Chapter 489
Noah took a deep breath, nodding. "You're right."
"And then there's your father," he mused after a beat of silence. "He thought he was protecting you, setting you up for a safe future by arranging our marriage, but... he never really stopped to think about what you were getting into. He never took the time to get to know the man he was making business deals with, and it hurt you in the end."
Noah's jaw tightened at that. "Maybe you were hurt the most out of all of us," he finished. I shuddered a little, thinking back to my death.
The pain of that experience still haunted me every night. Some nights, though I didn't tell anyone, not even Noah, I woke up in a cold sweat... thinking that I'd died again.
Noah, sensing my discomfort, touched my arm. "All I want," he said quietly, "is for Melody to feel free. To have choices. She shouldn't have to be anything other than who she wants to be. No decisions made for her, not unless she wants it. No arranged marriages." A warmth spread through me as his words sank in. "I'm glad we're on the same page in that aspect."
The fire continued to crackle softly in the silence that ensued. For a long moment, I just rested my head against his shoulder, inhaling his scent. I still savored it as often as I could; after all, I'd spent so long thinking that we'd never see each other again. But after a while, a thought began to nag at me-speaking of Noah's father. "Have you thought about seeing him?" I asked carefully, glancing up at him.
"My father?" Noah asked. When I nodded, he immediately took a big sip of his drink as if steeling himself just at the mention of the man. I remained silent. He hadn't visited his father, Scott, or Zoe in prison. Not even once. And he talked about all of them as sparingly as possible.
He was quiet for a long time, his eyes distant. Finally he said, "I don't know, Hannah. Part of me thinks it would help, if I visited him in prison. To get some closure, maybe. But then... I'm not sure I can look him in the eye."
I placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face toward me yet again. "You don't owe him anything. You don't have to go. But if you feel like you need to talk to him, if it would help you in some way... then you know I'll be here to support you in that."
His eyes softened, his hand reaching up to cover mine. "How do you always know what to say?"
"Because I know you," I whispered, my thumb brushing gently over his cheek. "And I love you."
A small, grateful smile touched his lips at that. He leaned in, his lips finding mine. His kiss was gentle, the barest brush of his lips against mine. "I love you too, Hannah. My eternal moonlight."
half- As he spoke, his hands slipped down to my waist, pulling me closer beneath the blanket. I set my finished drink aside and moved against him easily, wrapping my legs around him and settling into his lap, facing him.
Gently and tentatively, I looped my arms around his neck and breathed him in, grateful for his warmth. He kissed me again, and again, and again, each one deeper and slower and more intense than the last.
Then, slowly, he lowered me down onto the couch and pressed me between the solld frame of his body and the cushions, Together, we tangled up around one another beneath the blanket, a tangle of limbs and lips.
The heat of the fire warmed our skin that night, but our hearts warmed each other from the inside.
As you Thes
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