“It’s pretty.” Putting the car in park, I slide out and rush to Noah’s door so I can help him. Which, of course, he doesn’t let me do.
“What is it with you and things being pretty? That car is not pretty.”
“Sexy?” I offer.
That earns me the tiniest smile. “Better.”
I reach for his arm, hoping to give him support, but he swats me away. Stupid man. If he bites the dust, I absolutely will not help him up.
We walk side by side to the front door. Well, I walk. Noah hobbles. He manages to maneuver his way up the three steps leading to his front door, and he unlocks it before turning toward me.
“Thank you for driving me home, but there’s really no need for you to stay.”
“Yes, there is,” I say, pulling his discharge paperwork out of my purse. “You have to elevate your ankle and ice it two to three times a day, and this says you need to stay off of it, which means—”
Noah grabs the paperwork from my hand. “Lennon,” he says, sounding annoyed. “I appreciate the help, but I’m a grown-ass man, and I can take care of myself. I don’t need you or anyone else. I’ve had worse injuries than a sprained ankle, and I’ve managed just fine. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go inside, get some rest, and try to salvage what’s left of my weekend.”
My shoulders deflate, along with a tiny, itty-bitty piece of my confidence, and maybe a little chunk of my pride. I’ve been kind, gone out of my way to be nice and take care of him—the least I can do after this morning—but he seems more irritated than grateful.
“Okay. Yeah, I get it. Sorry…about today.”
“It’s okay,” he says, probably grateful that he’s about to get rid of me. “You do have a place to stay, right?”
“Yes.” I nod. Although it hits me that I have absolutely no idea where that place is. And then I remember that when I find it, I’ll be completely alone—in a strange town, in a strange house, by myself. Pressure builds behind my eyes as the weight of the day and, hell, the whole damn week comes crashing down around me, and I look down, desperate to keep the tears from falling. “I, uh…I should probably get going. I still need to find it and then hit the grocery store.”
“Where are you staying? I can try to tell you how to get there.”
“I’m not sure. I’ll just plug the address into the GPS on my phone.”
Digging my phone out of my purse, I step away and pretend to know what I’m doing. I really don’t. Brenna already has it programmed, but Noah doesn’t need to know that.
“Hmm…”
“What?” Noah asks.
“It’s not far. I shouldn’t have any problems.” Without another word, I get in my car and back up. Peeking through my rearview mirror, I see that Noah is still standing on his front porch. I sit there for a few seconds, hoping he’ll go inside, but he doesn’t.
This should be interesting.
Looking at my phone, I follow the map, watching as the little blue marker on my screen guides me. I drive to the end of the driveway and turn right, as instructed, following the road forty or fifty feet before stopping in front of another driveway, this one leading up to a quaint little white house with black shutters.
There’s a large front porch with a wooden rocking chair tucked in the corner, and I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face. I’ve always wanted a porch and a rocking chair.
Pulling up to the garage, I put my car in park and step out. Turning toward Noah, across the yard, I shrug. “Home sweet home,” I say, motioning toward the house.
Happenstance at its finest.
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds before turning toward his front door, and although I can’t hear him, I can clearly make out the two words that pass through his lips as he walks inside, still looking my way. “Fuck me.”
“Leni,” Brenna growls, causing me to flinch. “When I told you to stay out of the news, I didn’t just mean in New York. The last thing your father needs right now is something like this.”
I knew I shouldn’t have told her about the accident. I love Brenna to death, I really do, but she worries about everything. Granted, it’s her job to worry about everything, being my father’s publicist, but sometimes she crosses the line.
“I wasn’t in the news—”
“Not yet you weren’t.” She sighs at the same time I shove a bite of pizza in my mouth. “I just really need you stay off the radar.”