“You used to do that too.”
“Did you always rescue me?”
“Frequently.”
I went down first, then stood on the second rung from the top.
“Turn toward me.”
Noah did.
His left arm remained weak, so I positioned my hands at his waist while he lowered his right foot.
The boat moved beneath him.
His grip tightened.
“I have you.”
“I know.”
He came down one rung.
Then another.
At the bottom, his injured hip stiffened. He lost the angle for the last step and leaned into me.
I closed my arms around him.
His feet reached the floor, but neither of us moved away.
Noah looked up.
“You could be annoyed.”
“I am.”
“You’re hiding it.”
“I’m choosing not to make fear your punishment.”
His gaze softened.
“That’s an irritatingly good answer.”
“I practiced while you were on the ladder.”
His hands rested at my sides.
“Are you still angry?”
“Yes.”
“Would kissing help?”
“No.”
His mouth curved.
