Would You Rather: A Novel

Noah was a man who was pretty in tune with his emotions. He hid them well, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel them, or give them the internal recognition they deserved.

So it was strange that defining how he felt in this moment was like groping around in the dark. Bumping into anger, stubbing his toe on frustration. Being forced to his knees by heartbreak.

He was at a loss.

He also had specific methods of dealing with said emotions. When he was angry, he went running. When he was frustrated, he went climbing. When he was heartbroken, he disappeared into the mountains.

He could do none of those things, mostly because he’d shut himself in his room and to leave he’d have to pass Mia again. And for the first time in recent memory, he didn’t want to see her.

I’m not enough.

She hadn’t said those words exactly, but she might as well have.

For so long he’d lived his life content with being her best friend. It’s what they’d always been, and it was beautiful. The piece of his heart that held something so much more for her had shrugged and gone into an indefinite hibernation, still there but not wreaking havoc or causing problems. Manageable.

But then they’d gotten married. They’d grown closer than ever before. And he’d kissed her and she’d kissed him back, and that dormant place woke with a vengeance, desperate and hungry to devour every piece of her he could get his hands on.

And a ridiculous, hopeful part of him had thought this would be it. Yes, they’d started this whole thing with the understanding it was temporary. She’d reminded him of that several times. And still, he hoped, because she was in love with him. She was meant to be his, a truth he felt deep in his bones.

But she was scared, and nothing he could say would fix that.

Everything he’d tried to be for her wasn’t enough, which made him angry. At himself, mostly.

And the thought of losing her broke his fucking heart.

He paced around his room like a caged tiger until he heard the front door, followed by the sound of footsteps down the hallway. When the guest room door clicked shut, he grabbed his running shoes and got the hell out of there.

Noah’s dad didn’t take the news well.

After a terrible night’s sleep, Noah had risen early and gone straight to his parents’ house. Now that the promotion had been determined and James knew about the fraud, it was only a matter of time before his dad found out. Noah had figured it would be best coming from him.

His dad had been pissed. His mom was shocked, then she cried, but tried to keep things under control, especially after his dad started yelling about stupidity and using words like irresponsible and ungrateful. He’d stormed off and shut himself in his office two hours ago.

Noah had learned early that while his dad didn’t handle being caught off guard well, he was usually pretty reasonable when he had time to cool off. When enough time had passed, Noah knocked on the heavy wood door of the home office.

“Come in.”

His dad was behind the desk, leaning back in the leather chair with his hands behind his head.

Noah walked in and sat in the armchair in the corner. Though imposing, this room had always been his favorite in the house. Two walls were floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with books ranging from nonfiction to fiction, architecture coffee-table books to crime mystery novels. When he was a kid he used to watch his dad sketch or roll out huge sheets of printed designs and ask him about every little notation, curious to know what everything meant and how on earth the buildings he passed in the back seat of his parents’ car every day could possibly start from a drawing like this.

He had a lot of good memories in this room, but it wasn’t so welcoming today.

“Your mother wants me to fix this for you,” his dad announced. “Though I don’t know why she thinks James listens to me. He hasn’t for the last thirty years.”

“This is my mess, not yours. I’ll accept the consequences, whatever they are.”

His dad seemed to accept this with something like respect. Noah would take all of that he could get right now.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Are you?”

This man was terrifying. But he appreciated honesty, and if Noah had to guess, he’d bet the deception was what bothered his dad the most. “I’m not sorry I married her. I love her and I had the chance to help her, and I’d do it again. But I am sorry I involved your company and that I may have jeopardized my position there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth or ask you for advice.”

“I’d have told you not to do it.”

“I know.”

“We could have figured something else out.”

“Maybe.” Maybe not. “What do you think James will do?” While he’d accepted the fact he could get fired, he didn’t want to be.

His dad dropped his hands to his lap. “I don’t know. You’re an excellent architect, and I’m not saying that as your father. You’re a model employee and he’s always held you in high regard, before now. He’s fair, but he doesn’t like to cut slack.”

It wasn’t an answer, and it was pretty much everything Noah had considered, too.

“It would have been a joy to see you become the leader of that firm someday.” Disappointment filled the room like smoke. For a son who respected his father, disappointment was about as bad as it got.

“I hope I still get the chance to.”

His dad didn’t seem convinced. “About Mia.”

“What about her?”

“I’m surprised she went along with all of this.”

“It took some convincing.”

“Your mother is heartbroken the marriage won’t last.”

Leave it to his dad to bring up the sore spot. “I’m working on it.”

His dad cocked a brow.

“It’s real for me. It always has been. And even if it didn’t start out that way, it’s been real for both of us…for a while now. But we sort of got in a fight and I’m not sure what will happen now.”

“What happened?”

