"What? Choose you? Is it that horrible of a decision?"
She pinched his arm as she slid back down to her feet. "Ow," he said mildly. His expression was tired, but there was a peacefulness there. Not the usual floating Zen peacefulness she'd teased him about before she realized it was a lack of will to decide his own fate. This was something different. As he glanced toward the house, it was disrupted by a trace of nervousness. It made her want to hug him again.
"She's waiting for you," Gen said. "She made a cherry pie."
"Hmm."
Gen loo
ked toward Tyler. He'd gotten out of the car, but stayed on his side, the engine still running. He'd realized this wasn't a time to entertain a guest, even if that guest was the kind who'd drop everything to make a run to the hospital and intervene for a friend. Gen mouthed thank you to him. In response, the amber eyes warmed.
"Take care of him."
Nodding, she followed Noah. He'd taken a few steps toward the house and stopped. As the luxury sedan purred away down the drive, Gen gripped his hand.
"So how did you explain things to the hospital staff?" she ventured, hoping to cut his tension. His lips curved, though he winced at the pressure on his lip.
"Told them it was a one-on-one game that got out of hand. We never did say it was basketball, so it wasn't really untrue, all said and done."
"No," she agreed. She wanted to hold him again, the idea of losing him still so close and terrifying. It was like being on that cliff all over again. But she understood he had to make things square with Lyda first.
They went up the porch stairs. He held the door for her with his usual courtesy, and she let her hand slide across his abdomen as she stepped into the kitchen ahead of him. Lyda sat at the table. She'd pinched off a piece of crust and was nibbling at it. She'd had Gen pour her a glass of wine earlier and was still nursing that. Her leg was elevated on the opposite chair, her other foot braced on the bottom rung. She cocked her head at the sight of him.
"They did a good job setting the nose."
"Yes Mistress. If it's all right to call you that."
"You took three fists to the face for the privilege. A punishment I did not require."
"No Mistress."
Gen leaned against the counter so the field between them was clear. The lingering heat from the oven couldn't compete with the coolness in Lyda's gaze. Gen curled her hands into balls behind her, holding onto the oven handle to keep herself in place. She had to trust their Mistress.
"Why, Noah? What made the difference?" Lyda asked.
"Does it matter?"
"No. I asked to hear the sound of my own voice." Those silver eyes became ice.
He had the grace to flush. Cleared his throat. "That day..." He looked between them both. "On the mountain."
It was something that irrevocably linked them, and one of the main reasons Gen thought Lyda had kept the three of them sleeping together in her large bed ever since she'd recovered enough to make that feasible. No cages or guest beds, because when one of them woke, jerking from that nightmare, as they seemed to take turns doing, the other two were there, to comfort and hold in the middle of the night, confirming that it was the past, not the present.
"When I was hanging onto Gen, hoping the car would stop rocking... When I was pushing you up through the window, I kept having this one thought. If I lost you both, there was no one I'd ever again have in my life like you. No one who felt about me...the way the two of you do. Separately, together."
His brow furrowed. "It took me awhile to figure it all out, Mistress. It was hard."
Gen saw the expression she'd been trying to decipher since the day she'd lambasted Lyda for being such a difficult patient. It was the shadow of his soul, struggling behind that wall inside him, a wall he'd been beating himself against, trying to break through it, figure it out, despite the fact it was against his nature, finding a different path through those dark woods.
"But then, there was this one thing," he said. "Something I couldn't stop thinking, no matter how much I felt like I didn't deserve to think it. I wanted you both. More than I'd ever wanted anything."
He took a deep breath. "Since as long as I can remember, there's always been this place inside myself. Everything point A to point B, no curves, no confusion. No pain. Not really."
Safe. Like Gen's life had been. Every step planned so there'd be no mistakes, no risks. She expected it was why she'd felt an unconscious connection to Noah from the beginning, though she hadn't recognized that link until now. She wanted to step toward him, but held herself back. He wasn't done, his gaze still locked on the judge hearing his case.
"It was a prison," he said. "I didn't control anything that came in, and I couldn't let anything out. I took that choice away from myself because it felt...the way it should be. Or so I thought. But until you and Gen became something different than what I'd known, I didn't realize that belonging to anyone who wanted me, for however long they wanted me, but never having anyone I felt like was mine...it was lonely."
His voice broke, became a little thicker. His gaze dropped to the floor and Gen saw his eyes get a little brighter as well. "I was never enough for..."