by Shandi Boyes
Noah backs up my confirmation with words. “It’s not my blood.”
I want to say his comment fills me with relief, but it doesn’t. Now, instead of worrying he’s injured, I’m petrified he’s minutes from being arrested.
While taking a moment to calm down, I return my eyes to Noah’s. I want to ask what happened to the guy who drugged me, but I also don’t want to know. The longer Noah stays in my protective bubble, the longer he’s safe from threats. It’s bad enough I ruined his chance of getting a record deal, much less destroying his life. What if he ends up in jail like his dad? He’d never survive that. Noah is the strongest man I’ve met, but he’d go crazy in a four by four cell for years on end.
I stare at Noah, wondering if he can hear my thoughts when he murmurs, "The police aren't pressing charges."
I have a million questions in my head, but I can’t articulate one of them. I’m too shocked. How can you beat a guy half to death and not face charges? Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but I’m also stunned.
“Can I go home?” There’s too much turmoil in Noah’s beautifully tormented gaze for me to relax in a hospital bed.
Noah takes a few seconds drinking in the plea in my eyes before shifting his focus to someone behind my shoulder. “Can you grab the nurse, Jake?”
I was so caught up, I completely forgot Jacob was in the room with us. After a quick nod, Jacob heads for the door, closing it behind him. He’s barely stepped foot into the corridor when Noah pulls me back down until I’m nuzzled in his chest. “Are you sure you want to go home?”
I nod without pause. Other than my throbbing head, I’m perfectly fine.
“Because the doctor advised staying until the drugs wear off.”
I understand the doctor’s concerns, but I don’t want to spend the only full day I have with Noah this week in a hospital room. That would be more detrimental to my sanity than being drugged.
Upon spotting my shaking head, Noah presses his lips to my temple. “Alright. We’ll see what the doctor says. If he’s happy for you to go, we’ll get you signed out as soon as possible.”
The nurse arrives not long after Jacob comes back. After the nurse completes a set of observations on me, the doctor strongly advises that I stay under observation for a few more hours. With Noah refusing to take my side over the doctor’s, I accept the pain medication the nurse gives me before snuggling back into Noah’s chest.
Chapter 22
Emily
I didn’t anticipate falling asleep, so you can imagine my shock when I wake up to discover it’s a little after 11 AM, and I’m back to my usual self.
“Good morning, Beautiful.”
Noah’s voice is raspy from waking up. Apparently, he snuck in a couple hours of sleep as well. I have no clue how. He’s sitting upright in a rock-hard bed with me drooling all over his chest. I’d be mortified if I didn’t love waking up in his arms.
“Morning.” I keep my lips close to his chest, not wanting to kill him with my horrific morning breath. My throat is raw, so I'm relatively sure it smells like I ate roadkill for breakfast.
When Noah’s finger slips under my chin to lift my head, wanting to give me his daily kiss, I yank back. “No! I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
As quickly as a flash of lightning brightening a dark sky, Noah flips us over until he’s positioned on top of me. The girly giggle erupting from my mouth switches to a moan when the thickness his jeans fail to conceal rubs my aching core. My thin hospital gown ensures I feel every delicious inch of him. Every. Rock-hard. Inch.
Worry about rotten breath becomes a thing of the past when I soak him in. He hasn't replaced the shirt he removed earlier this morning, meaning he's wearing nothing but ripped jeans and a sultry smirk. His thick biceps, tattooed pecs, and stacked abs already have my head in a tizzy, much less his handsome face.
When he tilts his head to align our lips, I no longer care how bad my breath may smell. I pull him toward me to ravish his delicious mouth without a single thought crossing my mind.
I’ve barely sampled half his scrumptiousness when a voice remarkably similar to my mom’s filters into my room. “I guess you're ready to go home?”
When I glance over Noah’s shoulder, I spot my mom standing in the entrance to the room. She's wearing her regular concerned motherly face; it’s just more taut today. My admission scared her.
Hoping to put her worry to rest, I answer, “Very ready. I feel great!”
