RUSH (City Lights, #3)(42)

Noah raised his hands, slowly, and I could tell he was nervous too.

“Go on,” I blurted. “Big hairy moles…and a unibrow that would’ve made Frida Kahlo jealous.”

He dropped his hands and rolled his eyes. “Will you shut up? I have to concentrate.”

“I wasn’t ready. Okay, I’m ready now.”

“Charlotte?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I told you to shut up.”

“Now you’re stalling.”

“Maybe. I’ve never done this before.” He raised his hands, lowered them again. “People are staring at us, right?”

“Yes. A crowd has gathered.”

“Ha ha.”

“It’s New York. No one’s watching.” I took his hand in my own that trembled slightly, and placed it on my cheek. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

The street was loud and busy, but just then the very air between us seemed fragile, and I held my breath as Noah looked at me for the first time.

He cupped my cheek, then raised his other hand to join the first. He held my face like this for a moment, his touch surprisingly gentle, and then his thumbs traced the outline of my mouth. It took everything I had not to gasp at the sensations that simple touch awoke in me, and I was sure he could hear my heart beat; it was pounding like a hammer in my chest as his fingers brushed over my lips.

I held perfectly still even as shivers danced down my back when his hands slipped to the back of my neck, my nape, my ears, feeling the size and shape of them. His face was so close to mine, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. His hazel eyes tried to follow where he touched me, but he gave up and closed his eyes, letting his hands do what they could not.

His trailed the tips of his fingers over my nose, down the contours, to my cheekbones, then up, to my eyes. He drew each eyebrow, and I closed my eyes as his fingers moved down, over my eyelids and then my eyelashes that lay against my cheek.

Finally, he stroked my hair, trailing his hands down the length, feeling the texture, taking strands in his long fingers, and then his hands fell away. I opened my eyes to an expression so full of longing, it nearly broke my heart.

“I was right.”

“About what?” I managed.

He opened his mouth to speak, and then all the hard edges and lines came roaring back. He pulled away, to his side of the bench. “I was right that I can’t see shit with my hands. Stupid to try.”

A deep, hollow disappointment came over me. “Really? Nothing?”

He turned his head away. “We should go back. I want to go back now.”

He stood up without waiting for a reply, and I stood with him, feeling like I’d been robbed of something I didn’t know I wanted.

He took my arm, and we headed back. He moved a little easier this time, but his face was drawn tight again, a thousand thoughts darkening his eyes.

As we walked, I distracted myself, and watched the yellow cabs and cars and people go by. So many different makes and models of everything. So many colors, so many textures, to try to name them all would be futile. To try to describe the twilight as it fell over New York City would be impossible. I didn’t have the words. But right then, I wished I did. I wished there was some way to give it all back to him. The sunsets and the blues skies, and even his adrenaline rushes…

My whole arm felt warm where Noah touched me, and the skin on my face still tingled with the memory of his touch.

Be careful, I warned myself. Be very careful.





Chapter Fourteen


Noah

White Plains, August

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Lake. I wish I had better news. But this was always a possibility.”

No! You told me there was a chance. You told me it might come back. You assured me that the brain swelling had been minimal. The damage contained. The charts looked good, you said. I’m relearning all my skills. Prognosis is excellent. So where is my goddamn light?

Those were the thoughts screaming in my head. All I could manage from my stiffened mouth was, “Fehk you.”

“Noah!” My mother’s voice, scandalized.

“I understand your disappointment, Mr. Lake.”

The doctor. One of a squad. The quarterback.

“On the positive end, your progress in every other area is nothing short of astounding. You should consider yourself lucky, Mr. Lake. Eventually, you will walk out of this facility and speak with perfect elocution. Given the severity of your accident…well, frankly, that’s a miracle.”

You told me there was a chance. I’m busting my balls in PT every goddamn day because you gave me hope…

My mother’s hand on top of mine. “Is there anything we can do for you, honey? Anything you need right now?”

What I need? What I needed was for the doctors to fix my goddamn brain so that I could see again.

I sat in my wheelchair, my jaw working. So many words and I couldn’t spit them out. They crowded in my mouth, gummed it shut, as the reality finally sunk its sharp, poisonous teeth into me.

This is it. This is final. This is how I’ll be for the rest of my life. No light, no color. I’ll never see another sky. I’ll never see another sunset. I’ll never see…anything. Ever again.

My hands gripped the arms of my wheelchair more tightly than I’d ever been able to achieve during PT.