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“Why do people hurt other people? Steal their life? One second they’re there, and then,” I attempted to snap my fingers but nothing happened. “Poof, they’re gone and you’re alone.”
“I don’t know,” Noah answered, his voice low. “As many times as I’ve witnessed the worst of people….I still don’t know.” He squeezed my hand. “But….I’ve also seen kindness, and people that will go above and beyond to help someone in need. There’s good in this world and I can only hope it tips the scales.”
I rolled my head against the headrest, studying him as he watched the road. “You truly believe that,” I stated and he glanced at me.
“I do.”
“You ever think maybe you’re the good?” His lips parted but he didn’t answer. “If you would have asked me two days ago if guys like you existed, I would have said no.”
“And now?”
I inhaled and turned my head back to the window. “Now, I regret not meeting you sooner.” I tugged my hand from his hold, curling my fingers together as I rested my head against the cool glass of the car’s window.
“We’re almost home,” he said hollowly as the sound of the car’s blinker filled the air.
“Home,” I echoed, my voice wistful. “I don’t know where that is.”
“Where you choose to make it,” he answered, pulling under the carport and cutting the engine, still staring straight ahead. “When you decide to stop running, that is.”
I jerked my head toward him, then let out a groan as it started to throb. “Let’s get you inside,” he murmured, exiting the car before I could say a word. He came around and helped me out, ignoring me when I tried to do it on my own. “Up we go.”
I headed for my little travel trailer, but he swung me around. “In the house.” I started to protest and he shook his head, making a negative noise. “I know what you drank and alcohol poisoning is a real possibility. I’m keeping an eye on you until I know you’re okay.”
“You trying to get in my pants?” I accused, almost falling down when I tried to step into the house and only managing to save myself by grabbing his belt. He glanced down where my hands gripped his waistband and arched an eyebrow.
“Are you trying to get in mine?”
“Don’t twist this,” I had to think for a minute. “Around.” I jabbed my finger upward, happy I’d gotten it. “Me first.”
His eyes glittered as he leaned forward, his face impossibly close and I had to resist the urge to close my eyes as he whispered, “I can promise you, you’ll always come first, but let’s wait until you’re sober.”
He straightened and I swayed, my hand slipping on his belt buckle and he groaned, capturing my fingers. “If you don’t kill me first,” he muttered under his breath, walking me backwards until my knees bumped the couch. “You can sleep it off here.”
“I’m not sleepy,” I protested, rubbing my eyes, as I sprawled backwards on the couch. I curled into the cushions as he watched, his expression bemused. “I’m fine.”
“Of course,” he replied, placating me. “You just drank a flask of 100 proof moonshine that I’ve seen send grown men to the hospital. You’re fine.”
“Damn straight,” I agreed, thrusting my hand up and then twisting it around to look at it. “Hands are weird.” Nico flew over my head. “Birdie!” His beady eye inspected me.
“Shitfaced. Plastered. Got in the hooch,” he cawed, his feathers ruffling.
“Mean birdie,” I muttered, frowning, as I tugged on my sleeves, suddenly hot. “Why is it so hot?”
“I can turn the air down,” Noah said quickly and I smiled at him gratefully. His hand skimmed my arm, his palm running from my wrist to my elbow and I shivered. “Be right back.” He hurried out of the room and Nico pecked at my hair, I waved my hands wildly and he flew off with a disgruntled squawk.
Noah came back and I patted the sofa. Warily, he sat down and I crooked my finger at him, wanting him to come closer. He leaned over me, propping one hand on the back of the couch, his eyes curious. “I would let you in my pants,” I confided and his lips twitched. “I think all the girls in town would,” I added, compelled to be honest.
“I don’t want all the girls in town,” he replied and I smiled. “Just the mysterious stranger that rolled into my town with an attitude.”
“I don’t have an attitude,” I protested, my hand going to his chest. He grabbed it before I could make contact, his thumb stroking over a purple scar. “It doesn’t hurt,” I told him. “Not anymore.”
He lifted my arm, inspecting the twisting scars, the pattern cruelly beautiful in a way. “The person that did this…..are you safe from them?”
