My pulse stumbled.
“What money?”
“You paused at lunch.”
I looked at him.
Noah’s gaze had sharpened despite fatigue.
“When I asked about bills.”
I chose each word carefully.
“The yard has less income because I have been away.”
“How much less?”
“We will discuss it with Dr. Whitcomb tomorrow.”
“That bad.”
“Not catastrophic.”
“You’re hiding it.”
“I’m controlling when we discuss information that may overwhelm you.”
“That is a very polished way to say hiding.”
“I will show you the accounts.”
“When?”
“After the doctor helps us make a plan.”
Noah looked away.
“I don’t want to be protected from my own life.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He remained quiet for a long time.
“I also don’t want another boat on the bench tonight,” he said.
Relief and guilt moved through me together.
“Tomorrow,” I promised.
“Tomorrow.”
His speech had begun to blur.
I stood.