My tingling lips drop into a pout when Noah rolls off me so he can stand next to my bed. He has the same worried expression my mom is wearing, but his is due to my mom seeing us getting frisky in public.
He has no cause for concern; my mom loves him as if he's her son. The moment I introduced them, she considered him family. That has ensured he’s never worn his shoes inside our house like he did the night we met. My mom is pedantic about cleanliness, but she also has a nurturing side that is proven without a doubt when she greets Noah with a kiss on the cheek.
My brow arches when her hug coincides with her whispering something into his ear. I strain to hear what she says, but she's too quiet. I can't make out a word she is speaking. It must be important, because shock crosses Noah’s features before he nods.
Pretending she hasn’t noticed my inquisitive glare, my mom squeezes my hand. “How about we get you signed out of here so you can enjoy the rest of your weekend?”
I nod eagerly.
An hour later, I was discharged from the hospital under the watchful eye of both my mom and Noah. Noah wanted to take me straight home so I could rest, but I felt fine and didn't want to waste a beautiful day, so I convinced him otherwise.
We spent the majority of our day at Bronte's Peak. It was packed with people just as eager to enjoy the splendid blue sky day. We explored hidden caves and made out on the white sandy beach. I love spending the day by the water with Noah. It's rare to see him out of his beloved grungy jeans. The first time I saw him in board shorts, I laughed. I didn't mean to be cruel; it was just so foreign. He looks out of place on the beach, but that doesn't stop women of all ages ogling him when he walks by.
Bronte’s Peak has become our favorite hangout spot the past six months. We spent a majority of our summer there before school started, but no matter how late in the afternoon we arrived, Noah ensured we left before the sun set. I’ve told him on numerous occasions that Zander is in the past, and I no longer care about what happened there, but Noah is adamant Bronte’s Peak will never be our hookup spot.
With the rest of our time spent at Jacob’s house, Noah is only dropping me back to college now, early Monday morning. We’re nearly pulling into the street my dorm is located on when the nervous bob of Noah’s knee gets the better of him. “We got a record deal.”
I freeze, sure I heard him wrong. "What?"
He smiles in a way that restarts my heart. “Cormack was pissed I dove off the stage, but he liked what he heard so much, he offered us a record deal.”
“How long have you known?” A gleam in his eyes answers my questions on his behalf. “You’ve known all weekend and didn’t tell me.” I slap his arm, more in play than anger. “Noah Gibson Taylor!”
He laughs, loving that I used his full name.
Unable to contain the buzz thickening my veins, I throw off my seatbelt before diving over the seat to give him a congratulatory kiss. He swerves toward incoming traffic, startled by my sudden arrival.
“Jesus Christ, Emily! Put your seatbelt back on.”
With a grimace, I slide back to my side of the seat before clipping my belt into place. I was so excited, I didn’t register how stupid it was to scare him like that. Any time we travel, he always makes sure my belt is fastened, yet I go and undo it while he’s driving down a busy road.
Poor guy. I nearly gave him a heart attack.
Once he’s happy my seatbelt is back where it should be, Noah shares the information he got in dribs and drabs from his bandmates Friday night. “There are only four
songs on our demo CD the label wants to work with, so they’re arranging for us to meet with a songwriter who will help me develop enough songs to fill an album. We’ll work from their studios in Hopeton...”
I’m stoked for them, but also a little panicked. Does his new schedule mean we won’t see each other as regularly as we have the past six months?
Noah settles my panic. “For the first few months, our schedule will follow the routine the band has had since it was founded. We’ll just work from a studio in Hopeton instead of the one in Marcus’s grandma’s garage.”
I laugh when he discloses the song he wrote about Nick was cut from their album. Nick was reportedly devastated. It serves him right. Anyone who happily admits they’re a player doesn’t deserve someone as talented and beautiful as Jenni. I’m just grateful she heeded my warning about Nick. If she hadn’t, who knows how far the carnage would have spread.
When Noah pulls into the parking lot of my dorm, the gloomy cloud just clearing from my head returns full force. Even being drugged, I enjoyed my weekend—so much so, the last thing I want to do is return here.
