Page 28

twenty-six

'No Chips on my Shoulder' Blue

Noah

I spent most of the next week in my room, reading and learning how to live off-grid. Silas bought me a journal when he went out for clothes and supplies, and I've been taking notes, deciding what I want to plant once the ground thaws. I could even build a small greenhouse and get some chickens if Silas would help me.

I'm still avoiding Tate when I can. It isn't easy; we live together and eat together at almost every meal, but it is necessary.

Both breakfast and dinner are served at the big house every day. I was assigned the dinner shift, which is the busiest one, but it isn't much different from working at a restaurant, and the people who live here are always kind and grateful. And if I'm being honest, it feels nice to have a place to go and a purpose.

Still, I mostly stay quiet. I don't quite trust them, and a part of me is still afraid to get comfortable. I haven't been comfortable in a really long time .

"Do you need anything else before I leave?" I ask Veronica after I finish drying and stacking the dishes.

"No, that's it, sweetheart," she says. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sweetheart. That's what Jodie used to call me.

I nod, and then put on my coat, gloves, and scarf, and walk home in the dark alone. The first few times, it made me uncomfortable. I asked Silas to stick around after dinner to walk with me, but that meant Tate waited for me, too.

And then Wendy noticed and informed me that the punishment for violence against another member of the community was death, that all the men on the property were well aware of it, and there have been zero incidents. I don't feel afraid anymore.

I stomp the snow from my boots on the front porch and then slip them off before stepping inside and setting them beside the door. The house is dark, quiet, and warm, just like I like it. I take off the rest of my winter gear and fill the teakettle with water.

Tea before bed while I read in the lantern light has become a routine for me, and it's a better one than trying to get drunk enough to choke down a burger. That's gotten easier, too. I think there's something about cleaning the meat from the bone that bridged a gap in my mind I never would have thought I wanted filled in.

But it is true. We're all just meat.

Before I can turn the burner on, Silas walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

"Hey, baby," he says, pressing his lips to my neck. "I missed you. "

He licks and sucks on my throat, and I wrap my hand around the back of his head, laughing a little when his beard tickles my neck.

"Do you want me to shave it now?" he asks. "My face would be cold, but—"

"No," I tell him. "I love it."

One hand grips my tit through my shirt and the other slips inside my underwear, quickly finding my clit. I lean into him and moan.

"Where's Tate?" I whisper.

"He's not here," he says. "Ryder shot a bear. He's helping him out; he'll probably be gone for a while."

Thank fuck.

I quickly turn to face him, opening the front of his pants and taking his hard dick in my hand, pumping it in my fist while he brings his lips to mine. He buries a moan against my mouth and rips my pants down over my hips.

I kick them off as they fall to the floor and Silas lifts me from the ground, laying me down on my back on the small kitchen table, gripping the back of my thighs and spreading me wide before he thrusts inside me.

"Ahh!" I cry out.

He slams his hips into me, taking me hard and fast. The entire table rocks and moves across the room, and he groans in frustration before moving his hands to my shoulders to pin me in place.

"That's better," he says, satisfied with the lack of give as he thrusts inside me. I take every inch of him, clutching the edge of the circular table in my hands, the sound of skin against skin and my own cries every time he buries himself inside me reverberating off the cabin walls.

"God, you're so wet, Noah," he rasps. "You really needed to get fucked, didn't you?"

"Yes…" I whimper. "Oh, god, don't stop."

"All you've gotta do is ask for it, baby; you know that."

"Harder…hurt me. Please."

He pulls me further down on the table before pinning me in place again, thrusting into me hard enough that I'm pretty sure the goddamn table is going to snap in half, but I don't give a fuck. My pussy throbs around his dick, and he moves one hand onto my throat and squeezes.

"Oh, fu—" I start before my airway is cut off.

The hand on my throat takes over the role of pinning me in place while he slides his cock in and out of me. The other pushes my shirt up to my neck before squeezing my tit, his thumb running over my nipple before pinching it hard.

It sends me over the edge.

My back arches off the table, and I come hard, legs shaking and eyes rolling back in my head as he continues his deliciously brutal assault on my pussy.

"That's it, baby," he says. He moves that hand gripping my throat to my hair, jerking it tightly in his fist while I gasp for air. "Doesn't that feel good? I know what you need, don't I?"

"Yes…" I moan.

"I'm going to fill you so full of cum..."

"Silas…I don't…oh, fuck …I don't think you should come in me."

"Fuck that. I'm not pulling out, Noah. That's one thing you don't get to ask me to do."

"But—"

"No. You're mine. When we fuck, I'm coming in you. Say you understand, baby."

"Silas…"

"Say it…"

"I understand."

