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The first thing she'd seen had been the splintered side door, a temporary latch and broken crime tape on it. When she came inside, she didn't know how long she stood there frozen, staring at broken tea pots, shattered tables and chairs. Blood on the floor where Chloe had been beaten nearly to death after she'd gone toe-to-toe with the man who'd been after Marguerite. The twenty-something who'd always been mistaken for much younger because of her pixie face and joyous outlook on life had fought him with no defensive skills, just courage and determination to protect those she fiercely loved.
Gen could only stand in that aftermath, feeling helpless that she hadn't been there to protect Chloe, no matter how futile they'd all assured her that would have been. The intruder would have likely killed her or hurt her just as badly.
It didn't matter, didn't assuage the guilt at all. She'd thrown herself into cleaning everything up, arranging for the repairs, making sure that when Chloe and Marguerite came back, it would be as close to the way it had been as it could be. She'd cried every moment she'd scrubbed that blood off the floor. Regardless of the number of pieces, she'd glued every broken cup and tea pot back together. It didn't matter that they couldn't be used anymore. She knew what they meant to Marguerite.
All that passed through her mind in a flash and then she didn't think. She shoved open the door, calling out his name, hearing the terror in her voice. "Noah."
"Here. I'm back here. Wait there, don't come--"
But she was already hurrying down the short hallway. The guesthouse was basically an open kitchen and living area, with a walled off bedroom and bath, so it was only a few steps. However, as she arrived in the bedroom door, she understood why he'd tried to keep her from coming to him.
His bed was soiled. It looked and smelled like someone had urinated on it. Profusely. She pressed her hand against the framework, the world spinning. She'd also cleaned human urine and feces off the floor of Marguerite's office, left by someone so malevolent he'd marked like a beast the place M loved.
Though none of it had happened to Gen directly, she got a hint now of what it was to experience a post-traumatic episode. Spots marked her vision and she was back in Tea Leaves, scrubbing the floor, sobbing her sorrow and rage.
"Gen, it's all right. Come out here." Noah blocked her view. Nudging her with grim determination back into the front room, he pulled the bedroom door closed behind him. But it wasn't the only thing that had been vandalized. Looking around, she saw a small collection of books had been torn up. Dishes in the kitchen were on the floor, broken.
How was it that monsters like this could hate someone so much, they showed it by destroying everything that belonged to them? Had Noah been here when...
Her gaze snapped up to his face and then swept his body, her hands following, taking inventory. No blood, no torn clothing. He was whole. He was safe. She made herself take a shaky breath, realizing he'd closed his hands on hers, was making a soothing noise.
"Noah, what the hell...who did this?"
"He's already gone."
"He was here while you were here?"
"It's someone I used to know. He came to talk to me, and he got angry. He has anger issues."
"You think?" Gen realized he was shepherding her toward the door.
"I'm going to clean this up. Go on in the house. I'll be there soon."
"No." She planted her feet. "You're going to tell me right now what's going on, who he is, and why I shouldn't call the police. And don't you dare tell me we're not telling Lyda about this."
"I wouldn't do that. I'm going to tell her I need to live somewhere else. It's time for me to move on. He wouldn't hurt her, but this is just...this all belongs to her. He can't destroy things that belong to her."
It was the break in his voice that helped her look beyond her own fear and anger, focus on his misery. As well as the fact his hands were shaking. Not much, but enough to scare her, since he always seemed so placid. Taking a breath, she framed his face. Something in his wandering gaze had her worried he might slip from her fingers and disappear, even while he stood before her.
"Sshh," she said quietly. Firmly. "Look at me, Noah. Look at me."
He was looking at her now, but he wasn't focused. She repeated it, sharp and steady. The relief that gripped her when she saw him tune back in to her made her run her hands down over his shoulders, his arms. "Let's sit down. Let's take a breath."
The house was too small to sit anywhere that wouldn'
t be in view of the damage, so she drew him out to the front stoop, making him take a seat with her there. He was barefoot. He was lucky he hadn't gotten glass in his heels. She should check that, because his expression told her he might be in a little bit of shock.
"First things first. Did he hurt you?" Gen dialed back the emotions the very thought boiled forth, but she wasn't entirely successful, because Noah gave her a wary look.
"No."
"Not this time." She studied his face, read the truth there. She pushed back the long hair that fell over his shoulder as he leaned forward. "But it's happened before."
"I was his for a while. Then he moved on. And came back. And moved on." Noah shook his head. "It's complicated, Gen."
She could well imagine someone being obsessed with keeping Noah. Hell, she was already pretty tangled up over him. Even the hard-nosed Lyda was protective when it came to Noah. But Gen was putting together pieces. He'd come from New Orleans for the purported reason of taking care of his grandmother. He'd "belonged" to Tyler before Lyda. Lyda had goaded him with the comment about being his babysitter.
"Is he the one who collared you and then let you go?"
