Noah (4 page)

I released a breath and returned to my seat, ignoring everyone who tried to catch my eye. I was done with the attention. I was done with this suit and the tie that was suffocating me. I was done with responsibilities.

I was just done.

The priest shared something from the bible, and I closed my eyes and leaned forward, elbows on my knees. If I could get away with earplugs, I'd probably ask for them. I needed today to be over.

Thank fuck we were parting ways after this. There'd be dinner for the closest at my folks' house, but nothing big like this.

"Now, please, the stage is yours, Julian," the priest said, which confused the fuck outta me.

I looked behind me at Daniel, lifting a brow.

"I didn’t tell you?" he whispered.

No, he damn well hadn't. I didn't mind, obviously. If Julian wanted to say something about our family, great—good for him. I'd just figured it wasn't his thing.

This was the kid who had spent the past two weeks trashing their home in Berlin, if James's assistant was correct. He hadn't returned any calls; he hadn't given a fuck.

Julian didn't go to the podium like the rest of us had done, though. He headed for the piano that stood to the side.

I straightened in my seat and folded my arms over my chest.

I recalled Mia telling me he'd had a double major. Maybe music was one of them.

Julian didn't say anything. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and the moment his fingers gently hit the keys, I heard what song it was.
Mad World
. If he did this well, he'd fucking ruin me.

He sang quietly, with a hint of a British accent. If I wasn’t mistaken, I'd teased him about his accent changing when they'd moved to Germany. Now, his voice was merely a punch in the gut. Quiet and soft, yet clear and raw. I hadn't expected any of this.

Songs like these…they triggered memories and emotions, and I was already near my breaking point. I didn't wanna be around people when I was pushed over the edge, which was inevitable.

He went on, a bit choked up, singing about drowning his sorrows and no tomorrows, and it made me wonder if he'd been pushed over the edge, too. 'Cause the first thing that came to mind was destroying things.

For a relatively short song, Julian seemed to go on forever. I sniffled and rubbed my eyes. He needed to fucking stop. He didn't only perform it well; he was gifted as hell. His fingers danced over the keys flawlessly, and his voice…Jesus Christ.

The kid was in pain.

I was going through purgatory, but damn. Despite how close I'd been with our family, he'd seen most of them every day. He was young, and he'd lost his mom and dad, his little brother and sister. Plus two grandparents.

Glancing over at James's parents, I wondered if they could be there for Julian. They were beside themselves with grief for their son, daughter-in-law, and two young grandchildren. Where was Julian off to after this? Back to Berlin?

I bet he had friends there, but what about family?

No matter how he'd acted before today, I kinda owed it to myself and my sister to talk to him.

Chapter 4

I was spent after the whole church ordeal was over, and when we got back to my parents' house, the first thing I did was pour a drink.

Fuck what the others thought. It was only James's parents, my friends, Julian, and Pop's two brothers with their wives. Luckily, though, no one seemed to think I'd turned into an alcoholic yet. While the women gathered in the kitchen to set up the food we'd had catered, the men ended up in the living room with glasses of whiskey.

"You did good, son," one of my uncles told me. "Organizing all this today…Abigail and Frank would'a been proud."

I strolled over to the window and emptied half my glass. "I didn't do much. Thank Sophie and Danny." It was dark outside, but I was sure I could see movement in the backyard. There was a porch swing attached to an ancient tree, and I was willing to bet it was Julian out there. He'd kept to himself on the way over to the house, not saying much.

We'd gotten lucky where the reporters were concerned. There had only been a couple waiting outside the church after the service. Easily dealt with, but maybe it had affected Julian negatively. I didn't know.

I loosened my tie and took it off.

If I never had to wear one again, I wouldn't complain.

My uncles told Tennyson and Daniel about my pop as a young guy, and my friends had a couple stories to share as well, about my birthday party where they'd met Pop the first time. I'd had it and needed some air, so it was a good time to play the uncle I was supposed to be and check in on Julian.

Shrugging out of my jacket, I opened the door to the terrace and stepped outside. It wasn't the heat of Cali I'd gotten used to; it was perfect. Fresh air. I unbuttoned the top button of my shirt too, and I could finally breathe.

I kicked a football that was in my path, alerting Julian to my presence.

"Food's almost ready if you're hungry." I sat down next to him with a grunt, the old swing creaking with age.

"I'm not, but thanks." He stared out at nothing. I couldn’t see his features clearly, though his eyes shone from the light in the house.

I stared ahead too, enjoying the silence. I saw when Sophie and my uncle's wife came into the living room. Probably announcing that dinner was ready.

"You stayin' with Gerald and Trudy?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Yeah, for now."