Upon hearing the heavy sigh I couldn’t stifle, Noah shuts down his engine before jerking his chin up. “Come here.”
When I scoot across the cracked leather bench, he adjusts me until my back is leaning against his chest and his arms are curled around my front. He wraps me up so firmly, I feel every inhalation he takes.
“Remember your dreams, Beautiful. That’s why you're here.”
My heart clutches as tears wet my eyes. I’ve wanted to be a school teacher since the first grade. My teacher, Ms. McMahon, was the loveliest and kindest person I had ever met. She taught me how to read and put a Band-Aid on my skinned knee after I fell off my bike while riding to school. I admired her for years, and I was adamant I’d have the same connection with my own students one day.
When she died of breast cancer when I was in eighth grade, I was gutted. Not just for myself, but the hundreds of students who’d miss out on being taught by a person born to teach. With my early goals still in mind, I studied hard throughout high school. My parents couldn’t afford to send me to college, so I did everything in my power to get a scholarship.
I was ecstatic when my goals panned out, yet here I am moping like a spoiled little brat because my cell service in my room is crap. Noah is right; I need to pull up my big girl panties and stop acting like a baby.
I suck in a big breath, confident I’ve got this. Hearing my silent pledge as loudly as me, Noah gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze. With them lighter than they were only seconds ago, I tilt back to kiss him goodbye before sliding across the seat and hopping down from his truck.
I’m about to twirl back around to add to my goodbye with words, but the creak of a car door opening stops me. Noah is no longer behind his steering wheel. He’s jogging around the bed of his truck, his smile as blinding as the sunrays bouncing off the silver box he’s holding.
“I’ve gotta walk my girl to her door.”
With a playful wink, he clasps my hand in his before guiding me toward my building. I don’t know why I’m shocked. He may be an up-and-coming rock star, but he’s been a gentleman a lot longer than that.
When we stop in front of my paint-peeled door, I shove my key into the lock and swing it open. “Home sweet home.”
I pace into my room with Noah following closely behind. While I place my bag on my desk, he peruses the many photos I have of him and me together on my bookshelf.
“I like this one.” He twists around a photo Jenni took of us at Bronte’s Peak. It was the first time we got our friends together for a BBQ. We’re standing waterside, peering lovingly into each other’s eyes. We were so enamored with one another, we didn’t notice Jenni was taking our picture.
After setting down the frame, Noah sits on my bed. The silver box he’s clasping contrasts with my dark bedding, making it even more noticeable.
“What’s in the box?” I’ve always been impatient, so the suspense is killing me.
Noah arches a brow into his hairline. “Come here, and I’ll show you.”
As I stroll toward him, I try to act as seductive and sexy as him. I feel ridiculous, but Noah’s smile reveals he appreciates my effort. With my dorm room being teeny tiny, it doesn't take many strides to reach him, meaning my hips didn’t achieve half the swing I was aiming for.
When I sit down next to him, Noah places the box on my lap. “Is it for me?” I sound shocked. Rightfully so. It isn't my birthday, so I wasn’t anticipating a gift.
When Noah nods, curiosity gets the better of me. Carefully, I undo the ribbon before cracking open the lid. My heart sings when I notice a tiny silver object inside. It's shiny, sparkly, and brand-spanking new.
“Noah...” I add to my excitement by hugging him tightly. "Thank you so much!"
He snatches the box off my lap. “Here, let me get it out for you.”
My eyes bounce between him and the box, my happiness uncontained. “I can’t believe you bought me a phone!”
I still have the dated phone Lola handed down to me years ago. This one is shiny and new, and way more technical than I'm used to.
Noah sounds like he’s talking from experience when he says, “You need to get a cover for it, because if you drop it, the screen will shatter. Jacob swears this brand has better reception than your old phone, so it should work in your dorm.”
I’m so excited I can barely contain myself. I should be angry he spent his hard-earned money on me, but I’m so relieved we can resume our nightly chats, I’ll accept his gift without too much guilt.