Silas goes stiff, his hips shifting, trying to force his cock in further, deeper, as he fills me with cum, just like he promised.

"I love you, Noah," he says, breathless.

He pulls out of me, watching his cum drip from my pussy before he pushes my knees together. He holds them like that, staring down at me, and then takes his fingers and seemingly uses them to push his cum back inside me.

"I love you," I tell him. "But, Silas—"

"I'll make your tea for you," he says, cutting me off. "Do you want some tea?"

"Yeah," I say softly. "Yeah, I'm just going to get dressed."

I gather my discarded clothing and put it in my laundry basket before cleaning myself up in the bathroom. Then I put on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt; our cabin is warm enough, but it can get pretty cool at night, and I still need to sleep in heavy clothing.

Just as I finish dressing, Silas steps into the room, a book in one hand and my tea in the other.

"This is what you like to do at night, right?" he asks, lying in my bed. "You like to lie in bed with your lantern, drink tea, and read. "

"Pretty much," I say. I set the lantern in the middle of the bed, grab my book from the side table, and lie down beside him. "I like doing you, too, though."

"I like that, too." He laughs a little, then lifts my chin and kisses me lightly. "Noah?"

"Yeah?"

"You need to make up with Tate."

I shake my head. "I don't want to."

"He's trying so hard, Noah. He's really sad; he misses you so much. He spends all day trying to make you laugh."

I've noticed. But the truth is that just makes it better for me. I'm glad it hurts him. "Everyone has a breaking point. Mine should have been that time he tried to kill me, but here we are."

"You love each other. You can't stay mad at him forever."

"I can try. I learned from the best, after all."

"There's nothing to be scared of anymore."

Before I can tell him something along the lines of, I know there's nothing to be afraid of, because I'm not going to give him the chance to hurt me again , the front door opens and closes.

Great.

I sigh with dread as his footsteps cross the cabin toward my bedroom, stopping in the doorway. He still has his boots on, as usual, and I clench my jaw as I watch snow fall from them and melt onto the floor.

"Hey," he says. "What's up?"

Silas shrugs. "Not much. How was the bear?"

"Big as fuck," he says. "Hi, Noah."

"You're getting shit all over the floor again. You need to take off your boots at the door. I'm tired of cleaning it up. "

"I'm sorry," he says sadly. "I'll clean it up. You don't have to do that."

He runs his hands through his hair and sighs before leaving the room.

"Noah…"

"What? Don't act like messes don't drive you fucking crazy, too, because I know they do."

"He's sad , Noah. When you threw out the flowers he gave you the other day, he fucking cried."

"All Tate does is make me cry." I turn off my lantern, return it to the side table, and pull the covers over my body. "I don't feel like reading anymore—I'm going to bed. Please close the door when you leave."

"You want me to leave?"

"I don't want him to come in again so, yes."

Silas sighs. "Okay, Noah. But you're hurting my feelings now, too."

"I'm sorry," I tell him before he closes the door. "I don't mean to."

"I know."

Silas pulls the door closed, and I quietly cry into my pillow, waiting for sleep.

After spending most of the night lying awake in the dark, I sleep in the next morning. Silas tried to wake me up for breakfast, but I told him I was too tired, and then went back to sleep for another hour before getting in the shower.

I wring out my hair, wrapping myself in a towel before walking to the kitchen to heat some water for coffee.

"Hey," Tate says.

"Jesus…" I clutch my towel to my chest. "You scared me. What are you doing here? Aren't you and Silas supposed to be hunting?"

"I got the day off because I helped with the bear last night," he says. "You missed breakfast."

"Yeah, I know that."

"Well, I brought you back some pancakes."

I ignore him and grab the kettle.

"I already made you coffee. It's on the table."

I set the kettle down and turn around. Tate stands behind me with his arms crossed in front of him, and sure enough, the French press is on the table, full of fresh coffee, right next to a plate of pancakes. Dumping it and making another would be too aggressive, so I grab a cup from the cabinet and fill it.

"Um…thanks, Tate. I'm just going to go get dressed now."

"I can help you with that, too, if you want. "

"No, thanks."

"Noah, stop." He steps in front of me before I can pass, and I quickly look away before he can make eye contact.

"What?"

His hand closes around my coffee cup, and he takes it from me. "Set this down first," he says, placing it on the table. "Now, tell me what to do."

"What do you mean? I don't need anything from you."

"Tell me what to do to make it better. I love you, Noah. I miss you so much, and I hate it. If you just tell me what to do to fix it, I will. I promise I'll be good to you."

Tate takes a step toward me, and I take a step backward.

"You're a liar."

"Yes, I am. But I'm not lying to you right now."

He takes another step forward, and this time, when I try to move away from him, my back hits the wall.

