Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Aiden

Noah lay peacefully asleep in my arms, his breathing gentle and rhythmic. His body was warm against mine, his skin still radiating a comforting heat. His eyelashes fluttered slightly, as if he were still wandering through a dream.

He looked so beautiful like this.

I tightened my hold around him, feeling a deep sense of reverence in this moment. Having him here, vulnerable and trusting, curled up close to me as if I were his refuge—his safe place—felt almost sacred.

Yet, the bitter truth lingered beneath that feeling.

I wasn’t always the safe harbor he believed me to be.

My gaze drifted upward to the ceiling, my chest constricting with an emotion I dared not name. Beneath the calm, beneath the rush of control and release, there was a heavy weight pressing down on me—an unbearable burden.

He trusts me.

That should have been comforting, but instead, it filled me with fear. Because I understood what that trust truly meant.

It meant that tonight, he had given me more than just his body. He had handed me his heart, his healing, his hope. Now, I was responsible for helping him grow into everything he was meant to be—not just on the football field, but in every aspect of life.

I wanted that for him more than anything I had ever desired.

But as I looked down at him now, I couldn’t help but think of someone else—someone who had once looked up to me with the same kind of admiration.

Micah.

God, Micah.

He was the only person who ever saw through all my defenses—the control, the mask, the quiet storms behind my eyes—and never flinched.

Micah had given me everything: his submission, his affection, his unwavering loyalty. And I couldn’t even give him back half of that.

Not because I didn’t care.

But because I had nothing left to give.

When Micah entered my life, I was already shattered. That injury—the one that changed everything—took far more than just my leg. It stole my entire future, along with the future of the person I loved more than myself.

It wasn’t.

The snow was falling heavily as we left. I kept driving, telling him not to worry. I made dumb jokes, cranked up the heat, trying to keep the mood light.

But we never made it home.

I lost control on a curve just off the highway. Black ice. The car spun wildly, tumbling down the hill.

Jamie broke his spine. And I shattered everything else.

My ACL tore from the impact. My leg was destroyed. They told me it could heal—with surgeries, rehab, time. But I didn’t care. Because no one could tell me how to fix him.

He spent the next year learning to live in a wheelchair.

I spent the next year learning to hate myself.

No more football. No more stardom. No more brother looking at me like I hung the stars. Just silence. Cold. Shame. And the endless replay of that night every time I closed my eyes.