- E P I L O G U E -
- 2 YEARS LATER -

The truth was a funny thing.

A constant, maleable thing that can make or break one's conscience. There were two sides to every story, as they said, but only one of them was true. It was a shame that truth could be skewed, twisted, and weaponized, since the truth was all we had. And even though one side of the story may have been a curdled lie, it was up to the beholder to determine who the naysayer was.

My boyfriend wasn't good under pressure. He could handle public speaking. Being under a spotlight didn't phase him. But to hold the power to ruin someone's life that they'd built for themself from the ground up felt like a burden in his hands. He didn't like to be responsible for anyone's downfall, may it have been himself or somebody that deserved the worst fate imaginable. It was his Achilles' heel.

I watched Noah from the gallery. He was wearing a three piece suit, a gift that I'd had tailored for him in hopes that he'd feel confident going up there. My stomach turned for him; he looked petrified. He'd just undergone his third round of brutal, relentless questioning, having to recount years of trauma he'd tried to bury. But he got through it swimmingly and I couldn't wait to tell him that.

Noah cleared his throat and looked over the court room, purposefully avoiding my gaze. I knew an encouraging smile would just make him more anxious. He was afraid of letting me down, which was just ridiculous.

It was quiet as all parties made sure they were finished before sending Noah on his way. He swallowed once, glanced at his lawyer, then nodded. "I'd like to address the defendant directly, if that's okay," he said, eyes immediately meeting mine. I pressed my lips into a hard line, trying to mentally will him my strength. I knew he was running low.

"Very well," Judge Paterson said, sliding his glasses off of his nose.

Noah probably couldn't see it from where he was, but I was sure that the judge was on his side. I knew he wasn't allowed to be biased, but you could tell by the way he looked at MacNeil versus the way he listened so intently to Noah's testimony, there was a divide . . . and His Honor was on our side.

I was holding my breath. Noah stood still while his lawyer brought the judge a piece of paper, slightly crinkled from the months Noah poured into it, and made sure he was allowed to read it. I'd watched him stare at it many times in the recent week, as if he were questioning the validity of his words. I assured him that they were exactly that: his word.

His voice started strong as he read. "David," he began, glancing up toward the right side of the room where a disheveled MacNeil sat in a suit. "When I met you, I thought you were a superhero. It was silly, but at the time, I thought, 'A man with the ability to make anything I wanted appear out of thin air? He must have superpowers.' I was eight years old."

It was silent in the courtroom. You could hear a pin drop.

"I didn't have a dad growing up, so I thought having your attention and praise was the next best thing. I looked up to you. I trusted you," Noah said, and that was when his voice began to waver. I sat forward in my seat and clasped my hands in front of my mouth. "You took that trust and used it for something evil. I was just a kid, but that didn't bother you. I was a pawn, a plaything. I wasn't a person to you."

In my periphery, I saw MacNeil shift in his seat when Noah's eyes rose from the paper. Good, I thought. Squirm like the disgusting insect you are.

"By twelve years old, I was behaving a certain way to attract the male gaze. Specifically yours, David, because I thought the way you treated me as a prize was something all boys should want. All boys needed. But I didn't need to drag my feet on my way to my dressing room because I knew you'd be there, lying in wait. I didn't need to abandon my career because you used my newfound fame as manipulation. I didn't need to lose all faith in men because the first one I trusted used me up and dried me out."

My boyfriend wasn't good under pressure, but he was on fucking fire in that moment. The depth of his voice echoed in the small courtroom, projected by the microphone in front of his mouth. It was loud, and mighty, and fortified, and it rattled every single person in the room's bones.

"You ruined my future, my sense of wonder, my brain patterns. You took someone warm and soft and turned them ice cold. And to that I say . . . How dare you? How dare you take away a child's innocence? I think back to the eight-year-old me and think, how dare you use the unquestionable trust of someone so vulnerable and instill violent, disgusting memories for me to think about every. damn. day?"

Noah was shaking. I could see the paper in his hands vibrating, abandoned as he stared into the eyes of his abuser. This was from memory now. He was speaking verbatim from his heart.

"I know the truth now. You're not a superhero," he said, jutting his chin forward ever so slightly. "You're the monster."

