me in waves.

“I…” I cleared my th roat, stepped back.

Through clenched teeth and tears welling up in his eyes he said, “Get the fuck out of here.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Thank you.” He cut me off. There was fire in his eyes. He escorted me to the door then looked right into my eyes and said, “Now get the fuck out of here.”

I nodded. I deserved that. I deserved worse.

I turned to leave, but before I could take two steps, Evan spoke again, voice low enough that only I could hear.

“I’ll text you when I get off.”

Relief and anxiety slammed into me in equal measure, but I didn’t look back.

I walked out the door knowing I just made things worse but also knowing I may have a chance to make them right.

I walked through the Rivermere District, past streetlamps shining on wet pavement, past couples huddled under café awnings, past kids laughing as they ran ahead of their parents. Life moved on around me. And I felt like a ghost in my own town.

Havenwood had always been a place I existed in, not a place I lived. Not until Evan.

And now? Now, I was walking through it like I didn’t belong here anymore.

I shoved my hands in my pockets, my breath fogging in the cool night as I passed the Green Bean Café. The Bistro buzzed a few blocks behind me. I could’ve stopped at The Rainbow Taproom, could’ve pretended to be social, but the thought of seeing my friends, who all knew, made me feel sick.

So, I kept walking.

The familiar streets blurred together until I reached the edge of town, where the river curved around the rocks.

The water has always been Evan’s thing. His anchor. His peace.

But as I stood there, staring out at the current, I started to understand.

I made my way down the worn dirt path, the cool earth shifting beneath my boots. At the bank, I found a smooth, flat rock and sank onto it. The river flowed beside me, steady and unbothered.

Evan loved water. He was drawn to it.

The rafting trip, where he laughed, really laughed as the rapids sent us careening down the river, completely unafraid, completely alive.

The hike to the creek, where he kicked off his shoes, rolled up his jeans, and waded straight into the freezing water without hesitation, like it had been calling to him.

The rain in Seattle, where he tilted his face up to the sky as water dripped from his eyelashes, tugging me along with him as he refused to let a storm keep us from living.

The bay in San Francisco, where he leaned against the railing of the Golden Gate Bridge, watching the water stretch out endlessly before him, something soft and longing in his eyes.

I stared at the river now, at the slow-moving current, and it hit me all at once.

Evan is my water.

The thing that steadies me. The thing that pulls me back to myself when I am too caught up in my own head. The thing that helps me feel something beyond deadlines and control and the constant ache of wanting more but never letting myself have it.

And I let him slip away.

I stood there for a long moment, drawing in a steady breath as I stared out at the water. I dragged my fingers through my beard, restless. The river doesn’t care about my problems. It just is. Moving forward, constantly, endlessly.

Evan is moving forward.

And if I don’t do something, he is going to keep moving, and I am going to lose him forever.

I swallowed hard, staring out at the water.

I have spent my whole life running.

Maybe it is time to stand still.

I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there.

The river rumbled softly beside me, steady and endless in the cool mid-October night. I hadn’t noticed when the last car passed, or the final laughter faded from the Rivermere District. I didn’t even feel the cold creeping through my hoodie, the river’s damp chill sinking into my bones.

For the first time in a long time, my mind wasn’t racing.

No endless thoughts about work. No calculations, no second-guessing, no running through scenarios I couldn’t control.

Just the steady meditative pulse of the water moving downstream, the feel of rough stone beneath my hands, the weight of everything I lost pressing into my ribs.

I am here.

Present.

Feeling everything all at once.

The sudden vibration in my pocket startled me, shattering the fragile stillness. I blinked, as if coming out of a trance, my hand fumbled to pull out my phone. The screen glowed in the darkness.

Evan Mitchell : Off work.

I swallowed hard, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I could hear him saying it in my head, short, to the point, no warmth, no room for interpretation.

A pause. Then another text.

Evan Mitchell : Do we need to meet, or is this a phone call thing?

I paused before responding.

He is giving me an out. I could take the easy way, say what I need to say over the phone, keep this at a safe distance, protect myself from whatever expression would be on his face when I said the words out loud.

But I am done running.