Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 168

Chapter 168

Noah

I spent the better part of the afternoon sitting quietly in Emily’s hospital room, keeping her company while Mom was away. The soft, rhythmic hum of the machines filled the otherwise still space, and the monitors blinked with steady, unchanging lights. I perched in the chair beside her bed, clutching a ghost-story book I barely remembered picking up from the gift shop earlier. Reading aloud felt like the only thing I could do to help—like it was the smallest thread of normalcy I could offer in this strange, fragile moment.

At first, I tried—very carefully—to coax the truth from her, hoping she might say the words out loud. But Emily simply turned her fragile face toward me, her eyes sharp and too knowing for someone just sixteen.

“Noah,” she whispered, her voice soft but unwavering, “you know about Father. You know what you went through with him. I know, you know, Mom knows—and no one ever said a word. Because it’s not safe. It wasn’t safe then, and it isn’t safe now. I can’t say it, not when you’ll be gone in two days, and we’ll be left with him and no one to turn to. He’s always gotten away.”

Her words cut deeper than any bruise on her skin, slicing through the quiet like a blade.

She swallowed hard, then added, her tone bitter, “He’s always after Mom. The only way to stop this would be for us to leave him. Otherwise, it just never ends.”

I wanted to argue, to promise I’d tear that bastard apart, to swear I’d never let him hurt them again. But seeing Emily so small and fragile, I knew piling more weight onto her shoulders would only break her. Instead, I nodded, squeezed her hand gently, and shifted the conversation.

We talked about football—about practice, the scouts, and the classes I was barely managing to keep up with. Gradually, the atmosphere lightened. We found the hospital TV remote and flipped through channels until we landed on some old sitcom reruns. We laughed at the canned laughter, the over-the-top acting, and how the characters seemed frozen in time despite the show’s age. For a while, it was just the two of us again—two kids sharing jokes like we used to.

At one point, Emily gave me a sideways glance, a sly grin flickering across her tired face. “So… any dates? Girlfriends? Anyone I should know about?” she teased.

I chuckled quietly. “No, just friends. There’s this cheerleader, Lexie, I hung out with a couple of times, but it’s nothing serious.”

A little later, the door creaked open and Mom slipped back in, looking tired but freshly washed, like she’d just come from home. I stood up, kissed Emily’s forehead gently, and promised we’d be right back. Then I led Mom out into the waiting room, my chest tightening with the weight of what was coming next.

Mom sat across from me, her hands twisting nervously in her lap, eyes darting everywhere but meeting mine. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, trying to keep my voice calm and steady.

“Mom,” I said softly, “why are you hiding this? Why won’t you leave Dad? This isn’t just about you anymore—Emily’s in danger. She could have died.”

Her face crumpled, and she shook her head, “Noah, you don’t understand—”

“No,” I interrupted, gentler but firm. “I do understand. I lived it. I took his fists, remember? And now it’s Emily. Why won’t you stop this?”