If she’s going to forgive—if she’s going to reach out—she’ll come here. She’ll open up to Noah.
If there’s any hope for any of us, it exists in this place.
But each passing day feels like an infected wound that’s starting to fester.
Sighing, I close my eyes and press my back into the wall.
“Merce?” The single syllable is followed by a quiet knock. “Dinner’s just about done. Want to come out and eat with me?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Noah is in his element, making coffee for me each morning, preparing food and forcing me to eat, even when I insist I’m not hungry. He’s made sure I’m out the door on time. He has all his chores around the orchard wrapped up by the time I get home each afternoon, ensuring I’m rarely alone.
And what have I fucking done besides contribute to his heartache and create more work for him?
I stare at my bare feet hanging off the side of the bed, drowning in a listlessness I can’t shake. But for Noah, I’ll do anything.
“Yeah,” I call back. “I’ll be out in three minutes.”
His footsteps are quiet on the hardwood floor as he walks away.
I close my eyes and count, steadying my breathing until I hit one hundred twenty.
With one minute to spare, I force my back to straighten and rise out of bed.
The room is dark now that the sun has set. My computer monitor usually provides an ambient glow, but I’ve been on leave from Better Yet for more than two weeks. It’s the longest I’ve gone without a shift since I started volunteering more than a decade ago.
I trudge toward the door, every step weighted, each movement requiring maximum effort.
The temptation to stay put is strong.
The desire to fade into the darkness and cease to exist dominates my mind.
The phantom burning sensations on my inner thighs taunts me mercilessly, reminding me of how weak and useless and pathetic I really am.
By the time I reach the door handle, I want to crumple into a heap and sleep.
But I push myself, determined to make the effort.
I don’t deserve it, but Noah does, so I yank open the door and head toward the kitchen.
Chapter seventeen
Noah
I’m usually pretty good with directions, but I can’t for the life of me navigate all the unmarked paths that weave through this campus.
I studied the map before making the drive out here.
Made sure I had the name written down and knew the room number, too.
Even so, I’m nervous as heck.
Using the library as a benchmark, I scan my surroundings. The library is the tallest building in the county, and according to the map, the dorm I’m looking for is on this side of it.
I regret not bringing Shiloh with me. She’s a damn good icebreaker, especially for what I assume is about to be a tense interaction. But I don’t know if pets are allowed in buildings on campus, and I won’t let anything or anyone stand in my way.
I turn another corner, shifting the bags I’m carrying, and when I look up again, it’s there.
Birch Hall.
