Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213

“Then give me whatever you can,” he pleaded quietly. “Train me. Show me the way. Help me avoid falling into another nightmare.”

I gave a single nod. “Until we find someone you can truly trust, I’ll take you under my wing. But only at the club. Do you understand?”

His smile returned, soft and grateful. “Yes, Sir.”

For the first time all day, a small weight lifted inside me—just a little.

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The days between Christmas and New Year’s passed in a haze of poor choices. I had firmly told Micah “only at the club”—a clear boundary I shattered every time another photo of Noah’s happiness and his new family appeared on my feed.

Each picture felt like a blow to my ribs—Noah laughing with his family in the sprawling Colorado mansion, Noah standing beneath the towering tree in the grand foyer, Noah on the balcony with snow gently drifting behind him, Noah smiling as if the world had never caused him pain. Every time my chest tightened, so did my resolve crumble.

By Tuesday, Micah had texted, “Lunch?” and I hadn’t refused.

By Thursday, he was back at my place, grinning as if rules didn’t exist.

“Come on, Sir,” he teased, leaning casually against my doorway, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief. “You’re not going to spend New Year’s alone like some tragic monk. Remember? We got invited—the club party.”

“I remember,” I muttered, “and I also remember saying we weren’t going.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You said maybe.”

“I said no.”

“And I chose to interpret that as maybe,” he said smoothly, pushing past me into the living room. “Now, you’re coming, and I’m not taking no for an answer. I even found something festive.”

“Festive?” I asked cautiously.

He grinned wider and pulled out a small shopping bag. “Red velvet. Soft as sin.”

“Micah—”

He brandished a thong with a white deer tail attached, which swayed accusingly. “You can’t tell me this isn’t peak holiday spirit.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

He wasn’t finished. “And look—matching reindeer horns. Sparkly ones.”

“Something dangerously close to ruining my sanity.”

He laughed, brushing off imaginary dust from his bare shoulder. “I’ll take that.”

Somewhere amidst the flashing lights and the scent of champagne, my phone lit up again. A headline. A photo.

Noah—dressed in a black suit, silver tie, hair slicked back, hand in hers—captured at a gala.

He looked like a prince. My prince. And the pain was so sharp, it nearly stole my breath.

Micah caught the fleeting expression on my face. “Bad news?”

“Why aren’t you already on your knees? And did I give you permission to speak?” I said, slipping the phone into my pocket.

He studied me for a moment, then promptly dropped to his knees. “Forgive me, Sir.”

I forced a steady breath, straightened my jacket, and let the crowd swallow us whole. My heart was miles away, with a boy who had once loved me before shattering my world. But my body was here, relearning the art of survival.

At the end of the day, it was my own lack of common sense and my tendency to make terrible mistakes that had brought me here. And tonight, I was about to make another.