Noah (Angel Institute #7)

Chapter 13

Thirteen

NOAH

A s Will’s words settle in the air, I feel a strange mix of emotions. The impact of his message lingers, resonating deep within my soul at the same time. I’m not sure what to say or do with Paige.

The trailer feels quiet, almost too quiet. I’m acutely aware of Paige’s presence beside me, her warmth a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in my bones during my parents’ visit. I turn to look at her, and the concern in her eyes makes my heart constrict.

“Noah,” she says softly, reaching out to snuggle against me. “Are you okay?”

The simple question, laced with genuine care, nearly undoes me. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I... I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Paige nods, her hand still on my arm, anchoring me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Part of me wants to say no, to brush it off and pretend everything’s fine. But a larger part, the part that’s been awakened by Will’s words and Paige’s unwavering support, knows that I need to face this head-on.

“Yeah,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I think I do.”

Paige guides me to the small bench by the window. As we sit down, our shoulders touching lightly, I’m struck by how natural it feels to be close to her. The scent of her perfume mingles with the familiar smells of leather and metal that permeate the trailer. It’s like she’s a part of my life here and always has been.

I want to keep it that way. I want her to feel comfortable with me—always. I’m not sure that’s possible with the parents I have, but I hope it is.

“They’ve always been like that,” I begin, my voice low. “It’s always comparisons to my siblings or not-so-subtle hints about how I’m wasting my potential.”

As I speak, the words start to tumble out, years of pent-up frustration and hurt spilling over. I tell Paige about growing up in the shadow of my high-achieving siblings and not being able to keep up. I’m wired differently from them, and that’s not my fault. It’s not something to blame on someone either—it’s just how I’m made. I tell her about the constant pressure to be something I’m not. I talk about the dreams I gave up, the parts of myself I buried deep, all in an attempt to gain my parents’ approval.

Paige listens quietly, her presence a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. When I finally fall silent, emotionally drained, she squeezes my hand gently.

“Noah,” she says, her voice filled with a fierce conviction that makes me look up. “You know that’s not true, right? You’re doing amazing things here. This skate rental brings joy to almost everyone in Benton Falls every single year. You’re a part of so many families’ traditions. Not to mention that co-chairing the parade is all about bringing joy to the holidays. You are not wasting your potential—you’re fulfilling it. Can you feel that? Does doing these things make you happy?”

“Yes.” I turn to meet her gaze. “These last few weeks have been the happiest of my life. But—.”

“But what?” she gently prods.

“I don’t know if that’s because of the parade or because of you. I’m falling for you, and that feels incredible.” I lean my forehead against hers.

She whimpers and then kisses me. “Me too.”

As I look at Paige, her face is sincere and caring, and I feel something shift inside me. The weight of my parents’ disapproval, which has been a constant presence for so long, seems a little lighter. I watch the light play on her golden hair, and I run my fingers through it. It is just as I thought—silk. I trace the curve of her cheek, and her eyes grow warmer. She leans into me, and I capture her lips in a kiss that’s been building inside of me.

She responds, and I’m no longer thinking about anything but her. We pull apart, needing air, and grin at one another. “You are so beautiful.” I trace her cheek again.

“Beautiful and antsy.” She hops up and pulls me with her. “Let’s close this place up and go have some fun.”

I laugh. She is just what I need and, more importantly, want in my life. “We’re open for another hour, and then I’m all yours.”

She pouts playfully. “Fine. I can wait that long.” She looks around as if a little lost. “What can I help with?”

For the next hour, we sort through paperwork and organize equipment, our hands occasionally brushing, sending little jolts of electricity through me each time. I find myself hyper aware of Paige’s presence, of the way she moves, the sound of her voice, the feel of her sweater brushing against my arm as she puts skates on the rack next to me.

The last customers of the day return their skates, smiles on their faces as they recount their adventures on the ice to Paige, who has a knack for talking to anyone. She makes them all feel important, even though I know she’s anxious to get out of here.

Her stomach keeps growling.

I will not point it out and have been ignoring it completely. But I think it’s cute.

I count out the register while Paige wipes off the counter. She stops at the calendar on my wall. I’ve circled the date of the Christmas Parade in red. She taps the page and then comes to stand by me.

“We’re almost ready for the parade, aren’t we?” Paige says, coming to stand beside me. She’s close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her body, and it takes all my willpower not to reach out and pull her closer.

“Yeah,” I agree, my voice softer than I intended. “We have some loose ends to tie up, but we’re close.”

I think about Will’s enthusiastic help this morning, about Paige’s unwavering support, about the way the town has come together to plan this event. And I realize that, despite my parents’ doubts, I’m exactly where I need to be.

As we finish locking up, I pause to look out over the frozen pond. The ice gleams in the fading light, a perfect mirror for the first stars beginning to appear in the darkening sky. It’s a view I’ve seen countless times before, but tonight, with Paige beside me, it feels different. More vibrant. More alive.

“It’s so pretty?” Paige says softly, her shoulder brushing against mine.

“Yeah,” I reply, but I’m not looking at the pond anymore. I’m looking at her, at the way the last rays of sunlight paint her profile in shades of gold and rose. “Gorgeous.”

Paige turns, catching me staring. She leans into me, and I kiss her softly. “Can I... can I walk you to your car?” It’s cold out here, and she’s already shivering.

Paige smiles, and the warmth in her eyes chases away some of the evening chill. “I’d like that.”

As we make our way across the park, our breaths form little clouds in the frigid air. I reach out and brush a snowflake from her cheek. “Meet me at the bakery? They’re serving pizza rolls tonight.”

“I’ll be there.” My ride to the baker is quiet, and I’m back in that contemplative state I started the day with—only now I have ten times as much to ponder.

I’m content-ish in life. I do enjoy the ice rink, and what Paige said about being a part of people’s Christmas traditions gives it meaning. I’ve enjoyed the parade planning, too—although that may have more to do with Paige’s partnership than anything. I think I’d walk to the moon for her and enjoy every step.

I can’t avoid the fact that the only thing that truly feeds my soul is drawing.

Paige found a way to turn her passion into her career, and if I stop caring about what my parents think of me and start living the life God created me to live, then …

I’m not even sure I can picture that kind of life or that level of happiness. I think I’ve been so scared to allow myself to even believe that all that was out there in the world—let alone that it was there for me—that I convinced myself it wasn’t possible.

What does that do to a soul? What has it done to me?

It’s limited me. And, if Paige and Will are right about my art being a way for God to express Himself through me, then I’ve limited God, too.

What if I let Him loose and give Him free rein?

Oh my gosh—that’s a little terrifying. Isn’t it? I don’t feel terrified. I’m excited.

I think I will. I will let God loose in my art and see what happens.

I pull into a parking spot. The smell of pizza rolls—made like a cinnamon roll but with pizza toppings and red sauce instead of cinnamon and sugar—fills my car. I turn it off and hop out, ready to spend the evening with a beautiful woman who—for some reason—thinks I’m amazing.

Maybe God had something to do with that, too.