Saving Noah

by Shandi Boyes

  I haven’t seen or heard from Delilah the past month. To be honest, I don’t give a fuck what’s going on with her, as long as she’s kept away from Emily. When Jacob let slip about some run-ins Emily had with Delilah, I was furious. Jacob swore he took care of it, and I trust he did. He protects the people he cares about just as fiercely as I do. For that alone, I’ll be forever in his debt.

  So here I am, four months after my accident, and one month after waking up, I’m finally allowed to go home. I’m not walking out the same Noah I once was. My leg was severely broken, leaving me with a slight limp, which Dr. Miller guarantees will vanish over time, and I have a scar running down my forehead from where I head-butted the doorframe. I’m scarred both mentally and physically, but Emily still looks at me like I’m the only star in the sky, so that’s all that matters. Nothing but her and our baby matter. The rest is just white noise.

  “Ready?” Cormack joins us at the double glass exit doors of the hospital.

  I smile before dipping my chin. “As ready as we’ll ever be.”

  With Emily cradled under my arm and my hand hovering over her stomach, we walk headfirst into a tsunami of reporters and fans.

  Chapter 59

  Emily

  Noah’s eyes pop out of his head. “How much?”

  After grinning a beaming smile, Cormack repeats his estimate. “Ninety-eight million dollars.”

  Feeling woozy, I take a seat at the dining table Cormack and the band are seated around. Cormack has been updating the band on how well their album has been selling since Noah woke from his coma. Never one to tiptoe around the obvious, Slater asked Cormack straight-up what type of royalties the band would see from “all those sales.”

  We were aware their album held the number one spot for months, but we had no clue what that meant money-wise. Now we do. In not even six weeks, the band has earned themselves ninety-eight million dollars.

  When silence descends around me, I peer at Noah. His mouth is open wide, and he’s frozen in place. It’s only when Nick and Slater bound out of their seats to scream in jubilation does he finally snap out of his trance.

  “Can you believe it?” He drops to his knees in front of me before placing his hands on each side of my belly. “We did it.” My heart melts when he kisses my rapidly growing bump.

  “I knew you would.”

  Not wanting the baby to steal all the glory of his excitement, I pull his handsome face to mine to give him a long, tantalizing kiss. I don’t care who’s watching. I have months of missed kisses to make up for, so I get them in at every available opportunity.

  Noah and I only stop sucking face when Jacob slaps Noah’s shoulder. “You did it!”

  Noah’s lips rise against mine before he stands to return Jacob’s excitement. “We did it, Jake; we fucking did it.”

  When Noah slings his arms around Jacob’s shoulders, Jacob’s face goes deadpan. Noah has never been overly affectionate, but I’ve noticed an uptick in man hugs and bro cuddles with Jacob and his bandmates since his accident. I hate that it took a near-death scare for him to realize how many people love and adore him, but at least it happened before it was too late.

  My hand darts up to stifle my giggles when Jacob spins Noah around the room like he usually does me. “You love my big teddy hugs.”

  “Put me the fuck down, Jacob!”

  Noah’s anger only makes Jacob spin him more. He twirls and twirls and twirls him until Noah’s stomach curdles as violently as mine did the first three months of my pregnancy.

  Can you imagine the shock? Discovering you are pregnant by reading a note your fiancé left to say he arranged his transportation to the airport.

  Noah signed the bottom of his note, “I can’t wait for you to be my wife and the mother of my children.” I read his message over a dozen times before it finally dawned as to why my eyes wouldn’t stop watering, and I was extra emotional from his note. My period was late.

  That’s how I stumbled upon Noah’s accident. I was racing to tell him about our baby.

  But instead of it being the most glorious day of our life, it was the most tragic.

  Seeing Noah like that... I can't put it into words. It was horrific, an image I'd give anything to remove from my mind. The three months he spent in a coma were the hardest three months of my life. I endured vicious run-ins with Delilah and members of the paparazzi who don't understand the word respect, but those exchanges were nothing compared to the pain I encountered when I woke up one morning with my underwear covered with bright red blood.

