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“Thank you. Hockey has given me a great ass,” I grin.

“I tend to choose activities I can walk to, because it’s a reminder that I’m capable of it. I may need to take it easier at times, but at one point, my case managers were discussing if getting me a wheelchair would be easier,” she says. “I fought hard to keep that from happening. I know it’s not a forever thing, and assistive, but not everyone understands that. It would have made school so much harder. Can you imagine what Chesterfield Prep would have been like for me?

“It’s a miracle I didn’t break anything when Kelsie and her little puppets beat the hell out of me. It might have been a different story if she’d pushed me down the stairs.”

Shuddering, I force myself to keep from telling Noor not to say her name. I’m too superstitious for my own good.

“I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” I admit. “Alastair cut ties with her and his dad at the same time. His ability to handle their bullshit is over.”

“Good for him. Maybe we can all find some freedom together,” she says. Her smile is infectious as I follow the directions to her house and I agree wholeheartedly.

I know she’s right. We need to show Zayn he can trust us, and that’ll come with time. He’s known Arran for years.

I pull into the driveway of her home, gazing at it for a long moment.

“This is beautiful,” I breathe.

“One of Emil’s birthday presents,” Noor says. “This is such a great house. Better yet? It’s safe.”

“I’ve never seen a gate at the porch,” I murmur, getting out. “I’ll get your door, baby.”

While it’s late, the porch light blazes cheerfully against the night. I look at the street, frowning when I don’t see any streetlights.

I don’t like that.

My feet carry me to Noor, and I curtail my thoughts. She said it was safe, and I believe her. I’m not going to come into her life and fuck with it.

I help her out of the vehicle and she pulls her purse onto her shoulder. I’m overwhelmed again by her pouty lips, her dark lashes as she looks up at me as if it’s just a random day of the week instead of what feels like the first day of the rest of our lives, or how much I need to kiss her before I leave.

I move her out of the way of the door and let it close before cupping her face and kissing her.

To making bad choices. Fuck it. Her hair moves in the wind, and I fix her shawl to keep her warm as I continue to drag my tongue over her lips. Her whine is music to my ears as I finally end the kiss and I sigh.

“I’ll see you soon,” I murmur. I can’t fucking bare to actually say goodbye.

“See you,” she whispers, slightly unsteady on her feet. This time, I know it’s from our kiss, and I chuckle as I sweep her off her feet and walk up the steps to the porch gate.

I set her down, watching as she lets herself in. It’s not until she’s opening the front door and pressing the lock button on her key fob that I pull out my phone to text Alastair to pick me up.

I’d much rather send them my location than some random ride share. My heavy footsteps take me toward the road when I hear a branch break. My feet twist as my head snaps upward, searching for the reason for the sound.

“Hello?” I bark out. “Who is out here? You leave her alone, hear me?”

I walk over, feeling as if I’m coming out of my skin. I’m afraid someone is where they shouldn’t be, but I’m also burning with protective instincts. Bending down, I feel all of that leave me as I pick up a stuffed humpback whale.

“Zayn?” I whisper. Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath and straighten, worried for another reason. “Hey, are you still out here? I need to know you’re okay, or I need to tell your mom. You can’t be running around. It's really late, kiddo.”

“I heard her car and came out to see her.” The gate is open and he peeks out, his head of curls wild on his head. I rub my chest, wondering if it’s possible to have a heart attack from shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you usually running around in the dark?” I ask, walking over to hand him his stuffy.

His lips purse in thought as he takes it back before responding.

“No. Your turn.”

“I went to an art show with her,” I say, squatting in front of him. “I found out that I’ve been in love with her for seven years through her mind and her art, and she told me she’s N. Z. Rummani. However, she didn’t tell me what it means.”

Even as I say that, some of it begins to click, but I need to talk some of this through with him. I don’t know what he saw, but if he heard the car, he likely heard other things as well. Fuck.