Page 99 of One Killer Night

I hold out his phone, something in my mind making me not finish the rest of my sentence. He grins and takes it. He’s bubbling with excitement over the gift, which he lifts for me to see again.

My smile is weak as my other hand softly touches the bottom of his jacket pocket, cupping my hand around it, like a dare to prove myself wrong. But the fabric doesn’t wrinkle under my touch because it’s heavy, like it’s filled with something bulky.

“Do you want your wallet too?” I say softly, motioning with my head down to his jacket.

“No. Leave it there.” He grins.

He lied.

Noah puts his hand back out for me to take, his face lit with exuberant happiness. “Tell me about the call later. I want you to open your gift first. I can’t wait.”

He looks over his shoulder motioning to Chase as I blink slowly. My chest feels shaky, and I can hear my own breath.He lied.

I don’t understand ... I don’t. Why would he lie? This doesn’t make sense. I want to say more, ask more, but my fingers slide into his palm anyway because this is ludicrous. He’s Noah ...

Maybe he found his wallet; maybe he just didn’t want the hassle. Why am I questioning him?

You know him, Goldie, better than anyone.

But the moment we touch, everything slows and we’re in that familiar bubble of him and me, and that’s when the truth barrages me.

I laugh as I’m spun around into the shadows of a convenient alley, my back gently pressed to the wall as he lifts a hand against it, trapping me between him and the brick.

The way he’s looking down at me makes butterflies explode.

“Boyfriend, huh? You sure? ... Because I am.”

“Me too.”

“Then I guess I should come clean. I’m an upstanding citizen originally from Hempstead—”

The memories are vivid, making each step I take feel heavier than the first because they’re hitting like waves. But that’s the thing about hindsight—it’s twenty-twenty, and that’s pretty fucking clear.

“One more question. Where’s your boyfriend from?”

“Hempstead,” I snap. “It’s in New Hampshire, in case you’re unfamiliar.”

“It was the weirdest thing. We couldn’t find a Noah Adler from Hempstead.”

The lights grow brighter as we rejoin the party, and he walks me past the tables in the middle of the grass, but my mind is fragmented. I’m confused and scared.

I don’t understand what my mind is telling me, but it feels like the moment before a car crash—you can see the destruction coming, but you’re powerless to stop it.

He looks at me, those sapphire eyes connecting to mine. The ones that belong to the man I love. But who is that man ... Is he Noah?

Like a cruel answer, the full memory from before takes hold like a hand around my throat.

“Hey, man ... hey—I know you. How’ve you been?”

I look over my shoulder to see that some guy in a Mets hat is smiling at Noah.

Noah’s brows draw together in seeming confusion before he has an easy smile. “Sorry, man, we’ve never met. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

The man shakes his head, slightly slurring when he speaks but insistent.

“No, it’s me, Peter ... Ronnie’s cousin. You’re, umm ...” He snaps his fingers. “Davis, right?”

I press my face against Noah’s shoulder, smiling because this guy is so drunk.