Chapter 2 NOAH

NOAH

I couldn't help but watch the mother and daughter as they left my office.

The woman walked with her back straight, her silhouette smooth and controlled. The legs beneath her jeans were long and straight, carrying a kind of tension that was impossible to ignore.

Sexy enough that, for a brief second. I almost forgot to breathe.

I'm not easily distracted-especially when I'm working. But in that moment, my attention did drift, if only briefly, from the medical chart to her.

There was something strangely familiar about her. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

Was it her scent?

Those light brown eyes?

Or was it simply a memory I had deliberately sealed away, now quietly trying to claw its way back to the surface?

I gave a soft snort and shoved the thought aside, nodding to the medical assistant.

"Who's the next patient?"

My schedule was packed today. I didn't have time for irrelevant distractions.

It wasn't until the afternoon-after I'd finished my last consultation-that my phone vibrated.

Caller ID: William Anderson.

I didn't need to check the notes to know who it was.

William Anderson-the "organizer" of our class, and one of the heirs to the Anderson family.

His father was a major real estate investor active between New York and the Bay Area. His mother came from East Coast old money and worked in art collection and gallery management. Even now, the Anderson name could still be found on Dartmouth's board of trustees.

On campus, William had always been good at reallocating resources and maintaining relationships-fraternity events, alumni gatherings, charity galas. Whenever a "presentable face" was needed, it was usually him.

And me?

I was the one who didn't need to show up-yet somehow always stood at the center.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hey, Noah." William's voice was as relaxed as ever, carrying the effortless confidence of someone who'd been giving orders since childhood. "How've you been?"

"Fine." I leaned against my desk, my tone clipped.

"We're organizing a class reunion next week," he said. "Long Island. My family's old beachfront estate. Most of the fraternity guys will be there-pretty much everyone still operating on the East Coast."

Of course they would.

It wasn't a reunion.

It was a resource check.

Who was still in the circle.

Who had fallen behind.

Who was worth continued investment.

Everyone knew the rules.

"Honestly," William went on, laughing lightly, "the person everyone really wants to see is you-especially the women. They've been calling you out in the group chat. They're dying to see how sexy that womanizing bastard from back then looks now that he's a doctor."

I didn't respond.

His voice kept flowing, but my mind had latched onto a single image-the woman's back as she walked away.

She moved fast, but the curve of her hips felt deliberately provocative. Those damn jeans clung tightly to muscle and shape, like a second skin.

I leaned back in my chair, my Adam's apple bobbing as I tried to suppress the primitive restlessness stirring in my body.

It didn't work.

A faint heat pooled low in my abdomen, something twitching there without permission.

I closed my eyes and sucked in a sharp breath.

Fuck.

I wasn't an eighteen-year-old slave to hormones anymore.

But the moment her shadow drew near, I felt like a wild animal shoved back into a cage.

"You and Emma Cooper are the only two who've never shown up."

I said nothing. My mind felt hollowed out.

"Noah? You still there? Bad signal?"

My eyes dropped to the pen on my desk.

A black fountain pen, thin gold trim along the barrel.

I'd used it for seven years.

The paint was nearly worn off, yet I'd never replaced it.

In that instant, memory burst through like a ruptured dam.

It was my birthday.

That night, I accepted Emma's "deal."

We both knew it was an unfair agreement. She thought offering herself would buy her a moment of tenderness. I agreed outwardly, said nothing-but inside, something stirred.

Because, if I'm honest.

I had feelings for her.

She was quiet. Never loud, never demanding. Labeled "Fat Emma" on campus, yet her face was unsettlingly delicate-especially her eyes.

Brown.

As if they held words she never quite spoke.

She didn't belong to our circle. She always sat by the window on the third floor of the library, sleeves pulled over her hands inside oversized sweaters. No one noticed her.

Except me.

I liked the way her gaze would dart away whenever I caught her looking at me.

I thought she'd hesitate that night.

She didn't.

She looked at me like she was using every ounce of courage she had.

"I know you won't really like me," she said. "So I'll just treat this as me doing something brave."

I thought she was just another forgettable girl.

That night, she redefined the word brave for me.

The next morning, she was gone.

On the bedside table sat a black velvet box. Inside was a pen. Beneath it, a small card.

Happy Birthday.

The pen wasn't cheap. I knew she worked part-time at the campus library-saving meal money just to afford Starbucks.

I stared at the card for a long time, the corner of my mouth lifting unconsciously.

I wanted to find her.

Wanted to be serious.

But I never got the chance.

Because that very night, my fraternity threw me a birthday party in a private room at Spago.

I hadn't expected Emma to be absent. Part of me waited-ridiculously-for her to appear at the door.

She didn't.

"What the hell, man?! Is that a hickey?" Joshua shouted deliberately.

I lifted my hand, instinctively touching my neck.

"Heard you took Fat Emma to a hotel-seriously?" Brian's eyes went wide.

Every fraternity brother was staring at me.

I could've told the truth.

That it was her.

That I initiated it.

That I wanted her to stay.

That she was the one who left.

But I didn't.

I was afraid.

"You didn't fall for her, did you? Jesus, are you insane?" Mike gagged theatrically.

They needed an answer.

One that fit the image of a Morgan heir.

One that could circulate easily at a drinking table.

"That kind of cheap, fat girl? I'd never date her."

I heard myself say it.

I wanted to throw up.

That wasn't what I meant.

It was never what I meant.

"I was just messing around. I'm leaving next month anyway."

I added the final stab myself-killing my last escape route.

The rest of the party passed in a haze. I drank too much, laughed too hard, my head splitting.

When I got home, I grabbed my phone, planning to ask her to meet me, to explain everything.

She had already blocked me.

For seven years, that memory had lodged itself in my chest like a nail. I'd never told anyone.

"Noah!!!" William's voice yanked me back to the present.

"She never showed up?" I asked, my voice dropping unconsciously.

"Never." William paused, then laughed in the crude, familiar way men like him always did. "But if she knew you were coming, she'd probably show. We all know how desperate she was for you back then. Though she was so fat-I doubt you'd even find the hole anymore."

My entire body went rigid.

My throat tightened. My teeth ground together.

For a split second, I nearly hurled my phone at the wall.

I could picture Anderson's smug, disgusting grin. Picture everyone laughing as he tossed out that "bro joke" in the group chat.

I clenched my fists, knuckles turning white.

I used to be one of them.

Now I just wanted to pin his face to the floor.

I swallowed the rage burning in my throat, said nothing, and hung up.

Click.

The quiet consultation room held only me.

I stared out the window at the sky turning faintly yellow, a block of fire lodged in my throat, burning my chest from the inside.

I was in a hospital.

I was wearing a white coat.

I was the youngest cardiothoracic consultant in the building.

I couldn't lose my temper.

But I really fucking. wanted to kill someone.

And yet-

I decided I would attend that stupid reunion.