Chapter 49 Chapter 49
Noah's POV
The silence didn’t break. It was heavy and thick around us. Her words were still there, hanging between us like something physical, like I could reach out and touch them, like I could shove them aside if I wanted to. But I didn’t, because I knew better. Some things, once said, don’t move that easily.
“This is exactly why I don’t trust people like you.”
People like you.
I have heard variations of that my entire life. From coaches, reporters and from people who decided who I was before I ever opened my mouth. They always called me reckless, unreliable and a problem. And usually, it didn’t bother me, because I leaned into it. It was easier to be exactly what they expected than to prove them wrong. But coming from her was different.
I didn’t react right away or snap. I didn’t throw something back at her just to even it out. That wasn’t what this was. This wasn’t a fight I wanted to win.
So I stood there, letting the silence stretch, letting her and myself feel it. She shifted slightly across from me, like she was already regretting it.
Her shoulders tightened in the way her hands flexed at her sides. Her breathing changed just slightly, but enough.
Good.
I wanted her to feel bad, but because I needed her to understand this wasn’t something she could just say and walk away from. I exhaled slowly and stepped back enough to create space. I needed it, because if I stayed too close right now, I wasn’t sure what I would say or how it would come out.
“You don’t trust me,” I said. My voice was steady. The kind of steady that comes when you’re holding something in place instead of letting it move.
Her eyes lifted to mine immediately. “I didn’t mean-”
I cut her off. “Don’t do that.”
Her brows pulled together. “Do what?”
“Take it back before we even talk about it.”
She swallowed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how did you mean it?”
She hesitated. That told me everything, because if it wasn’t true at all, she wouldn’t need to think about it.
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “That’s what I thought.”
She stepped forward like she was trying to close the space I had created.
“Noah-”
“You don’t trust me,” I repeated. And something in her expression shifted, because now it wasn’t about the argument anymore, it was about what sat underneath it.
“I-” she stopped and exhaled. “I don’t trust how you handle things.” That was more honest.
I let out a quiet breath. “Fair.”
Her eyes flickered. She didn’t expect that, she didn’t expect me to agree. “I didn’t say you’re a bad person,” she added quickly.
“You didn’t have to.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” And I did. That wasn’t what she was saying.
I leaned back against the edge of the counter, folding my arms loosely. Just… holding myself still. “You don’t trust how I handle things,” I said. “But you’re still here.”
Her lips parted slightly like she didn’t expect that direction. “That’s different.”
“How?” I asked.
“Because this...” she gestured between us, frustrated, and searching for the right words. “This is complicated.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”
“That doesn’t mean I trust you.”
“No. It doesn’t.” I agreed.
I pushed off the counter and stepped toward her again, but I didn’t touch her. “If you really didn’t trust me…” I said, my voice lower now, and steadier in a different way, “You wouldn’t be here.”
Her breath caught. She shook her head slightly. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s accurate.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is.”
“Noah-”
“You could leave.” The words weren’t aggressive or a challenge. They were just true. “You could walk out that door right now,” I continued. “You could request reassignment. You could cut this off completely.” Her jaw tightened. “But you’re not.”
“I have obligations,” she said.
“That’s not the only reason.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because I know what walking away looks like.” She didn't know that part of me, she didn’t know how many times I had chosen distance over anything real and how easy it used to be. But this wasn't easy.
“You’re still here,” I said again, quieter now. “And that matters.”
Her eyes dropped for a second before looking up at me again.
“I’m here because I have to be.”
“No. You’re here because you chose to stay.” I said.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is when you have options.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
She shook her head with frustration. “You don’t understand what this costs me.”
“I understand more than you think.”
“No, you don’t.” Her voice cracked slightly. “This isn’t just about feelings,” she said. “This is about my future, my credibility, and everything I’ve worked for.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you acting like this is simple?”
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you doing?”
I held her gaze. “Trying to understand why you’re still here if you don’t trust me.” Because it cut through everything else. She didn’t answer right away.
She hesitated. “You don’t get to simplify this,” she said, but her voice was quieter now.
“I’m not simplifying it.”
“You are.”
“No,” I said. “I’m focusing on the part you keep avoiding.”
“And what part is that?”
“This.” I gestured between us. Everything unspoken and obvious at the same time. Her breath hitched again. “You keep talking about control,” I said. “About your career. About perception.”
“Because those things matter.”
“They do.”
“Then stop acting like they don’t.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what?”
“I’m saying this matters too.”
Her eyes searched mine like she was trying to figure out what I meant. “This is exactly why I said what I said,” she murmured.
“Because you don’t trust it.”
“Because I don’t trust you not to make it worse.”
I nodded. “Fair.”
She frowned slightly. “You keep agreeing with me.”
“Because parts of what you’re saying are true.”
“And the rest?” she asked.
“The rest is fear.”
“That’s not fair,” she said again.
“It is.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m not deciding it,” I said quietly. “I’m seeing it.”
“I don’t trust this,” she said.
I nodded slowly.
“I know.”
“And that’s not something I can just fix.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Then what are you asking?”
I held her gaze. “That you stop pretending it’s not there.”
Her breath faltered again. She didn’t hide it. Everything else disappeared. And the space between us that felt anything but empty. She didn’t step back. I exhaled slowly and stepped back again. Giving her space this time. She watched me.
We didn’t resolve anything. And as I watched her standing there, she still chose not to leave and that told me everything.