And then what? We didn't know each other that well, but it didn't seem healthy for him to take off on his own. Even at twenty-three, he was very young. To go from having everything to nothing like that wasn’t easy.

"Do you need me around for lawyers and whatnot?" he wondered. "I'm not sure I can deal with that."

I shook my head. "Not much to settle. Aside from the house, I'm signing over everything into your name."

Maybe the house would be his one day too, but for now, I wanted it to stay my parents'. It was too soon to go through everything, and I wasn't hurting for money. I'd have the furniture covered and hire someone to clean until I was ready.

"Let me know if you need help with your dad's will."

"Our family lawyer's already contacted me," he responded. "Grandpa said he could fix it for me. I don't care. I don't want anything."

He'd find it useful one day, when he felt better.

"I know we're not close," I told him, "but you can always come out and visit me in LA."

It was what I had to give. I couldn’t stay in Pittsburgh much longer. The pain was too fucking much in this city, and I had no energy to go with him to Berlin—if that was where he wanted to stay.

Tennyson had not-so-subtly suggested I try therapy or grief counseling, and maybe it was a good idea. But I needed to be on my own turf, and only my loft felt like home.

Julian didn't acknowledge my offer, which was fine with me. I didn't know his thoughts or his needs.

"Did you mean what you said at the service?" he asked softly after a while. "About not knowing how to go on."

I nodded slowly, my mind already fuzzy. I remembered most of what I'd said, but since it hadn't been rehearsed, it wasn't all there. I knew I'd meant every word, though.

"Yeah."

He swallowed audibly. "I don't know, either."

As the adult, so to speak, I reckoned this was where I was supposed to have some golden advice, but I had absolute shit.

Part of me wanted to get buried in work, though there was no way I'd pull through. I wouldn’t be able to deliver and stay committed. There was no motivation or inspiration.

"Well, my offer stands, kid." I gave his leg a pat as I stood up. "Come out whenever you want. I probably won't be the best company, but I have plenty of room and LA is full of distractions."

I began walking back to the house; then I remembered something I wanted to tell him, so I stopped and turned.

"Julian, did you major in music?"

He lifted his head as if it weighed a ton. "And art. Why?"

"I could tell. You were great today."

"Oh. Thank you." He looked down again. "I wasn't sure I should do it. Dad wasn't stoked about me going with not one, but two directions where it's not easy to get a job."

My mouth twisted up, if only a little. Sure sounded like something James would say. "That’s what parents do. You think my folks were thrilled when I said I wanted to study film?" But much like mine, Julian's mom and dad were…
had been
…good people. "You know what my pop did when I landed my first big project, though? He took me out for a beer and was happy to admit he'd been wrong. James would have done the same thing."

He bobbed his head slowly. "Okay."

I watched him, wondering if there was a protocol I didn't know about. Was I supposed to press? What would I even say in that case? I was at a loss and figured it was probably best to give him space. Either he believed me or he didn't. Or he needed to digest, fuck if I knew.

He had my number, my address, and my email. If he wanted help or whatever, he could contact me whenever.

With that thought, I headed back inside to force some food into me. I'd rather go straight for the bottle, but that could wait until I was alone.

*

Tennyson and Sophie flew back to LA the following day, and the day after that, it was Daniel and Zane's turn. They went home to New York, though not before Danny insisted I needed a PA. I definitely didn't, but I guessed it couldn’t hurt to have someone come over with food that didn't come from takeout places.

The morning after, it was my turn to leave Pittsburgh.

Completely drained and anxious, I boarded the flight and checked my emails while the plane filled up. I confirmed payments for the gardener and housecleaning I'd ordered for my folks' place, I checked in with James's parents, and I fired off a quick email to Sophie to say when I was landing.

I had a few minutes to spare, so I wrote Julian a text, too. I hadn't heard from him since the night of the memorial, and something told me to pay attention to him.

Off to LA now. Take care of yourself, kid. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything. —Noah

The rest of my blown-up inbox could wait. I was giving myself a month to be a selfish dickbag and drink my sorrows away. After that, maybe I'd return to the land of the living. Possibly.

I looked out the window as the plane taxied down the runway, and there was a tremor of unease and irrational fear. But perhaps I traveled too much to let the accident get to me. The statistics were a comfort, and it ensured that flying remained…slightly tedious and a whole lot boring.

*

The plane crash was old news in LA, and I was back to being only semifamous. Industry people knew me well, but otherwise, I was only interesting to paps if I was out with Sophie or I was at a premiere.

I took a cab from LAX and switched on my phone on the way. A shipping company had sent an update on the two boxes of photo albums I was having sent from Pittsburgh, and I had a message from Sophie, as well.

