Page 74 of Finding Noah

Her eyes softened as her gaze fell once again to my lips. “No, Noah. I don't think you're a little kid. Not anymore.”

Satisfied, I nodded. “So, does that mean you wanna come and have dinner with my parents and little brother?”

“Do I get to play video games with you afterward?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “But you might have to fight Dad for his controller.”

“Your dad's really big,” she said. “I don't know that I can take him.”

“Don't worry,” I replied, letting go to grab her hand, leading her to my car. “I'll teach you how to kick his ass.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE PAST: RESURRECTED

AGE TWENTY-SIX

In my life, I'd experienced few relationships that had come to me easily.

Not including those with my mom and grandparents.

My relationship with Soldier Mason was one of them. Within a few months of us meeting, he had effortlessly become Dad. Of course, that road hadn't been without its challenges and trauma, but not once had we been anything other than father and son.

My friendship with Jay was the same. Easy, effortless, and although we’d gotten into our share of trouble over the years, Officer Williams had become the best partner I could’ve asked for in the force.

But—and I thought it went without saying—nothing had come quite as easily as my romance with Meg Kinney.

And, man, it moved quickly.

Two months in, she asked me to move into the apartment she rented above old, decrepit Mrs. Montgomery's garage.

A year in, I asked her to marry me, and although she said she wanted a long engagement, there was no chance of her saying no.

Three years in, I decided I wanted to work toward becoming a detective.

Four years in, we bought a house in what we both—at the time—thought was the perfect location … right around the corner from both her parents and mine.

And while I had never at any time felt anything but content in my relationship with her, something else had come easily too.

A restlessness.

A sort of discontent with this quiet life we'd created for ourselves, in a house that needed far more work than either of us had been equipped for. But with the help of our fathers and her uncles, it was coming along. Not without its own headaches, but it was happening, little by little, as much as our bank account would allow.

But do we want to blow every penny we have on this place?

The thought crossed my mind regularly, just as it did now, as I watched TV after we'd returned from dinner at her dad's house.

Money was tight right now, with everything we'd been dumping into this house, and dinners were often had at her parents' place or mine. It wasn't that I minded. I loved my parents, of course, and her dad and stepmom had become like a second set of parents to me. But it was the routine of it all that sent me spiraling sometimes. The predictable outcome of every single day.

Meg came out of the kitchen after putting away leftovers Kinsey—her stepmother—had sent us home with, which would, as usual, be tomorrow's lunch. She unwound her curls from the messy bun she'd worn all day, and a smile tugged at my lips as they fell around her face, a waterfall of twists and turns and pathways I lived to wrap myself in.

God, it hurt how much I loved her.

She was the only reason I did all of this. Her and her alone.

And most days, it felt like enough.

“What?” she asked, catching my eye.