The Sky We Seek (Love and Other Dreams #2)

Chapter 31

Elina

I pace back and forth in the bedroom of my cabin. Abruptly, I stop in front of the mirror and gaze into it with a serious expression.

"We need to talk, Noah," I say.

No, that's not a good approach. It's not the right way to start.

"Do you trust me?" I ask my reflection, my voice soft and encouraging, nodding slightly.

"Why did you lie to me?" I tilt my head to the side, pushing my lower lip forward a little.

As if on their own, my eyebrows rise. "Did you lie to me?" I ask impatiently. "Out with it, Noah."

Tense, I run my hands through my hair. How the hell am I supposed to have this conversation with Noah? I don't want to sound accusatory or sensationalist. I don't want him to feel cornered, and by no means should he suspect that I believe what Clara told me today.

My phone rings. It's Maya.

If I answer now, she'll hear that something is wrong. And she'll explain how right she was when she warned me from the beginning.

I'm already confused enough, so it's better not to take the call.

Then I fixate on my reflection once again. I want to say something, but the words elude me. "Damn," is all that comes to mind before I start moving again. I pace back and forth in front of the bed. My hands alternate between clenched fists and striking my thighs uncontrollably.

What if it's true?

His tough exterior. The reserved manner in which I first met him. The feeling that he carries a secret. Julian. It all fits together.

What if I confront him and he confirms that Clara wasn't lying?

I quit biting my nails years ago. But I catch myself sticking my index finger in my mouth and biting down so hard on the nail that I immediately have nail polish flakes on my tongue.

There's a knock on the door. Rooted to the spot, I stand between the bed and the wardrobe.

Could that be Noah?

No. We don't have plans, and he's not the type for surprise visits. "You're being ridiculous, Elina," I admonish myself and walk to the hallway to open the door.

"Noah."

He takes a step toward me with a warm smile and embraces me. "Did you see a ghost?" he asks, gently swaying me back and forth.

Maybe. "Um..."

His forehead wrinkles. "You don't like surprises. I'm sorry."

He immediately lets go of me, and in that same instant, I already miss his closeness. "Actually, I love surprises," I mumble as if I've lost my mind. I've practiced for hours in front of the mirror, rehearsing what I'll say when we meet again. But this sentence wasn't part of it.

His expression brightens. "That works out perfectly because I'm here to whisk you away."

I raise an eyebrow. "Whisk me away?"

"To a magical place," he replies mysteriously. "You just need sturdy shoes, a jacket, and a few hours of time."

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't suppress a smile. He has something beautiful planned. Just for me.

No. Stop. I shouldn't let it bother me.

Nevertheless, I follow Noah to his car. As we drive toward the sunset together, his hand rests on my thigh. His thumb gently caresses the fabric of my jeans, leaving nothing but warmth behind. I should resist, but my eyes lazily close. For a moment, I wish to simply savor the evening with him. To not have to ask any questions or think about answers.

"We're here," I hear Noah's deep, soft voice say suddenly. His hand releases my thigh and finds my cheek.

I lift my eyelids and see his face close to mine. My gaze briefly flickers to his lips, and I'm captivated.

There's no other way. I have to kiss this man, to lose myself in his presence and feel the comfort he gives me. This addiction controls me. It always has, and thanks to him, it's stronger today than ever before.

Seconds pass, or maybe minutes. I don't know; my sense of time no longer functions. But when Noah pulls away breathlessly, darkness has already settled around us.

"Come with me," he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement .

I hesitantly step out of the car. "There's nothing here." Nothing but gnarled, resin-scented trees. What surprise could possibly be waiting for me here?

He reaches out his hand toward me. "Come on." I notice a multifunctional backpack on his back. Surely, he doesn't intend for us to go hiking in the middle of the night?

Lost in thought, I interlace my fingers with his and walk beside him. My gaze keeps drifting toward him and the mysterious smile on his lips. "How much farther is it?"

"Our destination is just around the next bend," he replies, picking up the pace.

I follow suit, but when we arrive, I still don’t see anything but trees. Very funny.

Just as my doubts start creeping back up within me, Noah stands behind me. A pleasant warmth spreads across my entire back. "Look up," he whispers in my ear.

I follow his instruction, and what I see almost takes my breath away. "A tree house," I whisper in awe. And what a tree house it is! It looks like a small chalet suspended in the air, with a sun terrace and artistically decorated shutters.

Noah must have built it. I'm sure of it.

I feel him shaking his head against my cheek. "Not a treehouse," he says, sounding suddenly sad. "An observatory."

I can't help but hold my breath. I realize that now is the moment to ask my questions. I snuggle closer to him, reaching for his arms and wrapping them around my waist. "You built it for Julian." I struggle to control my voice .