I swallow hard, pulling the small towel wrapped around my body tighter. "I just need some time," I tell him, hoping he'll back off. "I need space."

"No," he says. "No more time. We've wasted enough time. And look around—there's no space."

I shake my head. "I can't—"

He cuts me off with his mouth on mine, his tongue pushing past my lips while his hands find my hips, and he closes the space between our bodies. Tate moans, digging his fingers into my skin while grinding the hard ridge of his dick through his sweatpants against my bare pussy, causing me to gasp.

"Tate… "

"It's okay," he whispers against my lips as he hitches one of my legs around his waist. "I promise, Noah. I'll be good this time."

He dives back into my mouth, pulling my top lip through his teeth as I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, tighter, while I rock my hips, rubbing my clit against his hardness.

"I want you so bad, Noah," he says. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

I reply with a whimper, and he spreads my legs wider, increasing the pressure against my clit. I grip his shoulders tighter, rolling my hips in circles against his cock.

"Tate…"

Fuck me. I'm about to come from grinding on him, and he knows it, too, because he smiles against my lips and picks up the pace. My spine grates painfully against the exposed wood beam behind me, and I gasp, arching my back.

It only makes it better. My toes curl, my fingernails dig into his skin, and he groans.

"See what you do to me?" he rasps. "See how fucking hard you make me? Go ahead, baby. Rub your wet pussy on my dick until you come."

"Fuck!" I scream as my clit pulses against his dick. "God fucking damn it, Tate. Fuck!"

"Let me fuck you," he whispers, tugging at my earlobe with his teeth while he grinds against my throbbing pussy. "I know you want it. I'll make you feel so good."

I'm still riding out the orgasm, still weak-kneed and weak-willed, and so I reach my fingers inside the waistband of his pants, but freeze when I hear a key turn in the lock.

I quickly shove Tate off of me, breathlessly clinging to my towel.

"Hey," Silas says when he steps inside. "What's…going on?"

"Nothing," I say far too quickly.

But I'm flushed and out of breath, and Tate is rock hard, his dick straining against his grey sweats with a big fucking wet spot on the front of them. It's pretty obvious what's going on.

I grab my coffee and dart toward my bedroom.

"Nice. Run away, Noah. It's what you do best."

I don't breathe until I close the door behind me. I dress and sit on my bed, drinking my coffee and staring at the wall, wondering how the fuck I let my guard down enough for Tate to dry hump me into an orgasm in the kitchen.

I listen to them speak in hushed voices for a while before the shower turns on, and then I grab my book and journal from the nightstand and start reading.

I stay in my room until I have to leave for the dinner shift, eating alone as soon as I get the chance and well before Tate and Silas get there. Once they do, I tell Silas I already ate since I skipped breakfast and easily fall back into my habit of pretending Tate doesn't exist.

"Do you want us to wait for you?" Silas asks when they bring their plates to the kitchen.

"No," I tell him. "I like walking alone."

Silas frowns. I know that isn't the answer he wanted; I know he wants me to make up with Tate, but I can't do it.

"You can't avoid me forever, Noah," Tate says. "We live together."

"Against your will," I say.

"You came all over my pants against your will this morning," he replies.

I shake my head. "Whatever, Tate."

"We'll see you at home," Silas says, taking Tate's hand and leading him toward the front door.

I sigh and get back to the dishes, finishing and arriving home about an hour after them. They're awake, but in the other bedroom; I can hear them talking. I'm quieter than usual while I make my tea and sneak into my own room.

Thirty pages later, there's a knock on my door.

"Come in," I say, assuming it's Silas coming to say good night. Instead, Tate steps into the room.

"Can't take it back now," he says as my face falls in disappointment. "I'm like a vampire. Once you invite me in, that's it. It's a forever pass."

"You're not funny," I say as he sits beside me on the bed.

"Yes, I am. Let me see your hand."

"Why?" I ask.

"Just give me your hand," he says again. "Please? "

I close my book, set it aside, and hold out my hand. Tate takes a bottle of nail polish from his pocket, unscrews the top, and starts painting my nails.

It's OPI's No Chips on my Shoulder blue.

"Where did you get that?" I ask, noticing his own nails are blue now, too.

"Silas got it for me," he says.

Of course he did.

"I only have nine nails."

"I remember; that's okay. You know," he says, looking at me through dark lashes as he works, "I was sorry. As soon as I said what I said to you in that motel, I was sorry. I was happy that day, too. I'm bad at apologies—you know that. And I don't like to change my mind because it feels like some kind of weird betrayal. Other hand, please."

I extend my other hand, and he takes it before continuing.

