Shame tightened my stomach.
I climbed down.
I should have told him where I was going.
The whistle might have carried upstairs if the stairwell door had been open.
It wasn’t.
I dropped the rag into the bucket.
Then I heard my name.
Faint.
From above.
“Reid!”
I ran.
The stairs blurred beneath me.
I opened the apartment door hard enough that it struck the wall.
“Noah?”
A sob came from the bedroom.
I crossed the hall.
He sat against the headboard with the blanket twisted around his legs. His face was wet. His breath came too fast.
“You were gone.”
“I’m here.”
I approached the bed and stopped beyond reach.
“Can I touch you?”
His arms came toward me.
I sat and pulled him against my chest.
Noah clung with both hands.
“I called.”
“I didn’t hear. I was downstairs.”
“You left.”
“I was trying to give you space. I should have told you where I went.”
“I thought—”
His breath broke.
