Page 57 of Finding Noah

She took a step, then another, before stopping and glancing over her shoulder. “If you need something, there’s an officer sitting out here all night. Just … yell for him.”

“Nobody’s been back here since Dad left,” I muttered, grabbing the bottle of Coke and twisting off the cap. “Not until you came.”

She sighed again and waited for a moment to speak, as if considering her next words carefully. Then she said, “I can be back tomorrow.”

Something about her hesitation dug beneath my skin, and I looked into the open mouth of the bottle. She pitied me. She felt obligated. That was all this was, I suddenly realized. The food. The Coke. The blanket. The books. She didn’t care about me. She felt sorry for me, the boy she had kept company as his bio dad stormed the home he shared with his mom and hero. The boy she had, in some way, saved herself by simply answering the phone and being there.

I wrinkled my nose and screwed the cap back onto the Coke without taking a sip.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, my tone unmoving and cold. “Have a good time on your date.”

A good time. Some other guy was going to touch her. He was going to put his hands on her body. His lips. His tongue. He was going to kiss her, lick her, fuck her. And I was going to sit here and dwell on that until it drove me insane.

But, no, I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t let this unsettling, uncalled-for possessiveness to take control. I laid no claim over her. She wasn’t mine. She never was, never would be, and I needed to stop. Holy fuck, I needed to knock it the fuck off before it really did drive me crazy.

Meg turned and watched as I put the soda bottle on the floor. She watched as I crossed my arms, inhaled, and leaned back against the wall behind the cot. I stared at her feet, not allowing my eyes to slide over her body until they met hers. I kept my expression stoic, frozen with disinterest despite the turmoil rolling, hot and terrible, beneath my skin.

You don’t matter to her, and she can’t matter to you. She can’t.

What the fuck is she thinking? Why the hell is she just standing there? Why the fuck is she just staring at me?

We were in a standoff. A test of wills against one another.

Who would speak first? Who would break?

“I will be back tomorrow,” she said firmly, allowing me the victory. “Eat something. And, Noah, for the love of God, grow the hell up.”

My gaze flicked from her feet to her face, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fury in her eyes, but she turned too quickly. She’d beaten me to it. She hurried away from my cell and down the hall until I could no longer watch her curls bounce with every step.

“Grow the hell up.”

I exhaled and untangled my nerves as I pushed away from the wall, leaning over to grab the Coke from the floor. I opened it again, took a sip, and as I swallowed, I wondered if I could.

“Grow the hell up.”

And I wondered if maybe she’d want me then.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BATMAN & APOLOGIES

It was noon when she made good on her word and came back.

This time, she brought two to-go cups of coffee and a bag of croissants from Black & Brewed.

Initially, at the sight of the to-go carrier, I assumed she was going to head to her office in the building to work. But then her father, Sergeant Kinney, trailed behind her with a folding chair under his arm.

He glanced at me and must've noticed the inquisitive expression on my face.

“My daughter has asked to spend some time knockin' some sense into ya,” he explained with a smirk as he unfolded the chair beside the cell door. “Behave yourself.”

I raised a brow, but said nothing. What the hell did he think I was going to do from behind these bars?

Then again, the guy had just seen me ass-naked in the mayor's pool and paraded my nudity through the police department before he even thought to give me something to cover up with.

Touché.

“How long are ya gonna stay?” Sergeant Kinney asked Meg as she took a seat, balancing the coffee in her lap.