"I hurt you; I know that, and I'm so fucking sorry, Noah. I don't know how to be any sorrier, so if you want me to just leave you alone, then I guess I'll do it. I won't be happy about it, and, I mean, it'll be weird for obvious reasons, but I'll make it work, because I want you to be happy. I can't be the thing that makes you sad anymore—not when you used to look at me like…"

"Like what?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says. "It's stupid; it doesn't matter. Switch hands again, please. What are you reading about? I haven't seen that one before."

"It's stupid; it doesn't matter. "

Tate narrows his eyes at me, and I let myself smile at him…just a little bit.

"I see what you did there."

I end up telling him about the book, anyway, which is about making medicines and antibacterial compounds, while my nails dry. It's only slightly frustrating, because I'm pretty sure he's not listening to a word I'm saying.

He's just watching my mouth move, relieved that I'm actually talking to him.

But I kind of like that, too.

"Anyway, it doesn't really matter right now because everything's dead, but I'm taking notes for when the ground thaws."

"Cool," he says.

"Yeah, it is. Um, I'm pretty tired, so…I should go to sleep."

"Can I show you something?" he asks.

"What is it?"

"Something I think you'll like. You'll just have to trust me."

"Tate…I don't—"

"Come on. Just this one thing, and then I'll start leaving you alone like I promised, okay?"

It's what I've been asking for, so why does my chest ache when he says it?

"Okay," I relent.

"Come on," he says. "Get your boots."

I slip on my boots and jacket and follow him out the front door, letting him take me by the hand and lead me around the side of the house toward the backyard.

I start to get nervous—because after everything, what if this asshole really just brought me out here to kill me ?

"Tate? Where are we going?"

"It's easier to see from back here. I forgot your room doesn't have a window."

"See what?" I ask.

"Look up."

"Oh, my god," I whisper.

The Northern Lights.

Green and purple light paints the clear night sky. It's been on my bucket list since I learned about them when I was younger, but it was something I never thought I'd be able to tick off.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it, Tate."

"Remember when you did that presentation about them in seventh grade science?" he asks.

"Yeah. And I remember when Jordan Snyder started fake snoring, and you knocked his desk over."

Tate snorts. "Yep. No one messes with my girl."

"I wasn't your girl then."

He crinkles his nose. "Weren't you, though?"

I quickly look away and change the subject. "I wish I had a camera," I say. "God, it's just…it's better than it is in pictures. It makes me feel so fucking small and insignificant—in a good way, if that makes sense."

"That look right there," he says. "That's how you used to look at me."

"Tate…"

"Sorry, I'll be quiet now. I don't want to ruin this for you, so I'll just take a step back, and you let me know when you're ready to go back inside because like…there are wolves and shit, so I can't leave you out here alone."

"I appreciate that."

I stare up at the lights in the sky, feeling small and insignificant in a good way for a few more minutes, and decide to go back inside once I realize the only thing I'm feeling is Tate's eyes.

"We can go now," I tell him.

We trudge back through the snow to the front door. Tate makes a point to stomp off his boots and take them off on the rug, and I fight the urge to praise him for the common courtesy before doing the same.

"Good night, Noah," he says. "I'll give you your space, and if you need anything…well, you'll probably just ask Silas, but I'll be here, quietly loving you from a distance. And okay, I do kind of hear it now—that everything I say sounds like a threat—but I don't mean it in a creepy way this time."

"Good night, Tate. Thanks for painting my nails."

"You're welcome. Anytime."

He smiles sadly before closing the bedroom door. My heart drops into my stomach; I can't breathe, and I barely get to my own bedroom and close the door before the tears fall. I bury my face in my pillow, hoping it stifles the sobs enough that they can't hear me.

Once my eyes run dry, and I can't cry anymore, I get out of bed, cross the cabin to the other bedroom, and push open the door. I tiptoe across the room to Tate's side of the bed and stand there, debating whether I should wake him up or just go back to my room .

"Noah, I'm awake," Tate says after a couple of minutes pass like this. "I can see you standing there."

"Oh…sorry."

"Are you okay?"

I bite my lip, shaking my head in response before realizing he probably can't see it. "No," I say, sniffling. "Can I sleep with you?"

"Yeah, of course," he says, pulling the covers back. "Come here."

I crawl into the space in the middle of the bed, rest my head against his chest, and wrap my arms around him. And I feel…relief. Giving in is such a fucking relief, I want to cry all over again.

"I love you, Tate."

"I love you, too."

He kisses my forehead before threading his fingers through my hair, his thumb rubbings circles against the skin right behind my ear, and I feel like, for the first time in days—maybe years—I can breathe again.

"Noah," Silas says, stirring beside me. He throws an arm around my waist and kisses the back of my head. "Are you happy, baby?"

"Yeah," I tell him. "I'm happy."