RUSH (City Lights, #3)(38)

“So does that mean no walk?” I called.

“No walk,” he called back.

I pursed my lips but a smile spread anyway. This was progress, I could feel it. I wanted to call Lucien and crow my good news, but if Noah found out, he’d never trust me again.

That afternoon, Noah had me order his usual lunch takeout, but he ate it at the kitchen counter with me. He hardly said a word, still guarding himself. I thought that was progress too; that he was at least attempting to curb his biting words, and it prompted me to keep trying, to not give up on him like everyone else had.

“Are you sure I can’t change your mind about a walk?”

He tapped his long fingers on the counter. “Did Lucien put you up to this?”

“Put me up to what? Suggesting a walk in the fresh air and warm sunshine?” I smirked. “No, I came up with that one aaaaall by myself.”

He didn’t smile. Not even close. But someday, I vowed, I’m going to get him to smile if it kills me.

“I don’t know, Charlotte,” he said quietly, sliding off his stool. “I don’t know that it’s a good idea.”

I furrowed my brow. “To take a walk? Why—?”

“Because I…” He stopped. He’d taken a step the wrong way and had to reorient himself with the counter. “Because I don’t even know which direction I’m facing, that’s why. I’m a f*cking joke.”

“Noah…” I put my hand on his arm, to comfort him, but he tore out of my grip and I stepped back.

“You don’t grab a blind person’s arm like they’re a child to be led around. If you’re trying to guide them, they take your arm.”

I stiffened and thrust my chin out defiantly, ready to retort that I wasn’t trying to guide him, when it hit me that he was willing to be guided.

“Oh. Okay. Here.” I stuck out my elbow, and to my utter shock and amazement, Noah wrapped those long fingers around the crook of my arm.

I froze. Or rather, I flinched and then froze. I felt a jolt of electricity shoot up my arm as he touched me, a pleasant thrill that skimmed along my skin, down my back, even to the tips of my breasts. I sucked in a breath.

“Well? Are we going somewhere or not?”

“Uh, no, right,” I said and cleared my throat. “Where are we going again?”

“I thought we were going outside,” Noah said irritably. “Don’t you want to take your poor blind schmuck out for a walk? Fucking hell, Charlotte, make up your mind.”

“Hey,” I said, turning to face him. “Let’s cool it with the swearing okay? I’m all for a well-timed f-bomb now and then, but you sound like a character in a Scorsese movie.”

I thought for a second he was going to snap back. Instead, he nodded once. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I said, okay. Let’s just go already.”

I offered my arm again.

“And try not to walk me into ditch or get me creamed by a cab, if you don’t mind.”

I grinned despite myself. “I’ll do my best.”

*

I’d never led a blind person before, and I quickly discovered it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. I was shocked to find that the world I took for granted was actually a hazardous obstacle course with dangerous pitfalls at every turn. I found myself narrating every change in terrain to ensure Noah didn’t trip or break an ankle. And he was so damn tall, I had to steer him away from the low-hanging branches of sidewalk trees that threatened to scratch him.

Noah heeded every warning quickly and avoided every obstacle gracefully. He also walked very slowly. So slowly, in fact, I began to feel like I had an anchor dragging at me. His face was a mask of concentration and I could see he was fighting not to keep one hand in front of him, to ward off anything that might come at him in the dark.

“You know,” I ventured, “if you had a cane, you would know the way was clear.”

“I have a cane,” he said through gritted teeth. “The rehab place gave me several.”

“Why don’t you use one?”

He didn’t answer and I didn’t push it. The walk was obviously stressful enough for him as it was.

We made it to Broadway, with its loud, busy thoroughfare and honking taxis, running engines, and other pedestrians who crowded the sidewalk. Noah swore under his breath the third time someone brushed his shoulder.

“They’d get out of your way if they knew you were blind,” I said gently.

“They should get out of my way even if I weren’t,” he spat, but I could see his irritation was only a mask to conceal his anxiety. Sweat beaded on his brow despite a pleasant breeze, and I felt his grip on my arm tighten. Finally, he stopped short and pulled me close to him. “Charlotte…”

“It’s okay,” I told him, feeling horrible for suggesting this walk when he obviously wasn’t ready. “We’ll go back. I’ll take you back.”

“No, wait.” He stood rooted to the spot, his jaw twitching. “Just wait. Where are we?”

“Columbus and West 77th.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me.” He heaved another breath. “Goddamn, it’s loud. Are we close?”

“We just have to cross this street, and we’re there.”