Page 49 of His Greatest Muse
I’ve never known Oakley Hutton to be a chicken shit. He’s lived a successful career as a professional athlete, and I know that takes more than just skill. It takes endless courage. Yet when it comes to his son, something keeps holding him back.
Not for the first time, I wonder if something more happened between the father and son than I’m aware of.
The sound of footsteps draws our attention. Maddox comes into view. Alone.
“Everything okay?” I ask. Why isn’t Noah with him?
Maddox lifts a shoulder. It’s a tired movement. A defeated one. My anxiety skyrockets.
I jump to my feet and start toward where Maddox came from. “I’m going to find him.”
Nobody tells me not to. They know better than to waste their time. Mumbles sound behind me as I walk quickly, but I tune them out. Like always, when it comes to Noah, nobody else matters. It’s always been us. Best friends from birth until the end of time.
Reaching the bottom of the basement stairs, I take a long look around the room. Memories,so many of them, rush at me from every direction. Movie nights, girl talks with Adalyn and Ava. Long hours spent helping Noah write songs and perfect chords that fit those songs we created like a glove.
I sigh and head toward the open door of Noah’s room, expecting to find him there. I don’t doubt the door is usually kept shut.
When I find him standing in the centre of the room, his fingers tangled tightly in the hair at the back of his skull, I close the distance between us. The black walls around us are so different than they used to be. Once decorated with ripped notebook paper and shelves of Noah’s favourite records, they’re now covered in . . . well, Noah.
Unable to help myself, I pause at his back and slowly, carefully, slide my arms along his sides, holding him in a hug that I hope he finds some comfort in. His sudden inhale as I clasp my hands at his front, resting them against his abdomen, is the only reaction I get.
I press my cheek to the space between his shoulder blades and close my eyes, inhaling his scent. “I saw Maddox come up alone.”
“Does it bother you that I’m not like my brother?” he asks, surprising me.
I hide my confusion. “Not at all. Why would you ask me that?” No response. “I’ve never wanted you to be anyone but yourself. Is this because of your dad?”
“Does it matter?” His voice is so cold, detached.
“Of course it does. Your feelingsmatter, Noah.”
“To you,” he rasps. “They matter to you.”
My chest tightens, his words wrapping a fist around my heart and squeezing. How can he sound so surprised by that? Fuck, that makes me sad.
“They always have.”
He leans back into my touch, a deep sound rumbling in his chest, the vibrations warming my hands. My fingers tighten around themselves as I keep myself from stroking his abdomen through his T-shirt. The moment is all wrong, but fuck, I want to do it. Clearly, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve ever touched his chest, but if I gave in to my curiosity right now, feeling the way I am, it would besovery different.
Little by little, he’s giving some slack to the tight rope wrapped around his restraint. The knowledge of that shouldn’t affect me nearly as much as it does. I can’t take advantage of that.
Suddenly, I remember his promise from the other night.
You’re mine, and you’ll realize that soon.Like every time I’ve repeated those words in my mind, I feel myself grow antsy with the urge to find out justexactlywhat being his would be like.
But I don’t allow myself to think about that too much. Not when I know he’s so clearly struggling. This much hurt inside of one person is bound to destroy them. It’s too heavy to carry alone. Hell, it’s too heavy for even two people, but I’d endure the weight of it for him.
“I gave the bedroom on the bus to Justice and his daughter.”
My eyes grow wide. “You what?”
“Shouldn’t have done it without asking you. You can be pissed at me.”
I roll my forehead to his back and release a breathy laugh as I squeeze him tighter. “You want me to be pissed that under all of this thick, spiky exterior of yours, you’re really just a big-ass teddy bear?”
His reply is deep and growly and makes me giggle. “That’s insulting.”
“If you say so,” I sing.