Page 84 of Thin Ice

Noah takes a page out of my book and plays with his wedding band nervously. Red splotches appear at the collar of his shirt. I have no doubt everything inside him is telling him to bolt, but his butt stays planted on the couch. I’m proud of him for it.

“I think you know what I wish I could redo,” he says to Beck.

The other man’s features are pinched. “I don’t, actually.”

Noah huffs out a breath and gives Beck a look that says, You do know, but Beck doesn’t crack.

Noah sighs. “Our last conversation on graduation day. That’s what I wish I could redo.”

“Explain,” Beck prods, the tone of his voice commanding enough that even I sit straighter in my seat.

“When I told you the other day I was sorry for what happened between us, I meant it. We were young, and we had so much of our future ahead of us.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Noah snaps.

Beck doesn’t speak, the tension between the two of them increasing until I’m clenching my jaw along with them.

“I was afraid,” Noah says after a long pause. “I never told you, but that morning, my dad took me out to breakfast, and he…let’s just say he made me think I wasn’t playing my best during our final games at school.”

“Don’t blame your dad for everything you said to me,” Beck growls. “He didn’t make you tell me we weren’t dating, that we were just fucking and had no future. That our time together was just two guys having fun and ‘figuring their shit out’ as you so eloquently put it.”

Nausea curls low in my gut as I finally hear some of what Noah said to Beck that night. His anger makes a lot more sense now, and I feel for him. I feel for both of them.

Noah grinds his teeth, hazel eyes filled with past hurt. “I’m not blaming him.”

“It sounds like you are.”

Noah runs a frustrated hand through his hair, and part of me wants to go and comfort him. But he and Beck need to have this moment, and Noah needs to sit in everything he’s feeling right now.

“I was a chicken shit, alright?”

“You don’t say,” Beck mocks.

Noah stands, gesturing wildly. “I was a coward—is that what you want to hear?”

Beck gets up, and the two men stand almost toe-to-toe, Beck staring down Noah with fire in his eyes. Much like how I found them in the gym the other night.

“I want to hear your answer to the question,” he barks.

The two of them breathe in synchronized huffs, their hands clenched at their sides. Noah’s skin gets redder by the second, and it takes me no time at all to realize he’s panicking.

I shift on the couch to stand and put a pause on this conversation but stop when Beck’s muscles ease and he lifts a hand up to cup Noah’s heated cheek.

“Take a breath,” he mutters, his tone still angry but breaking down.

It takes a few seconds that feel like minutes, but Noah does as he’s told, sucking in air through his nose.

“Good,” Beck praises. “Now again.”

My husband’s chest rises and falls, the muscles of his face easing with each breath.

“Tell me what you would redo, Noah. I need to hear it.”

Beck’s hand remains on Noah’s cheek, his thumb tenderly brushing his cheekbone. I can’t look away from them. Noah’s entire demeanor is calmer now that Beck has taken charge. It’s a reminder of last night, the way that Noah and I connected—how he wanted me to be in charge and everything that was said and done between us.

Noah wets his lips, his gaze leaving Beck’s briefly to find mine. I nod at him, unsure what permission I’m giving, but it’s sweet that he checked in with me and didn’t forget I’m here. It’s a connection I didn’t know I needed right now but I’m grateful for.