Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 163

Chapter 163

Noah

The moment we landed home, my gut twisted into knots. All those old ghosts-every slammed door, every bruise, every scream-came creeping back at once. I felt twelve again, too small, too scared, already bracing for the next hit. I needed a moment. Just a damn second to put myself together before I could walk back into the root of all my evils.

But I had Aiden. That was the only difference between then and now. His hand at the small of my back, the weight of his presence beside me-it was enough to keep me breathing, to keep me from breaking down or doing something I’d regret.

The hospital smelled like bleach and sickness, that sterile stink clinging to every wall, every floor tile. The halls were a blur of white coats and squeaking shoes, with the low hum of machines in every direction. People walked past me like I was invisible, but inside I was on fire. Each step deeper into those corridors felt heavier, like dragging chains.

When we reached her room, my mom was there. She shot up from the chair the second she saw me. “Noah,” she whispered, tears already spilling. She clung to me hard, sobbing into my chest, and for the first time I realized how small she felt. Fragile. Like a stiff wind could snap her in half.

I hugged her back, trying to be strong when I wasn’t. “Mom,” I muttered, choking. Then I pulled back just enough to glance at Aiden. “This is Coach Mercer. He’s…he’s the reason I got here so fast. He helped me with everything.”

She wiped her eyes, tried to smile through the tears, and reached out to squeeze his hand in thanks. I didn’t miss the way Aiden’s other hand hovered just behind my back, steadying me.

But my eyes moved past her to the bed.

Emily.

She looked so damn young. Sixteen, but in that moment she could’ve been ten again, my baby sister curled in on herself. Pale skin washed out under the harsh hospital lights, her face too thin, her body lost under the sheets. Beautiful still-always-but like a porcelain doll someone had dropped, cracked in places you couldn’t glue back together.

My chest caved.

I moved to her side, pulled up the chair with shaking hands, and sat. For a long time I couldn’t speak. I just reached out, fingers trembling, and took her hand. Her skin was cool and soft, so much smaller than mine. My thumb brushed over her knuckles, and I saw it-the purple shadows under her gown, peeking from where the fabric slipped. Bruises. Dark and ugly.

Those weren’t from a fall. No way in hell.

How did they not see? How could anyone still believe the accident bullshit?

My throat burned as tears slipped free. “Em,” I whispered, broken. I leaned down, kissed her forehead, and the feel of her damp skin against my lips shattered me. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I should’ve been here. I should’ve protected you.”

Her eyelids fluttered, slow and heavy. She winced like even the act of waking up hurt. But then her lashes lifted, and she looked at me-those same soft brown eyes that always lit up when I called her kiddo. They filled instantly with tears.

“Noah,” she breathed, voice scratchy and weak.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me.” My voice broke all over again. “I’m here.”

She started crying, and I was already gone. I held her hand tighter, bent close. “Tell me the truth,” I begged, whispering through the ache. “Please, Em. What happened? Did he-”

Her fingers tightened weakly on mine. “Let it be,” she murmured. “It was an accident.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I whispered, fierce and shaking. “Not you. Please. I need-”

1/2

5:22 pm P P

Chapter 163

The door opened.

1 froze.

And there he was. My father.

My childhood demon, somewhat smaller than I remembered in stature, but with that same overpowering presence that took my breath away, and that easy, practiced smile plastered on like it could hide anything. He glanced first at Aiden without really seeing him, like he was taking measure of an unknown suit in the room. Then he looked at me and folded his face into something soft and practiced.

“Noah,” he said, voice warm, with that gentlemanly ease he’d always used when he wanted to make people forget the rest. “Your mother told me you were coming.” He stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder the way a man does when he wants to seem reassuring.

Time split into slow pieces. For a second I just stood there-Aiden’s eyes finding mine across my mom’s hunched frame, that tiny gesture from him that told me not to erupt yet. I breathed, forcing the rage down like a leash.

“What happened to her?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

My father’s smile didn’t crack. “She slipped,” he said, easy and practiced. “Fell down the stairs.”

“How did that happen? She’s gone down those stairs since she could walk…” I questioned his theory.

He ignored the accusation on the table, giving me one of his well-rehearsed line. “We were arguing, had a little scuffle-and she slipped, that’s all.” He studied my face as if gauging my reaction, as if I were some kid who’d been told bedtime stories about gravity.

“She just slipped,” I said. “On her own?”

He shrugged diplomatically. “Accidents happen in every household, Noah. You know how that is.”

“No, dad. I don’t know how that is, really… The only accidents I’ve known were those with you around!”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to accuse me of, but if that’s what you came for, you can get the fuck out!” He hissed an inch from my face.

Before the thing could get worse, Aiden touched my arm-just a light, precise pressure-and stepped forward a fraction, attention toward the bed. He folded his voice, calm but carrying authority. “Maybe now isn’t the time for whatever this is. The doctors need room, and she needs quiet.” He nodded toward Emily, who was listening, small and hollow-eyed.

My father’s eyes narrowed as he took Aiden in, gaze dragging up and down, cataloguing him like a threat. Then his attention cut back to me, sharp and measuring, before snapping right back to Aiden-cold, suspicious, unblinking.

“And who the hell are you?”