Chapter 236

Aiden

I didn’t wait until we were outside the courthouse.

The second the door shut behind us, Noah folded.

Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just—like someone had finally unplugged him.

His breathing hitched, sharp and fast, fingers clutching at my jacket like he was drowning and I was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Hey,” I murmured, cupping his face, forcing his eyes up to mine. “Look at me. You’re here. You’re safe.”

He nodded once. Didn’t believe it yet.

I kissed his forehead, slow and grounding. “Breathe with me, baby. In. Out.”

It took a minute. Maybe two. His hands stopped shaking before his eyes did.

Inside, I was burning.

If James Blake were standing in front of me again, I’d have put him through the wall.

But this wasn’t about my rage or making things any worse. It was about getting Noah through the next hour without breaking and then, after the next, and the next…

The lawyer answered our million questions, fears, and concerns in one of the legal offices—quiet, clipped, professional. Noah listened. I memorized every word.

Then I drove to the Harts’ mansion. Just as we’d promised the others.

It made sense in that strange way trauma rearranges logic. Familiar ground. Family. Support. Somewhere Noah wouldn’t feel alone the second I let go of his hand.

Lexie’s house smelled like soup and flowers—normal smells that felt wrong in a week like this.

Margaret hugged Noah first. Emily hovered, pale and tense, but smiling when she saw him walk in under his own power.

Lexie’s mother kept things simple and at ease. No questions. No pressure. Just food, warm bowls placed on the table, quiet kindness like a blanket.

We ate in peace, with gentle talk as we enjoyed each other’s comforting presence.

When our hostess finally spoke, her voice was tired but steady. “I don’t want Lexie alone today. I’m glad you’re all here.”

No one argued.

When she excused herself to rest, the room shifted.

That was the moment everyone had been waiting for.

We sat.

Hale leaned back in his chair, composed but alert. Micah curled into the corner of the couch, knee bouncing, eyes sharp, tapping the seat next to him for Lexie to join him. Margaret and Emily sat straight, like they were bracing for impact.

Noah stayed pressed against my side, and of course, I didn’t let go. Not for a second. I wrapped my arm around him, pulling him closer and kissing the top of his head.

“So,” Lexie said quietly. “What did he say?”

Noah swallowed. I felt it in his throat before I saw it.

“He tried to scare me,” he said. “Same way he always did.”

“How?” Margaret asked, voice tight.

I answered before Noah had to. “He found out about us first, then figured out everything else. Of course, he threatened exposure. Not legally—emotionally. He wanted Noah to doubt himself.”

“And can he?” Emily asked. “Can he say… things?”

The lawyer’s words echoed in my head. I kept my voice even.

“No,” I said. “Not the way he thinks.”

Micah frowned. “But he could try, right? In court?”

Hale shook his head before I could. “Judges don’t allow character assassination without relevance. If James brings up Noah’s relationship, it gets shut down immediately.”

“And if he keeps pushing?” Lexie asked.

“Then he hands us more evidence of manipulation,” Hale said calmly. “Which helps us, not him.”

Margaret exhaled shakily. “How did he even know? And… if he brings up your relationship with Aiden, the blackmail, the fake wedding… won’t it reach social media?”

Noah spoke then. Quiet. Certain.

“He saw us together back home,” he said. “Then he saw us here. He’s smart. But we will fight back. Our lawyer will object every time, so it shouldn’t reach anywhere outside the courtroom.”

Everyone looked at him.

“And why is he doing this anyway?” Micah asked, genuinely confused. “He’s already in prison. I mean, he killed a man. How much worse can it get if Noah testifies too?”

“He doesn’t want me to testify because I’m the proof,” Noah said. “Not just of what he did to William—but of who he’s always been.”

Silence followed.

“I don’t get it,” Micah said softly.

I squeezed Noah’s hand before answering. “Noah’s testimony is about pattern, intent, and escalation. Years of abuse. Prior threats. Violence. Motive.”

“And most importantly,” Hale added, leaning forward, “premeditation.”

“But without Noah, James can still be convicted, right?” Margaret and Lexie asked at the same time.

“Of course,” I said quickly. “But his sentence—and his leverage—could change.”

Hale nodded. “He knows if all of it comes out, his life sentence becomes ironclad. No parole. No sympathy.”

“So,” Micah said, grinning despite himself, “Law for Dummies version—Noah’s the nail in the coffin.”

“Exactly,” I said. “But he’s not doing it alone.”

“Hell no,” Micah said, pumping his fist. “One for all, and all for one.”

And for the first time since that courthouse door closed, I felt him steady.

Not healed.

But held.

And sometimes, that’s enough to survive the day.

No one rushed to leave.

We stayed there, scattered across the sitting room, talking about nothing important and everything that kept the silence from swallowing us whole. No one tried to make jokes. No one tried to be brave. It felt wrong to talk about the future, like tempting fate—or worse, disrespecting the dead.

Micah broke it first, telling one of his ridiculous stories, hands moving more than necessary, his cast thumping against the armrest as he reenacted something that had apparently happened at the club years ago. It wasn’t funny-funny. But it was… normal.

Emily chimed in next, talking about a book she’d been reading, some fantasy novel with too many names and not enough maps. Noah leaned forward, interested despite himself, commenting on a detail he swore was unrealistic.

“I don’t hate fantasy,” he said defensively. “I just don’t like when things are unrealistic. Like those anime Micah made us watch at the hospital…”

Micah gave Noah his 'oh-no-you-didn’t' look.

“Excuse you. That’s a contradictory take. Fantasy is always unrealistic… hence the name fantasy.”

Lexie smiled at that. A small one. But real.

Time passed like that. Slowly. Gently. No one watching the clock.

At some point, I noticed Lexie rubbing her temples, exhaustion catching up to her. I cleared my throat. “We should probably let you rest.”

Hale nodded immediately. “I have an early morning.”

Micah stretched. “Yeah. Doctor’s orders say I’m supposed to be boring.”

We all stood.

And then Lexie hesitated—a shadow of disappointment in her eyes.

It was subtle. Just a fraction too slow to move.

Micah noticed, too.

He stopped and turned back to her. “Hey,” he said softly. “I can start being boring when I’m dead. Why don’t I stay a while longer? Read. Judge your questionable taste in literature.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I guess I could put up with you a while longer…” She smiled.

“I feel the love,” he said.

Noah glanced at me. Then back at them. “I mean… if you’re staying, I’m staying. I can’t let Micah be the only one pretending to like poetry.”

Micah squinted. “Sure… why don’t you stay too, Noah? Reading was not code for—I don’t know—cuddling or anything—”

“Did I ever tell you about this book I read in high school?” Noah cut in, ignoring him. “It was technically poetry, but—”

Hale sighed dramatically. “I could use more of that special iced tea… but only if no one starts reciting anything.”

“Long Island Iced Tea, you mean?” Micah teased.

Lexie laughed then. Quiet. Almost disbelieving. “Okay,” she said. “Iced tea and a movie?”

Micah clapped once. “Say no more. I’ll find popcorn.”

He paused. “Where do you keep popcorn?”

Lexie blinked. “Honestly? I have no idea. Someone else always makes it.”

Thus began the great popcorn hunt.

By the time we finally settled on the couch, Star Wars playing on the screen, we’d put everything else aside—as if we were just an old group of friends spending time together. Breathing the same air. Existing in the same room.

It wasn’t happiness.

But it was company.

And that night, that was enough.