“She got upset when I told her James found out about us and that my job was on the line. She carries a lot of guilt for what happened with her parents, and this just adds to it. She thinks it’s all her fault, even though I told her the decision was mine and that I wanted to take the risk. She didn’t like that at all.”

His dad huffed out a breath. “I bet not.”

Noah tipped his chin up. “What does that mean?”

His dad leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk, which was no tidier now in retirement than before. “It means Mia’s an intelligent woman. She knows what you’d give up for her. What you’ve already given up for her. It’s not easy to watch someone you love suffer.”

Noah’s response lodged in his throat. She was watching him suffer? “What the hell are you talking about? She’s the one dealing with a chronic illness.” With strength and grace he’d never possess, on top of it all.

“You’re terrified, son. You’re so afraid of losing her because you lost someone else you love, and it’s not easy to see someone you care about live in fear. Especially when it seems to drive everything they do. It can’t be easy for her. I know this because I feel the same way, watching you.”

Noah’s pulse pushed against his veins, everything in him fighting to deny it.

“I lost Nathan, too, Noah. He was my son. Do I worry about something happening to you? To your mother? Am I sometimes paralyzed with fear when I know you’ve gone up into the mountains to go camping and will come down that same road where deer are as thick as trees? Yes. I do. But I haven’t let it completely take over my life. I don’t let it own me. I refuse to live that way, and I want the same for you. By the sound of it, so does Mia.”

Everything in his body felt weighed down. “I’m working on it.”

“Are you?”

Good God, did this man not give an inch? “I don’t… I know I want to try.”

His dad nodded, his blue eyes perceptive and understanding. “That’s a start.” He stood. “For what it’s worth, I hope you figure it out and can make it work with her. Because a woman who cares about you that much is one you should never let go.” He made his way to the door and turned back. “That and your mother will kill you if you don’t.”

Noah had been in his brother’s old bedroom twice since he died.

Today was the second of the two.

Heart lodged in his throat, he opened the door, some stupid part of his brain half expecting Nathan to be lounging on the bed with his laptop, researching some new Flatiron route they’d try next week.

The room wasn’t some creepy shrine kept for his brother—he’d been an adult not living at home when he died—but it seemed there were some things his mother hadn’t had the heart to change.

The faded navy bedspread.

The bookcase filled with Nathan’s things. Books, trophies, figurines.

The corkboard hanging above the desk filled with various notes, pages, and magazine clippings.

Noah stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him. He paused for a few seconds, hands in his pockets and head bowed.

Deep breath. In, out.

He continued on, drifting around the room, looking and thinking. Remembering.

Eventually he ended up in the desk chair, positioned near the window. Nathan’s room overlooked the front of the house, whereas Noah’s had been in the back corner. From here he could see Claire’s parents’ house across the street, and most of Mia’s old front lawn, covered by an unseasonably early first snow that had arrived last night.

A young couple lived there now, and their kids had already been out to ravage nature’s delivery, now marred with snow angel indentions, irregular patterns of footprints, and an honestly impressive family of snow people. A distinct contrast from the pristine white blanket of Noah’s parents’ yard.

He remained in Nathan’s space for a long time. His attention shifted to the corkboard on the wall, and he smiled with recognition of several items on display. That smile faded at the article on “The Hidden Ice Caves of Banff,” ripped from the spine of an old issue of Outside magazine.

Half rising from the chair, Noah reached up and pulled out the pushpin, sinking back into the chair with the pages in his hand. The photos were fantastic, meant to entice and inspire, but there was no way a picture could do that landscape justice. Those mountains—those climbs—were meant to be seen with your own eyes, experienced with your own hands and feet. At the top of the article, there was a handwritten note in Nathan’s messy scrawl:

The thing we fear most has the greatest reward.

Noah stared at those words for a long time, a frown between his brows. His brother hadn’t seemed afraid of anything. He’d gone after everything in life with confidence and fervor, everything from rock climbing to approaching women. He embodied the very definition of adventure.

When had he written that? What had he been thinking when he did?

Noah would never know.

He left the pages on the desk and left Nathan’s room, but the words wouldn’t leave his head. He came back to them again and again over the next few hours, unable to shake the feeling that there was something important there. Something he shouldn’t ignore, like a shift in the wind that warned a storm was coming.

The thing we fear most has the greatest reward.

The answer was there, clear as day, though it took several more hours of warring within himself to admit it. To admit he knew what he had to do.

Finally, around midnight that evening, Noah slipped outside and climbed into the old tree house where he’d spent half his childhood. Settling in with his back against the tree, he slipped his phone from his pocket and called Graham.

His friend sounded groggy, but Noah got straight to the point.

“Is your trip to Banff still on?”

Graham yawned audibly. “Yeah. Leaving in three weeks. Why?”

Noah closed his eyes, heart pounding in his ears. “Got room for one more?”