Broken Promises

70 | blake

I run a hand through my hair as I dial Noah's number once again, closing my eyes tightly as I pray that he'll answer. I'm not surprised when the phone rings and rings and rings, then goes to voicemail. I've been met with his voice mailbox every time I've called him since this morning.

"Hey, Noah," I murmur to beginning recording yet another voicemail, "it's me again. Sorry to keep calling you, but I'm really worried about you. I mean, the way you ran out this morning, and . . ." I trail off, trying to contain my emotion. "Anyway, please just call me back when you get this. Don't forget that I lo—" A beep on the other line signifies the message is full before I get to finish my sentence. I glance down at my phone wearily, frowning as I whisper, "Don't forget that I love you."

I fall back on my bed with a sigh, trying not to think of last night. For me, last night had been perfect. It was everything I'd wanted my first time to be, and that was all thanks to Noah. He'd been slow and gentle and loving, holding me in his arms afterward until I'd fallen asleep.

Then everything went wrong.

I remember waking up to the sound of Noah's voice, finding him running around his room as if he'd forgotten where he was. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew Noah was running out and muttering something about his mother, a car accident, and calling me later.

I'm not completely sure what happened, though I know Noah would never act the way he had if something wasn't serious. The worry I've felt since this morning has been eating at me ever since, making me feel sick. It doesn't help matters that Noah won't answer his phone and no one else seems to have a clue as to what's going on, so I've been kept in the dark ever since the sun came up.

A little voice in the back of my head whispers thoughts I don't want to hear. I know something bad happened—to Noah's mother, I assume—and that he had to leave in a hurry, but a part of me is pained at the situation he left me in. I have no right to be thinking this way at this time, yet I can't stop thinking of how it felt to watch Noah run out on me, leaving me all alone at his house in the early hours of the morning with my clothes strewn around his bedroom floor.

I vividly recall the moments that followed. I'd pulled myself out of Noah's bed and slipped into my clothes from the night before like I was about to do the walk of shame. I'd called him maybe a million times as I simply waited in his room, as if he were going to come back. The worry got to me about an hour after he left without returning, not having heard from him since he walked out. I'd cried like a baby for no good reason, besides the fact that I knew something terrible had happened and the person I needed most to calm me down was gone and not coming back anytime soon.

I feel pathetic. Pathetic and selfish. What right do I have to be so upset over something I can't control? Why can't I focus on the fact that Noah is hurting? Why does my mind choose to torture me by reminding me of the way I had given him my body, only to have him leave me in a flash the first moment he had the chance? Deep down, I know it wasn't like that. Noah wasn't leaving me just because he'd gotten what he wanted from me and now has no use for me. Yet I can't shake the fear that maybe it was like that.

I shoot up in my bed as my phone starts to ring, thinking it's Noah. I grab my phone without bothering to check the caller ID before answering. "Hello?"

"Hi, sweetie," a distinctly female voice greets me, sounding worn and shaken. I pull the phone away from my ear to find that I'm talking to Caroline, not Noah. My heart sinks a little, but I tell myself that he'll call eventually. He'll come back. He's not going anywhere. He promised.

"Hey," I murmur. "I'm glad to hear from you. Maybe you can tell me what's going on?"

Caroline hesitates before saying, "I have some bad news. I don't know if you've had the chance to talk to Noah or not yet, so I'll just start from the beginning. When Noah's mother was driving home last night, she got into a car accident. A drunk driver passed into the wrong lane and hit her head-on. It's . . . it's pretty bad, Blake. She's been unconscious since they brought her in a few hours ago, and she's in critical condition. They think she's experiencing head trauma and internal bleeding. They've prepped her for surgery, and she just went. We're praying for the best, but we're all so worried . . ." Caroline trails off, seemingly unable to finish her sentence.

My heart stops. My breathing becomes shallow. My mind races a mile a minute. It's no wonder Noah abruptly ran out this morning. How could I have been so selfish and insecure, worrying that Noah ran out on me, when in reality this is one of the moments he might need me most?

"Oh my God," I say under my breath. "That's awful. Caroline . . ."

"I know," Caroline says. "Matt and I have been down here for hours. Noah's been here about just as long. He's hurting, Blake."

"Is he with you?" I ask. I think about the voicemails and missed calls and texts I've sent Noah, and how I might finally get to talk to him now.

"He's with me and his father in the waiting room."

"Do you think I could talk to him?"

"Sure thing. Give me a minute." I hear shuffling on Caroline's end, someone speaking, their voice muffled. It's quiet for a brief moment, then more shuffling. Finally, I hear Caroline say, "Um . . . I'm sorry, Blake. Noah doesn't seem to want to talk right now. He told me he'll call you when he gets a chance."

For some reason, this feels like a slap to my face. Noah doesn't want to talk to me. From what I can tell, it's pretty clear he's been dodging my calls. I know that he probably needs space and that he's going through a rough time, yet that doesn't seem to stop my eyes from pricking with tears and my vision from going blurry. I'm overwhelmed with emotion as I think about Noah's mother and how he must be feeling. How he doesn't want to talk to me. There are two ways people react to situations such as this one: they either push people away, or pull them in closer. I pray that Noah won't ice me out now, that he will let me be there for him when he needs someone the most.

"Oh," I mutter, my voice hoarse. "Oh. Um, that's okay then. I guess I'll just talk to him later."

I hang up with Caroline shortly afterwards, pursing my lips as I stare at my phone and wonder how a night so perfect could turn into a day so horrid.

Dropping my phone onto my mattress, I release the tears I've been trying to hold in. I find myself thinking that if I feel this terribly, I can only imagine what Noah must be going through right now.

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a/n: hello my lovely readers i am thankful for all of you