Noah doesn't react. Perhaps because he doesn't know what to say. Silently, he releases me and directs me to the gracefully curved staircase that leads upward. I follow him to the platform on which the observatory is built, wait until he opens the door, and step inside.

Over the entire floor area of the room, a glass dome adorns, granting a view of the sky. Next, my eyes fall upon the two dusty telescopes. They look expensive, devices that only professionals would use. Beside them, there is a desk. Julian must have positioned his laptop there. Several books are stacked on it, one dangerously close to the edge. It's open, as if someone had just been reading from it. Maps hang on the walls, unreadable to me, along with notes containing dates and coordinates. Additionally, I spot extensive camera equipment on one of the half-height cabinets on the opposite wall.

This isn't just an ordinary observatory. It's a small research center.

"Wow," I say as I explore the room. I discover a miniature kitchen and a worn-out sofa bed. Everything is here. Only a dining table is missing.

How many nights did Julian spend up here? Was he searching for unknown stars or novel phenomena?

I'm certain his interest in the universe went far beyond that of a hobby astronomer. "So he was a scientist," I murmur absentmindedly to myself.

"He worked on his dissertation here," Noah says, his voice breaking.

Without turning to face him, I stroll through the room, trying to control my breath. "Did you help him?" I have no idea if that's the right question to delve deeper into the conversation. But I don't have any other.

"Oh God, no." He chuckles throatily. "I didn't even understand the topic of his doctoral thesis."

I stop and direct my gaze upward to the sky beyond the glass dome. "Thank you for showing me this." I can imagine how difficult it must be for him. If I were to blame for the death of my best friend, I would avoid everything that reminded me of him. And I certainly wouldn't bring anyone here.

He doesn't respond, presumably just standing stiffly at the other end of the room.

What does this mean? Nervously, I knead my fingers. "You must miss him a lot."

I receive no answer. Should I venture further?

"What happened to him?" The words leave my mouth without sound, yet each one feels like a bomb detonating right in the observatory.

Silence spreads between us. All I hear is his strained breathing.

Now I do it. I turn to him and look into his closed-off face. "You can trust me, you know that."

He swallows. His lower lip disappears into his mouth. It's likely that he's biting it until it bleeds.

"What happened, Noah?" I ask once again as gently as I can so that he doesn't hear the panic rising within me. The fear that his answer could destroy everything in an instant.

More seconds pass in which he only stares at me. There's no sorrow in his face, but also no love. I can't discern anything. Absolutely nothing.

"One should let the dead rest," he suddenly says in a hoarse voice, turning away and opening his backpack .

Indecisively, I shift from one foot to the other. Should I inquire further? Or is it better to end this conversation for today?

"But..." I start softly.

Immediately, he raises his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I've cooked something for us," he says excitedly, pulling out three Tupperware containers from his backpack. "I owed you that anyway."

So he doesn't want to talk about it further.

What does that mean?

That Clara told me the truth? Or is it simply that he's not yet ready to tell me about Julian because he's afraid I might judge him prematurely?

Either way, I need to take it slowly. If I pressure him now, he might withdraw from me.

I don't want that. The mere thought brings tears to my eyes. I need his closeness, to breathe in his scent and forget the world, especially his world, together with him.

My God, what am I thinking?

He could be the biggest mistake of my life. Bigger than the firefighter. He destroyed my career. Noah would surely do the same, as Helene made abundantly clear. And if he's truly dangerous, then I don't know what else could happen.

But there he stands, looking at me with that loving gaze that melts all my resistance.

He approaches me and wraps his arms around me. I instantly feel like I'm coming home. Like I'm in the only place in the world where I truly belong.

I can't help it and snuggle against him with longing. It doesn't take a second for the warning voice inside me to quiet down. It gives way to something much greater and more beautiful than any worries. "That sounds wonderful. Let's eat," I say with a contented sigh.

***

Hours later, we lie together on the pulled-out sofa, gazing up at the night sky above us. I nestle against his shoulder, his fingers tenderly caressing my upper arm. While enjoying his homemade chanterelle mushroom goulash, we talked about everything except Julian. And this moment is too beautiful to jeopardize it.

"This place is very special," I say dreamily. "Only in the open nature is the sky so clear."

Noah turns to me and kisses my forehead. "In the city, you'll never see the stars shining with this intensity. Not just because of the pollution, but also because it's never dark there."

He's probably right. "A city never sleeps," I confirm absentmindedly, picturing myself stumbling home from a party in the middle of the night. I'm never alone; there's always something going on.

He clears his throat noticeably. "Do you miss Vienna?" he asks finally, sounding so cautious as if he's afraid of triggering an avalanche with his words.

Even though there's nowhere else I'd rather be than in this observatory, I nod. I have no idea why.

His hand finds my cheek. "Because your family is there."

Perhaps.

"Tell me about them," he gently prompts me.

