Chapter 595
Noah
The bar feels empty the moment they step out, leaving the stale hum of conversation and the clink of glasses behind.
Gunner leans against the bar. “What was that, Noah? You were an asshole.”
“I wasn’t,” I reply coolly. “I was being honest.”
“That wasn’t honesty… that was a tactical aim to cause maximum damage!” Gunner growls. “Why do you
keep hurting Sierra? It’s not like she got herself pregnant.”
We’ve been friends for years, so I know when Gunner is pissed. He kept a light atmosphere, probably for Sierra’s sake, but now that they’re gone, he’s making his views clear.
“She probably did,” I mutter before calling a waitress over.
“Fuck! Stop being such a douche. I know you don’t want the baby, but you could have handled the
situation better.”
I shrug, smooth as ice. “I handled it just fine.”
“Uh–huh,” he says sarcastically. “Sure, that’s why you were tearing her down with your words.”
I clench my fists, still pissed by her words. “You are acting as if I were the only one throwing barbs.”
“I’m glad she threw those barbs,” he leans back in his seat. “You’ve been insulting her for years while she kept quiet, silently taking it. I’m glad to see she’s finally fighting your ass.”
I roll my eyes, but a flicker rises in my chest that I don’t want to name. I don’t even know why I commented about the baby. I shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t care about what happens with the baby. Yet the words slipped before I could stop them.
I remain silent, brooding over today’s turn of events. This is one of Gunner’s favorite bars, mainly because it’s not associated with any of our family names. I just wanted to relax and catch up with him since we haven’t talked since that day at the club. I didn’t expect to run into Sierra.
“You’ve got more fire arguing with her than you’ve shown in the years since Chloe died,” Gunner says, breaking the silence.
“I was not arguing,” I scoff, taking a sip from my glass, deflecting, forcing it down. “I don’t care what she
does.”
I honestly don’t care. Otherwise, if I did, would I be telling her to get rid of the baby?
I glance toward the window, and the movement catches my eye. A masked man is standing across the
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street watching. My irritation spikes. The fact that he’s hiding his face means he’s paparazzi and doesn’t want to be recognized. They know I’m not too fond of them and crossing me could ruin their career or
their company.
I bite back a growl, shoving down the irritation. As long as there are no pictures tomorrow, I have no problem with what they do.
Gunner watches me, reading the slight flicker of unease.
“You know, the way you reacted is almost as if—”
I snap, hackles rising. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
He doesn’t flinch. “Hear me out. I’m just saying that you’ve been living like the dead since Chloe died. But apart from the twins, Sierra’s the only one who seems to shake that off. She’s been able to bring out
emotion in you.”
The words sting, and I tighten my jaw. “You’re overstepping, Gunner.”
“But I’m not wrong. You haven’t been this angry in years. You’ve been numb, and she made you feel something other than sadness and depression.”
“All I feel is anger and hatred… Don’t make it seem like it’s something special or some shit like love.”
“Hate is such a strong word,” he tsks. “But remember there’s a fine line between love and hate.”
I glance back at the window again. The masked figure is gone. No trace, just the space where he stood.
I set my glass down, rigid. Gunner leans back, smirking like he knows the storm inside me. Then he drops
the grenade:
“All this happening is good, because let’s face it, since Chloe died, you’ve been nothing but a ghost.”
I laugh. Loud and sharp. But inside, it’s a strike that lands, brutal and unrelenting.
Outside, shadows stretch across the street, the night quiet except for the occasional car. Inside, I feel a crack I’m not ready to name yet.
I sit back, trying to steady my breathing, but the glass in my hand feels heavier than it should. Gunner’s words echo in my head.
A ghost. Hollow, cold and untouchable. That’s what I’ve been since Chloe died.
Against my will, my mind drifts to Sierra. I see her smile, the one that doesn’t reach her eyes when she’s pretending not to care. The curve of her jaw, the hardness in her gaze when she talks back.
Now, I can’t stop thinking about her. About the way she fought me, the way she stared me down, the sharpness in her words, or how she stood her ground.
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She’s different from what I’m used to. From how I used to know her. I can’t find the timid girl I used to know no matter how hard I search. Now all there is, is a woman with a sharp tongue, lots of attitude and
a palm she’s not afraid to use.
I stop, pushing the thoughts away. It’s unsettling that I’m even thinking about her.
Gunner notices my silence, smirking knowingly. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”
I bristle. “I’m… considering the situation.”
“Sure,” he says, leaning back, arms crossed. “You’re only thinking about the situation, not about how she’s gotten under your skin.”
I snarl, turning my glare to him, “Now you’re just being fucking delusional.”
He laughs, but this knowing look stays on his face. It’s like he knows a divine secret I don’t.
“I think Sierra might be the first woman to make you feel again,” Gunner says with conviction. “And maybe, just maybe, she’s the one to make your heart beat again.”
I dismiss his words. He’s wrong. There’s no chance in hell of that happening. Sierra is the last woman I’ll
ever fall in love with.
Famous last words. A voice whispers.