His shoulders bowed and he reached up to swipe away the tears that started slipping out and didn't stop. Once his eyes found the podium, he didn't look back up. I was so unbelievably proud of him. The judge dismissed Noah back to his seat.

Noah wasn't the first witness called upon by prosecution. He was actually the last. Of twenty-fucking-two. Twenty-two men that were once boys—and a few that still were—under the hand of David MacNeil. Some of them didn't have much to say, some of them plenty. Each one of them prey to one monster of a man. They all had the nightmares and traumas of falling victim to a figure they were supposed to trust.

But Noah . . . Noah was their star witness. He was the trigger to this chain reaction of men and boys coming forward, jumping in line to strike their sword.

It was hard to watch, but I'd been coming since day one. I wasn't going to leave Noah alone to the wolves. He was terrified and overwhelmed, but he wasn't cowardly. No, he was the strongest man alive. He was a stone wall, impenetrable to the cruel reality of what this trial would mean for him. For his career. For his health.

The lawyers on both ends gave their closing statements, one claiming MacNeil was a sick fuck—paraphrasing, of course—and the other insisting he was a good man with faults. The judge explained to the jury the many, many charges against MacNeil, what the laws were and what they were meant to discuss, and then sent them off to the deliberation room. The courtroom was granted a thirty minute break to await deliberations, but I worried it'd take longer than that for them to decide.

When news broke out, the case went viral. The jury was sequestered and this had been a week and a half long affair. There were so many witnesses and so much evidence that it almost seemed ridiculous that a jury was necessary. But still, all was fair in law and order. As much as we hated it, David MacNeil had the right to a fair trial, too.

Noah was biting on his fingernails when I found him outside of the courthouse. His lawyer was standing by, talking to one of his people about what had happened today. I approached quickly, opening my arms for Noah to collapse into immediately.

I smoothed his hair and held him tightly as he choked on a sob in my shoulder. He wasn't saying anything, just holding onto me for dear life. It was mid-April and hot as all hell outside, so we were sweating through our suits profusely. That didn't make me loosen my grip.

"Noah," I murmured into his hair. "Look at me."

He let go and took a half-step back like it was a chore. I reached up to wipe the tears off of his cheeks with my palms flat on either side. Noah sniffed, seemingly calmed down just like that, and took a deep breath. I fixed his hair, straightened his tie, and kissed his mouth just once.

"I am so fucking proud of you. Do you know that?" I asked, searching his eyes. He nodded. "No, seriously. I wouldn't have been able to do it if I were you. You are the strongest man I know, okay? You did so good, baby. You did amazing." I pulled him into my chest again, save the crying this time. "So, so proud of you."

He clutched my waist and mumbled into my shirt. "That was really hard."

We grabbed some coffee and a snack and went our separate ways in the courtroom. The jury was still deliberating and if they ran until lunch, we'd take another break. If they ran until the evening, we'd call it a day and meet back fresh and early on Monday morning. I hoped they'd come to a conclusion today. The sooner this was over, the sooner Noah could begin to finally heal.

It took another two hours. We didn't leave the courthouse except for the occasional smoke break. Noah was on edge and I knew tonight we'd probably indulge in a weed sesh, whether it was celebratory or not.

The jury walked out stoically, giving no indication of their decision. David MacNeil sat idly with his hands on the table. The smug son of a bitch was confident. He sounded so sure when he was on the stand, even when he was telling about the horrors we already knew, misconstruing them to sound like it was all on the victims. He was confident, but Noah's lawyer was more so.

David MacNeil was facing a separate trial for the massive amounts of kiddie porn on his computers. It wasn't of any of the victims, not even Noah, so it wasn't included in this case. But with that in mind, the jury should have been unanimous. The world doesn't like child predators. There'd be thoughts and prayers for what his fellow inmates would do to him when they found out he was the scum of the earth.

The judge went on his spiel about the law and why we have jury trials. Finally he said, "Mr. MacNeil, you'll stand to receive the verdict of the jury," and MacNeil stood, cuffs at his ankles. The courtroom could choke us with its palpable tension.

I fiddled with the seam of my pants while I waited anxiously. The back of Noah's head was unwavering. He sat tall. Strong. With bated breath, we listened as the foreman of the jury stood to read over their verdict. He spoke for a long time and I wasn't even sure I understood everything he was saying, but . . .