  Unless you’re a woman in the glow of pregnancy, you’ll never understand the terror that shreds through you when you think you’re having a miscarriage. You blame yourself. You think you did something wrong. When in reality, nothing you did or could have done would change the outcome. Some babies are born to live. Others aren’t.

  I thank my lucky stars every single day that our baby was a fighter like his daddy. Noah fought to find his way back to me, just like his son or daughter fought to hold on. They’re both strong-willed individuals I’ll worship until the day I take my final breath.

  I check my cheeks for wetness when Jacob finally relents to Noah’s threats of disembowelment. Noah stops in front of me, his wobbly legs barely keeping him upright. “Stop looking for a house. I know the perfect one for us to buy.”

  “Okay. Where...?” I leave my question open, hoping he’ll fill in the gaps. He does no such thing. He just presses his lips to mine before bolting into our bedroom.

  When he was discharged from the hospital, we headed straight for Jacob’s. Jacob is family, and he welcomed us with open arms, but with a baby on the way, the sooner we find a place of our own, the better. I’m not nesting—yet—I’m just dying for a little bit of privacy.

  I’ll forever love Rise Up, but with Noah not itching to get back to the industry he adores any time soon, Jacob’s house is constantly overrun with rowdy bandmates and associates of theirs. Excluding the times we’re snuggling in bed, I barely get Noah by myself.

  Noah and I talked a lot about the band the past two weeks. Although he’s planning to go back to music at some point, he won’t make any definite plans until after our baby is born. A couple of months won’t hurt anyone. It will give Noah time to recover, and will have him going back refreshed and eager to entertain his fans. Even Cormack agrees a few months will be good for all involved.

  After showing Cormack out, I head to our room to see what Noah is up to. He’s taking a call, but he notices me in an instant. He summons me to his side with the wiggle of two fingers. When I reach him, he pulls me down until I’m straddled on his lap. Air hisses between my teeth when I feel how hard he is. I was afraid he wouldn’t find me attractive once he woke from his coma—I did look like I had swallowed a cantaloupe.

  I had no reason to fret.

  Within days, I realized Noah couldn’t get enough. He’s always been an attentive and affectionate lover, but it grew tenfold since his accident—even more so since we don’t need to keep watch for nurses like we did when he convinced me to get freaky with him at the hospital.

  Dr. Miller hasn’t looked me in the eyes since she walked in on us after a physical therapy session one afternoon. She was polite and quickly diverted her eyes, but her cheeks were the color of beets when she darted out of the room.

  I haven’t been the only one a little sensitive the past two weeks. Noah will never say anything, but I know he’s worried his limp ruins his appeal. But the exercises Dr. Miller has him doing twice daily means you hardly notice it anymore, and the scar on his forehead is a great conversation-starter.

  For someone who hates talking, Noah loves making up stories to tell strangers about the gash on his head. You wouldn’t believe the stories he makes up. They range from being bitten by a shark to being eaten by a grizzly bear. They believe him too! It’s only when he can't stop shaking at the end of his story do they realize they've been punked.

  “Four weeks?”

  I graze
my teeth along Noah’s earlobe, feeling his cock twitch, before dropping my lips to his neck. I’m doing my best to pretend I’m not paying any attention to his conversation, where in reality, I’m eavesdropping like he’s about to spill next week’s Powerball numbers.

  “If you offer them more, can they shave it down to one?” He pauses a beat before continuing. “I don’t care how much, as long as it’s ASAP.”

  I stare at a speckle of dust on the windowsill when Noah detects my snooping eye. With a grin of a man who makes my pussy tingle, he stands, taking me with him. He carefully deposits me onto our bed and mouths for me to stop being a snoop, before tapping my backside and exiting his room with a strut that leaves no doubt his sexy rock star swagger is back full force.

  Approximately two weeks later, Noah requests for me to go for a drive with him. During our twenty-minute trip, I try to pry out of him where we’re going. He’s better at keeping secrets than me. He only smiles before telling me to be patient.

