RUSH (City Lights, #3)(48)

But he was finished. Finished talking, finished touching me, just finished.

I lay beside him, watching his face relax into the peace of sleep, holding him as long as I would let myself. A long time. Then slowly, so as not to disturb him, I slipped off the bed and crept out. I left the door ajar in case the migraine came back and he needed me.

Downstairs, I moved to the living room sofa like a sleepwalker, and sat down. Caramel-colored twilight streamed in from the front windows and I marveled that there was daylight left in the sky. It felt like we’d been locked away together for hours and hours. I sat still, stiffly, trying to contain the tempest of emotions that swirled in me. My hands twisted in my lap and I had to move, to talk, to do something.

I slipped down to the first floor, to my room, my trembling hands grabbing—and nearly dropping—my cell phone in some strange panic that gripped me. I was going to call my parents and cry with them for Chris. Or maybe call Melanie and tell her that Noah Lake had kissed me and that kiss had drawn something from me that I’d been keeping locked down tight.

In the end, I called Lucien.

“All?, cela est Caron.”

“Where are they, Lucien?” I demanded, tears falling unheeded.

“Charlotte?”

“The accident isn’t even a year old. He got out of the rehab facility four months ago. Where are the letters? The flowers? The phone calls? Where are his friends, his sister, his parents? Noah told them to f*ck off and they just obeyed? No questions asked?”

“Oh, my dear girl. Please. Tell me what happened.”

“What happened?” I could hear the hysteria on the edge of my voice and fought for calm. He kissed me, Lucien, and now I’m flying when I’m supposed to keep my feet on the ground.

“He had a migraine. And it was so scary, and he couldn’t find his pills, and if I hadn’t been here…” I shook my head and swallowed down a sob. “He needs help. He’s needed help for months, and no one but you has even bothered to try.”

“And you, Charlotte,” Lucien said quietly. “You are trying.”

“Not me, Lucien. He doesn’t need some strange girl he’s never met, but someone he knew from before the accident. Someone he can trust. But they all gave up on him, didn’t they?”

“They did the best they could,” Lucien said, his voice heavy but calming too. “Are you all right? Do you need me to come to you? I will…”

I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve. “No, I’m okay. I’m sorry to freak out on you. I just…got a little upset.”

“It’s perfectly fine. What’s not fine is hearing you so troubled. If it’s too much for you, ma chere, I release you from your contract, no questions asked. No penalties.”

“Then I’d be just like everyone else.” I gulped air until I was calm again, and embarrassed by my outburst. “I’m not going to give up on him, I promise, I’m just going to do my job but I can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

I almost told him I couldn’t get close to Noah like that again. It’s too late. I’m scared that it’s already too late. “Nothing. I’m really sorry if I scared you. Truly. I don’t know what came over me. I should let you go.”

There was a pause and then Lucien said, “I will hang up this phone with you, Charlotte, but only if you’re quite certain you’re all right.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“And Noah?”

“He’s fine now. Sleeping. I’m going to stay in the guest room on the third floor so I can hear him if the migraine comes back.”

“Thank you, Charlotte. I cannot tell you what peace you bring to my old heart.”

I got off the phone with Lucien, wishing I could say the same. Instead, I let the phone fall from my hand and cried until the awful fear of Noah’s migraine faded.

My tears dried up, burnt away by the horrible realization that if I hadn’t been here, Noah would have been in terrible trouble. Maybe the worst kind.

I’d told Lucien I wasn’t going to give up on Noah, but I vowed to do better than that. I would do everything I could to help him, to ease his pain when no one else was even trying.

A door had opened and I had stepped through it and there was no going back.





Chapter Sixteen


Noah

White Plains, October

“That’s it. You’re almost there.”

My shoulders screamed, the tendons in my forearms ached as I shuffled across the parallel bars one slow, dragging step at a time. My legs worked but only by sheer force of will, and my feet could hardly hold my weight. Sweat dripped off the end of my nose, ran in rivulets down my back, sticking to my shirt. I grunted, slid my right hand another inch along the bar, then the left. My right arm buckled and I nearly fell. Harlan’s hands gripped my waist from behind.

“Le’go,”I slurred. I gritted my teeth, concentrated. “Let. Go.” The therapist’s hands retreated.

I hauled myself back up and continued the agonizing journey across the parallel bars. I heard Harlan come around in front of me, and when I reached the end, I collapsed against him. He eased me to the mat. I imagined it was blue. Harlan’s uniform was white. His skin was brown.

I lay on my back, bellowing like bull.