“You’re a lawyer, Noah. It’s your job to lie.”
I pushed through the doors and walked out into the street. The city air was thick with exhaust, but it was better than the sterile suffocation of the police station.
I started walking, needing to put distance between myself, my father, and the rage that was still simmering under my skin.
Chapter four
Tristian
By the time the rage bled out of me, exhaustion settled in its place, adrenaline crash making my head throb. I needed caffeine if I was going to make it through my shift tonight.
I dipped into a coffee shop, bell chiming softly above the door.
I didn’t plan on stopping but then I saw her. Ingrid.
She was sitting in a booth near the window, looking small and out of place. She was shivering, arms tucked tightly around herself. And she was already staring at me.
Ignoring the heat that pooled inside me from just the sight of her alone, I walked over, unzipping my hoodie as I went. She looked freezing. Without a word, I peeled it off and draped the heavy, warm fabric over her shoulders before sliding into the seat across from her.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Didn’t think I’d find you freezing in a random café,” I muttered, watching a flush climb up the side of her neck.
“My coffee was supposed to warm me up…”
Possibly against my better judgment, I reached across the table to grab her hand. It was cold. I rubbed the back of it softly with my thumb, warming her skin.
“Judging by how cold your hands are, I’d say it wasn’t too successful.”
Her face burned brighter and I shook my head.
“I’m only joking.” I wasn’t, but it seemed to lessen her nerves.
Her eyes glued to the movement of my thumb against her skin. She was hyper-focused, like she’d never been touched with care before. And since she wasn’t pulling away, I continued the motion, my calloused fingers enjoying the soft feeling of her skin.
“You didn’t call,” I muttered. “Did you lose my number or something?”
The flush filled her cheeks. “No… I just…”
She trailed off, shrinking in on herself. I watched the discomfort rise and shook my head.
“It’s fine.”
It actually wasn’t. She’d stuck in my head ever since we met. Iwantedher to blow up my phone. But I obviously wasn’t going to tell her that.
Ingrid’s gaze drifted to my hand. The swelling had gone down a little, but the bruising was obvious. I’d washed the blood off in a gas station bathroom before coming in here, but there was no hiding the damage.
“What happened to your hand?” she asked softly.
Telling her about Brandon seemed like too much. So I kept it simple. “I box. Busted my hands this afternoon at the gym.” Technically true, though missing a lot of context.
“Are you OK?”
“Sure,” I said. “Takes a lot more than a few bruises to get me down.” Easing back in my seat, I released her hand. “So what have you been up to today?” I asked conversationally. I wanted her to relax and keep talking. I didn’t know why I wanted to know about her, every little thing. Regardless, this was the perfect opportunity.
She finally gazed up at me, her doe eyes guarded. “I finished my classwork, morning studies, harp lessons, and afternoon studies.”
I furrowed my brows. The way she fidgeted, picking at the hem of my hoodie, told me she wasn’t exactly thrilled about that roster. It sounded more like a schedule for a prisoner, not a young woman.
