Well, it didn’t, really. I wouldn’t have died from it or anything quite so dramatic. But Noah, being Noah, cared for me.
And I hated that too.
Maybe I wasn’t technically functional, but I didn’t want to be treated like an invalid either. In all honesty, I started to resent him for it. For treating me that way. For treating me the way I was acting.
I was certain he was beginning to resent me as well.
Who wouldn’t?
Around day five of this shit show, Noah texted and said he was running late, and that if I wanted to eat, I should go ahead, as he was going to be a few hours.
The reporters had died down. Even their calls were few and far between.
I didn’t eat. Food stopped sounding good.
And I was relieved he wasn’t coming home for a bit. His constant caring was exhausting.
I curled up with Harper, Ron, and Andy at my feet, and fell asleep. Again.
IT WASdark when Noah woke me up. A firm shake of my shoulder and a no-nonsense demand to get out of bed.
I pulled out of his grip.
He shook me again. “Wake up, Randall. Time to get up.” He reached out and lifted Harper out of my arms and sat her on the floor. Actually took away my dog. I could hear her paws scrambling on the bed frame as she tried to get back to me.
Opening my eyes, I glared at him. “Did you really just do that?”
“Time to get out of bed.” As if to prove his point, he hoisted a suitcase up and shoved it on top of the bedspread, hitting my ankle in the process.
I jerked my leg away. “Ouch. What the hell are you doing?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.” He looked like he meant it, but turned away a second later and pulled open the top drawer of my dresser and began pulling out clothes. “Time to get out, Randall.” Turning again, he dumped an armful of socks and underwear beside the suitcase.
“What are you doing?” My spike of temper was already fading, too much effort even for that.
He unzipped the suitcase. “We’re getting out of here. It’s time for you to stop being in bed all the time.”
And then it was back. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. I didn’t accept that from my family, and I’m not playing that game with you.”
He raised his brows. The unspoken “Oh, really?” not necessary.
“I didn’t ask for you to take care of me, Noah. Go do your thing. I’ll take Harper and go back to my place. You said the reporters are gone. I’ll be fine.”
He flinched then. Just a bit. “Is that your way of saying you’re done with us?”
It wasn’t, but I couldn’t get myself to say that. Maybe it would be best. He deserved better, I was tired of not living up to expectations.
Noah inspected me for a bit, then began stuffing clothes into the suitcase. “I’ll give you this, Randall Morgan. You’re exhausting. Part of me can’t blame you. Going through all of this, having people say the things they are saying. But this?” He gestured over the bed. “Really? This is your response? To lie here like a lump for days on end? Choosing to be miserable, shut out the people who love you?”
He was right. I knew that. However, I knew it before he said anything. No news there. “I haven’t asked you to do any of it, Noah. There’s no reason to hold it against me. So I haven’t measured up to the man you thought I was. I warned you at the beginning. I’m not who you hoped I’d be. What did you say to that? That we’re meant to be. Well, is this who you are meant to be with?” I motioned down my body.
Noah met my eyes, unwavering. “No.”
My mouth dropped open. That I hadn’t expected.
His gaze turned hard. “What, Randall? Was I supposed to say yes to that? That I’m meant to spend my life with someone who runs and hides and stays in bed instead of having a backbone? Have you misinterpreted who I am? Do you think that I’m weak? That because I love you, because I have always loved you, that I’m willing to go along with anything? I’m not.”
He was right. I didn’t think he’d leave. Not really.