I press closer to him. "There's not much to tell."

"Do you have siblings?" His toes touch mine.

With my gaze fixed on the sky above, I bite my lower lip for a moment. "A younger brother." He gestures for me to continue, to share more. Honestly, I'm not particularly inclined to talk about Aaron. But the way Noah looks at me right now, I can't deny him this request. "He's two years younger than me," I shrug. "Even in his childhood, he caused my parents a lot of worries. He was frequently sick, showed signs of ADHD, and suffered from severe migraines."

"Is he the reason you became a doctor?" Noah asks.

"My parents dragged him to specialists all the time. No one could help." So yes, maybe that was the beginning. Perhaps he is the root of my dream. Because the desire to heal Aaron has always consumed me.

Noah touches my chin and gently directs it toward him so I look directly into his eyes. "Have you found the solution?"

A short snort escapes my mouth. "No." Despite all my efforts in school and during my studies, I never found out what caused his symptoms. And if I don't get the position for the neurology residency in Vienna, that day will never come.

"There are mountains that not even the strongest will can move," Noah's eyes suddenly glisten with tears.

That may be true. But it doesn't apply to me. After all, I was not only his only hope but also my parents'. "I have failed."

"You said no doctor could help him..." he starts, but then he interrupts himself. Why do you believe you can? That was probably what he wanted to ask me.

Perhaps rightfully so. From a rational perspective, it does seem illogical. Yet I can't let go of this desire. If I could help Aaron, not only would he lead a better life but mine would also change for the better. My parents would not only be filled with pride but also have a little space left for me in their hearts.

For a moment, he looks at me with an inquisitive gaze. "How is he doing today?" he asks.

I lower my eyelids. I can't bear to look into his eyes while confessing the consequences of my failure. "He's addicted to drugs," I choke out. "When he's not in therapy, he lives on the streets. He has problems with the police—stealing, causing public disturbances, assault. The full package."

It's my fault. I couldn't help him, so this became his only way out.

"Aaron says his life is only bearable when he's high. That heroin allows him to escape the prison he's been living in since birth, even if only for a few hours."

No one knows if it's the truth or just a convenient excuse for his addiction. But we all want to believe that he's sick.

Noah's index finger gently brushes away a single tear from my nose. "Look up," he suddenly says.

Why? He doesn't think a shooting star will streak by and grant my deepest wish, does he?

Patiently, he waits until I direct my gaze toward the starry sky, then he rests his cheek against mine. "Out there are black holes. We can't see them, but they suck in everything that comes near them. Every particle of matter and all light." I've heard about this before. It's fascinating, and its precise mechanics are beyond my imagination. Yet I don't understand where he's going with this. "It's the same with guilt," he says, his voice as thin as parchment paper. "It hides deep within us and devours everything that could illuminate our lives. "

Yes, that's exactly how it feels.

A melancholic expression creeps across his face. And suddenly, he doesn't need to say anything anymore. Because I know, deep inside, that we both feel the same.

"But sometimes, when you least expect it, a miracle happens," he says, looking at me full of warmth and love. He gently brushes a strand of hair from my face. "And you meet someone who brings more light into your life than any black hole could ever devour."

What does he mean by that? Could it be that I am that person for him? Or that we could be that for each other?

Throughout my dating experience with men, I've received many compliments for my feminine curves, soft lips, and sunny laughter. Guys have adored my body, admired my profession, and recited cheesy love declarations from movies. But none—absolutely none—have ever said something as beautiful to me as Noah just did. I reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly. "Let me be your light."

Shaking his head, he gazes at me. "You already are," he murmurs hoarsely. Then he places his lips upon mine and kisses me like no one ever has before.

As if I'm something special. As if I'm a treasure that needs to be cherished. Not because of my looks. Not because I'm intelligent or accomplished. But simply because I'm me.

I surrender to our kiss, feeling his warmth, the gentle scratch of his five o'clock shadow against my chin, and the damp trails of tears left on my temples.

I want to say it.

Right now .

I want him to know that I love him. And that I will go with him wherever he wants. Nothing else matters anymore. Clara's words hold no significance. And Helene's warning can no longer hold me back.

"I..." I begin.

He places his finger on my lips and shakes his head. Then he kisses me again.

With more passion.

More intensity.

His hands roam over my body, finding their way beneath my shirt. I do the same, touching the warm skin of his abdomen and eventually tracing the faint line of hair down toward the waistband of his pants.

There, I pause, lifting my eyes and looking at him questioningly. A brief nod is his silent answer, and I need nothing more as I leisurely undo the button and then the zipper of his jeans.

With a soft sigh, he pulls me closer, and within seconds, it feels as if we're floating together in the vastness of the sky above us.

Away from everything that usually occupies our minds.

Among the stars that shine only for the two of us.