Chapter <b>548 </b>


    It’s even worse for him because no one saw iting. No one predicted it. One minute she was okay and the next she was gone. He never had time to prepare. To process her illness or her death. I doubt he ever epted death.


    “You haven’t told me why you are here,” he says as he pushes away from me, seeming to back <i>to </i>his


    normal self.


    I don’t know how long it had been, but I also didn’t care. He now seemed moreposed. I could still see


    the pain in his gray eyes, but he was better. Almost like releasing some of the pain he had been holding had helped a little.


    My legs were numb from kneeling, so I shoved aside the scattered bottles and sat next to him.


    “Your mom was worried about you,” I say quietly.


    He lets out a short, mockingugh. “So, she sent you?”


    “Yup.”


    “Of all people.” He sounds genuinely surprised. It’s like he just couldn’t believe that his mom would send <ol><li>me. </li></ol>


    “I know, right?” Iugh. “I asked the same thing.”


    We fall silent. I’m not surprised, though; Noah and I rarely interacted so it not a surprise that we didn’t have anything to talk about.


    Then, unexpectedly, he pulled a stash from his pocket. Lit it and then took a slow drag.


    “That’s not good for you,” I mutter, eyeing him worriedly. “I thought you quit.”


    Things were hard for him after Chloe’s death. He spiraled. He fell into depression, became an alcoholic and even started doing drugs. His parents had to take him for rehabilitation after he wrecked his car one day driving home while high.


    “I did,” he says. “But today… I need something to ground me. Something to take the edge off. Something to help me cope with the pain. Alcohol wasn’t doing shit.”


    To my surprise, he offers me one. I’ve never smoked before. But against my better judgment, I take it, bring it to my lips and inhale.


    I cough violently as my body tries to fight the foreign substance. Tears stinging my eyes as the smoke invades my lungs. <b>It </b>burns like hell.


    Noah barely nces at me before turning back to the city view below.


    “The twins turned five a few weeks ago,” he begins. “She had everything nned for their big five. Down to thest detail. Today just hit hard. She won’t be there to watch them grow up. To see all their


    milestones. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were supposed to grow old together, Sierra. But I lost


    her. And she’s noting back.”


    I want to say something, but what can I say? Nothing I do or say will make things easier or better for him. Instead, I take another drag, this time it’s much easier.


    “Does it make me selfish that I wish it had been me who died?” he asks softly “That way I wouldn’t be the


    one going through this constant pain.”


    “It doesn’t make you selfish, Noah,” I reply. “It makes you human.”


    If you had asked me whether I could imagine sitting with Noah, smoking and talking like normal people,


    I would have said hell no. But here we were. It’s foreign. It’s different… And almost peaceful.


    We start talking about Chloe. Our memories of her. They were all mixed. There were happy ones and sad


    ones. We talk for what seemed like forever. By the time we stop, I feel lightheaded and I am probably high.


    The air between us isfortable, something that has never happened.


    Through the haze and foggy mind, I realized that I hadn’t called or texted Aunt Ava to let her know that I


    had found Noah.


    I’d done what I promised. It was time to go home.


    I’ve never been this rxed before. I felt so happy. Sure, everything felt slow and distorted, but who cares


    when I feel so good?


    I stand up and immediately stumble. The world around me is spinning… And why the hell did the


    distance between me and my car seem longer? Also, what was up with the burst of colors? Why did they


    seem brighter than they should be?


    “Where are you going?” Noah’s voice sounds so far away.


    “Home,” I reply. “I’ll text Aunt Ava to let her know that I found you.”


    I don’t look back, just turn <i>to </i>leave, a strange, happy excitement bubbling inside me. I just wanted to get


    home and cuddle with ckie,


    With that in mind, I take a step forward but then–I am stopped.


    Frowning, I turn and find Noah holding my hand.


    “Don’t go,” he begs, voice rough and vulnerable.


    “Noah-”


    “Please don’t go, don’t leave me,” he pleads. “Just for one night… help me forget. I want to feel alive again. I want to forget the constant ache.”


    My frown fades when I meet his storm–grey eyes. He looks so lost. So desperate.


    I want to help him. But who is going to help me when he decides I no longer have any use?