The only bad thing about our building is that we don't have a doorman. Someone buzzed Emma in, and she won't leave. Let me know if you want me to deal with her.

I groaned quietly and pinched the bridge of my nose. She was right. Having a doorman wouldn’t have hurt. Too bad I'd never been the type of man to want a mansion. I loved my loft, the New York factory feel, the high ceilings, and open space. What I didn't love was having my ex camped outside my door.

Might as well get it over with, though. Our spectacular breakup had ended abruptly, and I'd known I would see her again. Despite that she hadn't been to the loft in ages, she had shit of hers there.

About a year after we'd gotten together, my roommates had moved to their own places, so with them leaving and now Emma taking her stuff, I wouldn’t have much left, I reckoned.

No fucks to give.

When we finally reached my street, I was both relieved and anxious. Once I'd dealt with Emma, I would be alone. At fucking last. I couldn’t wait to shut everyone out and be miserable. But at the same time, I was dreading it 'cause I knew it was gonna get ugly. As difficult as it was to hold myself together—somewhat—for the sake of others, it also kept me from knowing how deep I'd fall once I let go.

I paid the fare and got out of the cab, and I wasn't too surprised to see Tennyson waiting outside our building. He had his daughter and their new puppy with him.

"Uncle Noah!" Ivy waved madly, almost dropping the leash.

"Hey, sunshine." I smiled, a genuine one, and walked over to them. "How many dogs do you guys have now?"

Tennyson and his brother ran a charity organization for rescue dogs, including a massive rehabilitation ranch in San Diego. He and Sophie had at least four of them up at their house in Mendocino. Someone lived there 24/7 just to take care of the dogs.

"Not enough," she said cheekily. "Right, Daddy?"

Tennyson chuckled and ruffled her hair. "If you say so, baby." As if he didn't agree. His grin faded a bit as he turned to me. "She's waiting outside your door." He spoke of Emma. "Sophie tried to get her to leave, but unless we involve the authorities, there isn't much we can do."

I shook my head grimly. "I'll deal with her. Might as well get it over with. I want her outta my life."

"I figured." He inclined his head and opened the door. "I took the liberty of ordering a truck for her belongings, and Sophie stacked a bunch of moving boxes in the hallway. Emma was quite adamant about talking to you, but her excuse for not budging was her 'right' to get her things."

Yeah, that sounded like Emma. She knew persistence.

"I appreciate it, man." I passed him, and we rode up to the third floor together. "Can I expect movers soon, or…?"

"In a couple hours," he replied with a nod. "Sophie's taking the kids to Asher's, but I'll be around if you need any help."

"We gonna play in the pool," Ivy supplied.

I patted her head. "I bet you'll have fun."

The elevator doors opened, and part of me wanted to veer left to hide out in Tennyson and Sophie's loft, but… I exchanged a look with him and a nod, and then I headed right to the second and last loft on the floor. Mine. Not
hers
. There she was, and she stood up fast when she saw me.

"Noah," Emma breathed out. Her eyes welled up, and she smoothed a hand over her hair.

I said nothing as I dug out my keys and waited for Tennyson and Ivy to disappear into their place.

It hurt to see her, I had to admit. She was still fucking ugly for what she'd done, but my heart wasn't about to erase the last four years as fast as my mind had.

I entered the loft and dumped my bag in the hall.

Emma followed me inside and closed the door.

"How are you?" she asked carefully.

"Peachy," I drawled. I surveyed the large, open living room. The couch was mine, but I didn't want it anymore. The flat screen, I was keeping. "You know where the boxes are. I'll help you pack."

Heading to the kitchen, I kept looking around me. Maybe waiting for the loft to not feel like home, either. But that feeling didn't come, thankfully. I knew why, too. We'd barely spent time here together.

In the beginning of our relationship, we were mostly at her place. Then, around the same time my roommates had moved out, we'd bought the house in northern Cali.

As I opened the fridge, finding it pathetically empty, I texted Daniel and grabbed the last bottle of water.

You got me. The PA is a good idea. What's his/her number?

I needed groceries, booze, and a website of a furniture store that delivered within twenty-four hours. Not necessarily in that order.

Emma appeared with a few empty boxes and a sad expression.

"You said you wanted to talk." I grabbed one of the boxes. For now, I was numb, though that could change in a heartbeat. Not wanting to waste any time, I started opening cupboards.

"I'm not—what're you—ugh." She was frustrated. "Can we please sit down and talk like adults? You're acting like everything I've touched is tainted."

Spot on. I'd learned that my dick wasn’t tainted, but I didn’t know about the rest, and why risk it?