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I had to fake falling asleep just for him to leave. And so I could cry in peace.
Mike sent me an apology text right before Noah came up, saying that Roger found out about the items in storage and had them removed…before threatening to fire his own son.
I, of course, apologized for causing trouble and thanked him for everything he'd done for me.
I slide on the thickest pair of socks I own. I don’t need to worry about walking much, Em says she has a pair of old crutches she’ll bring to work today and will be waiting by the door for my Uber to drop me off.
Who needs Noah?
Not me.
I hold onto any furniture piece I can find as I hobble my way to the door, my tote bag over my shoulder. I’m careful to only put pressure on my heels when I step and shut the door lightly behind me.
The action reminding me of sneaking out of the house when I was in high school… back when I had friends.
Turning toward the stairs, I grab onto the rail and try not to look down.
Apparently, I don’t try very hard because I’m instantly nauseous. Not that I’m afraid of heights but one wrong move and I’m toast.
My first two steps are successful as I hold my breath. The next one makes a small, yet deafening creak.
Fuck.
The only way to do this is fast. Deal with the pain later.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take one step on the sole of my foot, muffling a groan, and repeat halfway down.
I see a shadow come around the steps from the bottom and pick up speed. I overestimate and slip with a yelp, before tumbling straight into someone’s arms.
Not just anyone.
Noah.
A rush of warmth surrounds me and I’m lost in the clean cedary scent of him. It’s profound, the familiar sense of belonging, the need to be in his strong arms. Like home after a long journey.
I gasp and struggle to break free, my knees giving out from the pain of my soles. Noah lifts me and carries me down the rest of the way.
“Your Uber left,” he mutters quietly.
“What? Why?”
“I told him you couldn’t figure out how to cancel and sent me down instead.”
I jerk, crossing my arms. “Are you driving me to work?”
“Yes. Tomorrow. You’re not working today.” He sets me down in a booth. “The staff isn’t in yet so I’ll make you an iced coffee and we’ll head out.”
“There’s something very wrong with this plan of yours,” I tell him, giving up on fighting him.
“Doubtful, but humor me.”
“How do you think the town will react when they find out I’m staying with you?”
He rolls his eyes. “It hasn’t been that long, Charlie. I still couldn’t give two shits about what people say in this town.”
He pulls up to his small house on the hill. We arrive in his sports car with a handful of my belongings in the back seat. He said something about going back for the rest later.
That can’t happen.