Noah grins before spinning around the screen to face me. “There you go, two bars.”
With the scream of a teenage girl much younger than me, I snatch my phone out of his hand and dial a number known by heart. I nearly cry when my call connects without the message I’ve heard on repeat the past week.
Noah chuckles while digging his ringing cell out of his pocket. He may be sitting right next to me, but he’ll always be the first person I’ll call on both good and bad days.
Chapter 23
Noah
When Nick and I break through the double glass doors of Destiny Records, a brisk wind blasts into us. “Damn, it’s freezing!”
A chill runs down my spine when the wind blowing off the ocean cuts through me like a knife. I zip up my leather jacket. Nick wasn’t joking; it’s fucking freezing. We don’t usually get snow around these parts, but with how frosty it is, I’m beginning to wonder if Ravenshoe is about to experience its first white Christmas.
Crisp air puffs from my lips when I bid farewell to Nick. “See you tomorrow.”
I pat him on the shoulder before heading to my truck parked at the back of the studios. When we signed our contract, I thought it would only be a matter of months before our songs were on the radio. Let me tell you, it's been a longer, more drawn-out process than I was anticipating. We haven't even stepped foot inside a recording studio yet.
Thank fuck that is about to change. Although our last four months have been tied up with logistical red tape, we did compile enough songs to fill an album. After a two-week break over the upcoming Christmas-New Year period, we'll start laying down tracks. It’s been a torturous few months, but I’m still excited about what’s to come. I’ve always loved the music industry, and my admiration grew when I learned how much effort goes into every song produced.
After cranking the heater in my truck to full pelt, I head home. Commuter traffic is at its worst, meaning I don’t pull into the driveway of Jacob’s house until 6:30 PM. I usually call Emily at seven, so I’ll wash off the funk I'm feeling before calling her. I can’t call her while agitated. She can tell when something is bothering me, and I don’t want to place this burden on her shoulders.
Today has been an uphill battle. Mickie, the songwriter the execs hired to help find lyrics from our album, wanted to change “Surrender Me,” the song I wrote for Emily. He wants it to be a song about heartbreak i
nstead of repair.
No matter how fucking angry Mickie got, I flatly refused. He’s a colossal bastard, nearly the height of Jacob, but he's Sudanese, so compared to Jacob's pasty skin, his is as dark as night. We get along most of the time, but today I wanted to strangle the huge son of a bitch. Although today I had a win, it wasn’t done without carnage.
While rubbing a kink out of my neck, I cross my bedroom floor, heading for my attached bathroom on the far right. My breath hitches when I raise my eyes in just enough time to spot Emily. She’s sleeping in my bed, wearing nothing but panties and one of my shirts. Today is only Tuesday, so I’m not only shocked by her unexpected arrival, I’m panicked.
Walking over, I kneel next to the bed so my eyes can rake her enticing body. Even snoring, she’s undeniably beautiful. Her face is fresh and radiant, revealing she hasn’t been crying—her eyes go puffy when she’s upset—and her forehead is free from lines. Neither her face or her body reveal the reason for her impromptu sleepover.
I lose the chance to deliberate further when her eyes flutter open. She startles for the quickest second, shocked to see me crouched in front of her, but she pushes away her surprise, replacing it with a blinding smile.
“You okay?” I keep my tone neutral, even though I’m beyond panicked.
Her smile enlarges. “I’m fine.”
Any concerns I’m having vanish when she leaps out of my bed to seal her mouth over mine. She kisses me senseless, a kiss so mind-hazing, I forget my name, what day it is, and what planet I live on.
My head is still woozy when she pulls back and raises her eyes to mine. “Happy birthday, Noah.”
A smirk furls my lips. I should have known she’d realize today is my twenty-second birthday. Not only is she a snoop, but she also makes big deals out of the little things others forget. I haven’t celebrated my birthday in the last seven years. Even before Michael died, my parents weren’t big on celebrations. I usually got new school clothes or shoes, and on special birthdays we had a cake after dinner.