  When his truck pulls into a familiar-looking driveway, excitement bubbles in my veins. “You rented the cabin again?”

  My insides tap dance. I fell in love with this cabin the first time we came here, but we didn’t get much chance to enjoy it with everything that happened between Nick and Jenni.

  “Is it just us staying? Or are the rest of the guys coming too?” I peer past my shoulder, praying there isn’t a lineup of cars behind us.

  There isn’t. It’s just us. Yes!

  After parking his truck at the front of a four-car garage, Noah throws open his door before running around to assist me down from his truck. “Careful,” he murmurs when I hop down the last step.

  He’s such a worrywart, forever panicked me or the baby might get hurt. I don’t know why. We weren’t the ones who spent three months in the hospital. I did have that one scare a few weeks ago, but other than that, things have been relatively smooth.

  As we walk hand in hand toward the cabin, I take in its beauty. It's not a rustic cabin by any means. It has two stories, six bedrooms, large wrap-around porches, and a kitchen a gourmet chef would jizz in his pants to cook in. It sits on nearly an acre of land, and the neighbors are far enough away that it's quiet, but it doesn't have that isolated, country feel you get when you live in the middle of nowhere.

  Noah’s quick strides stop when we reach the front door. “I have to do this right.”

  A girly squeal rips through my lips when he bends down to hoist me off the ground. He cradles me in his arms like a husband would a wife while carrying her over the threshold.

  I realize that’s exactly what he’s doing when he enters the foyer. “Welcome home, Beautiful.”

  My eyes snap to his as my pulse spikes. “You bought the cabin?”

  My heart beats triple time when he nods. “Really?” When he nods again, I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tight. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” I place a kiss on his face with every declaration of love I make.

  “So you’re not angry?”

  “Why would I be angry? I love this cabin! It’s private too, so the annoying paparazzi will be less likely to get a picture of us here.”

  Noah’s jaw tightens. On his way out of the hospital, at Noah’s request, Cormack arranged a press conference at the front. There were thousands of fans in attendance, excited to see Noah walk out of the hospital. Noah began the junket by announcing that we’re engaged and expecting our first child at the end of June. Although there was a handful of disgruntled faces, for the most part, fans have been supportive of us and our relationship.

  The paparazzi though...not a day has gone by without me hearing the click of a camera. Even the most mundane tasks don't scare them away. I was hanging clothes on the line the other day when Jacob's dad, Tom, watered out a pesky reporter with a garden hose. He complained he would sue us for damages, but he calmed down when Tom said next time he'll shoot him for trespassing. Tom wasn't joking.

  After hearing what had happened, Cormack hired a bodyguard to stay with us. Because Noah is forever concerned about my safety, he sided with Cormack. I wasn’t worried. Who in their right mind would break into a house that has both a previous fighting champion and an overprotective father-to-be inside? You’d have to be certifiably mad.

  My thoughts return to the present when Noah sweeps me back into his arms. “Time to christen the master suite.”

  “We already have.”

  I’m not joking, every surface of that room was thoroughly christened our first visit here.

  I grow wet when Noah presses his lips to my ear. “Yeah, but that was when we were guests. We get to do it as owners this time around.”

  Chapter 60

  Noah

  “Dr. Morgan kept saying, ‘he,’ during the scan?”

  My gaze drifts from the road to Emily, who is sitting in the passenger seat of my truck. She looks the same as she did when I woke from my coma, except now it appears as if she shoved a basketball down her shirt.

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Yes, it does! He didn’t just say it once he said it three times—I was counting.”

  Fuck, she's beautiful when she's playful like this. If I weren't driving down the freeway, I'd pull her luscious lips to mine to ravish her beautiful mouth. Instead, I continue our banter. “He called the baby a ‘he’ so he wouldn’t have to call it an ‘it.’ He was being professional.”

  Emily rolls her eyes. “In just a few short weeks, you’ll be eating your words, Noah-Stubborn-Taylor.”