They found him guilty.

We all listened as he was charged with numerous counts—literally, I'd lost count after the tenth—of sexual exploitation of children, all different degrees of criminal sexual conduct, and more. I felt the deepest part of me ache with a bittersweet joy for Noah. This was the justice he deserved. I was sorry it happened and that it had to come to this, but MacNeil was finally getting his comeuppance.

When court was adjourned and MacNeil was skirted off in handcuffs, shooting nasty glares at Noah and me, I watched Noah shake the hands of the legal team he'd worked endlessly with to make this happen. He didn't look happy, nor pleased. I knew this would be hard for him to process. It was a long journey and I feared it'd only just begun.

Outside in the hallway, he fell into my arms in a similar fashion as on the court break. I didn't say anything, just rocked him back and forth while he breathed me in. I kissed the side of his head, trying to translate in my actions once again how proud I was of him. For being strong. For getting through this.

"It's over," he whispered into my throat.

"It's over," I repeated. "Now it's all about you, baby."

He pulled away and looked at me with his eyebrows furrowed, the little crease in between so familiar and comforting that I couldn't help but press a kiss onto it. I knew he'd never believe me when I said things like that. I knew that, even after the two years we'd been together, he was still waiting for the ball to drop. Hell, I was too for the first year. We were too good together, it was alarming. Suspicious.

But here we were. And with that piece of shit out of the way, we were one step closer to finding our peace.

"Can we cook together tonight?" he asked, his eyes half-mast as if he were a few steps from falling asleep on the floor. "I want big steak."

I chuckled to myself. One thing I could proudly say I'd improved on in Noah's life was his appetite. "Big steak it is," I said. We removed our suit jackets and braced ourselves for the heat—and the cameras.

We'd been out as a couple since that Halloween party a few years back. Someone had been so kind as to take some photos of us dirty dancing and kissing all night, to no one's fault but our own. They were everywhere by the following morning. It didn't even phase us. We were untouchable by outer forces. Sure, the haters preached their verses. It was expected. Joey was pissed, which amused us more than anything. We were in an impenetrable bubble at that point. No one, not even Joey with his chain-smoking red-faced lectures, could puncture the safety of our relationship. That fact was almost more overwhelming than the actual hate we received.

But that was a while ago. Nowadays, we were just known as the star-crossed lovers, boys that were friends turned boyfriends.

Reporters swarmed us, begging Noah to give them something. Anything. They wanted to know if his abuser was done for or if he was free to roam the streets. Some asked intrusive questions that made Noah squeeze my hand until I worried he'd fracture bone. But we powered through, hopped into the black SUV, and shut them out with the shield of tinted windows. I looked over at him and he didn't look afraid. He didn't look like he was about to cry or break down like he had many times in the recent weeks.

He looked relieved.

I slung my arm over the back of the car seat and he fell into me like he always did. He held on to my knee like he always did. I kissed his head like I always did. Our hearts beat in synchrony like they always did.

And I loved my Noah. Like I always did.

- A U T H O R ' S N O T E -

I am so incredibly sad to say goodbye to Theo and Noah, but I'm so happy to say this book is complete.

To start, this story was a bit out of my comfort zone. It took a lot of channeling some dark, depressing thoughts to put myself in Noah's shoes to try to make sense of why he does what he does. I've never enjoyed making a main character act like such a brat—for good reason. And it was really fun forcing Theo to fall head over heels when he wasn't expecting it.

I hope the ending wasn't as rushed as I felt like it was. It wasn't intended to end there, I just felt like there wasn't much else to say. As for the epilogue, well . . . I have no idea how court works and this took some very lazy, very brief Googling. Hopefully I did the American legal system some justice (no pun intended).

Thank you so fucking much to everyone who's voted, commented, added to your libraries, and that one person who posted on my profile after updates and made me happy ugly cry (you know who you are).

I loved this story so much and I can genuinely say it's the first book I've written on here that I'm genuinely proud of from start to finish. There were times I considered dropping it, slapping "HIATUS" on the title, and focusing on something lighter, but I couldn't let go that easily. I love my baby Noah too much—as if that didn't translate through Theo's simping.

Thank y'all again and I hope you enjoyed Star-Crossed.

— W