Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Noah

That night, sleep eluded me completely.

I spent what felt like hours on the phone with Emily, trying desperately to soothe her from over a thousand miles away. I clung to every breathing exercise Aiden had patiently taught me this week, hoping it would ease the tightness in my chest. But no matter how many deep breaths I took, the feeling of suffocation lingered stubbornly.

As Emily’s voice dropped to a fragile whisper, she told me about how he’d been on edge all week—short-tempered, snapping at anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. Hearing her recount it stirred that familiar ache inside me, the same heavy pull I’d felt countless times before. It was the exact sensation that always pushed me to step forward, to take the blows so she wouldn’t have to bear them.

That had been the unspoken rule in our home.

Dad drowned his frustrations in alcohol. Mom tried to fade into the background, as invisible as she could. Emily retreated, hiding wherever she could find refuge. And me? I became the shield—the one who absorbed the storm, the one who could stand firm when everything else shattered.

It hadn’t always been this way.

At first, his anger was unpredictable, swinging wildly. Sometimes it was Mom who caught the brunt, other times Emily if she happened to be nearby. But I quickly learned that if I stepped in—if I placed myself between him and the others—he’d turn his fury toward me instead. Without fail.

So I made it my mission.

I became an expert at reading the subtle signs: the heavy thud of his footsteps echoing down the hallway, the sharp clink of the bottle striking the counter with more force than usual, the low murmur that preceded his rising voice. I’d intercept him before he could reach them, throwing out a sarcastic remark, a shove, anything to redirect his rage onto myself.

And he always took the bait.

Eventually, it became almost automatic. If he was angry or drunk, his eyes locked onto me immediately. That seething rage, that venomous hatred—it had a permanent home. Almost always, it was mine to endure.

Living like that was a nightmare. But it meant Mom could breathe a little easier when he walked in the room, and Emily could fall asleep without hearing his screams echoing in her mind.

By the time I left for Texas, his abuse was nearly all directed at me. I convinced myself that if I wasn’t there, they’d be safe. I never imagined he’d simply find someone else to break.

When morning came, it felt as though I hadn’t rested at all. My head throbbed relentlessly, my limbs felt heavy and uncooperative, and my focus was shredded to pieces.

I shook my head slowly. “Nah. I just… need some time alone.”

“Alone?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “No offense, man, but you’ve been ghosting us for weeks. You can’t just lock yourself in your dorm every night after practice.”

I shrugged, trying to sound confident. “I’ve got it under control.”

“Maybe,” he said, watching me carefully, “but that doesn’t mean you have to handle it by yourself. You know that, right?”

His words hit me harder than I expected, yet I stayed silent. “Really. I’m fine.”

He studied me a moment longer, as if debating whether to push further. Then he nodded slowly. “Okay. But I’m here. And so are the rest of the guys. Don’t forget that.”

I promised I wouldn’t forget, even though we both knew I probably would.