  My cock braces against my zipper when she giggles. Fuck, I love her laugh. Her smile. Her face. I love everything about her.

  “Uh-huh, we’ll see who’s wrong.”

  Ten minutes later, I pull my truck into the driveway of the cabin we now call home. It’s been an amazing few months. I get Emily to myself for twenty-four hours of every day. We cook together; we talk; we make love, then we laze around just enjoying each other’s company. I had no clue how vital downtime was until I thought I lost everything important to me.

  I’m still struggling to remember I never lost Emily, that my mind was just playing tricks on me, but it’s becoming easier with each day that passes. It’s amazing how much comfort I get from never letting her out of my sight. I’d keep it this way forever if I could.

  “Can you pull in close to the stairs? I’m about to burst.”

  I laugh before doing as instructed. We’re returning from Emily’s fourth ultrasound with her obstetrician, Dr. Morgan. Although my mother works as a receptionist at Dr. Morgan’s clinic, Emily really wanted Dr. Morgan to be her obstetrician. She had a bond with him after he assured her a low-lying placenta was the cause of her scare the day I had my heart attack, and I hated that my mother was stopping her from having what she wanted. I had promised her the world, and I intended to keep my promise.

  It took some negotiating, but Dr. Morgan now oversees Emily's care, and instead of her going to his office, he visits Emily at our house. It’s costing me a pretty penny, but the look on Emily’s face when Dr. Morgan came for her first appointment was worth a million.

  Emily is now thirty-six weeks pregnant. We found out today that the placenta has moved out of the way so she can have a natural birth. I’m ecstatic, because the idea of her going under the knife freaks me the fuck out. Her being injured in any way is one of the neuroses I’m still working through. Just like all my recoveries, it will happen—eventually.

  Emily snickers when I dart around from my truck to help her down. She thinks I’m a worrywart, but she doesn’t know what I went through. I still have nightmares about losing her and our baby. They feel as real as the months I was in a coma. I wake up screaming with drenched clothes and vomit sitting at the base of my throat. One glance at Emily’s face while she sleeps calms me down in an instant, but that’s also the reason I can’t let her out of my sight. I don’t know how I’ll respond if I wake up like that and she’s not there.

  As Emily waddles toward our house, my cel
l rings. Pulling it out of my jeans pocket, I notice it’s a call from Jacob. “I’ll be a minute, Em.”

  She raises her arm, acknowledging she heard me, but she’s in too much of a hurry to reply.

  After swiping my hand over my screen, I press my phone to my ear. “Hey, Jake.”

  “Hey, is Em with you?”

  A grin curls on my lips. “Nah, she just waddled into the house.”

  Jacob’s laughter joins mine. “About to pee her pants again?”

  “Something like that.”

  He takes a moment to settle his chuckles before advising why he’s calling. “Sparks can do the aisle as you’re requesting, but their quote made my eyes water.”

  Jacob could have a million dollars in his account, yet a $100 bill makes him want to cry. He’s not cheap. He’s just...cheap.

  “I don’t care how much it costs. I’m happy to pay if the aisle will be like I envision.”

  He whistles like I’m made out of money. With how well our album is doing, I’m beginning to wonder if I am.

  “Alright, I was just checking. I’ll call you later.”

  After christening the cabin for a second time, I asked Emily to be my wife—again. I balked when she responded by jumping out of bed to get dressed. When I asked her what she was doing, she said we were going to get the first flight to Vegas and marry the instant we land. I was stoked she was as eager to get hitched as I was, but I wanted us to have something more memorable than a Vegas quickie.

  When I told her that, tears welled in her eyes, but she agreed we deserved something special after everything we had been through. She seemed a little apprehensive when I said I wanted us to wed before our baby was born. It was selfish of me to want her to have my last name before our child enters the world, but that wasn’t the only reason I wanted to marry her so quickly. I know just how fast the rug can be pulled out from beneath your feet, so I didn’t want to waste a single moment.