Noah clears his throat. When I glance up, he’s looking right at me.
“I’ll carry her inside.”
I nod, dutifully releasing the arm I had around her shoulders to keep her steady.
As much as I hate accepting his help, I’m not in a place to argue. My body’s wrecked. I’m going to have a hard time just getting myself out of this car.
I shift to move her closer to Noah, but my muscles seize and my insides scream. I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth, shame swirling inside me. I can’t even fucking scoot her across the seat.
“Let me help,” the professor says.
Irritation prickles through me. I have no problem allowing Noah to assist, but now that the heat in the truck has been extinguished, Eden is back on my shit list.
He crawls into the back seat for the second time tonight, inserting himself on my left and effectively separating me from my girl. Lifting her, he shifts, keeping her secure in his arms, then hands her off to Noah, who scoops her up with ease.
Eden exits the truck and brushes off the front of his pants, but both men linger by the open door, watching me.
Irritation floods me. I don’t want them fucking staring. Apparently I have no problem allowing them to watch andparticipatein other scenarios. But bearing witness as I clamber out of the truck—Noah’s truck, on Noah’s property, the literal scene of the crime—sets my nerves on edge and triggers warning bells.
My instincts are urging me to lash out. Or, at the very least, to mask the pain so they don’t see the disadvantageous position I’m in.
But I’m committed to keeping my cool, so I grit my teeth and slowly get out of the truck, wincing when my feet hit the ground.
I need to lie down. I also really need more pain meds. It’s late enough that the pills I took earlier have completely worn off. I’m going to have to suck it up and ask Noah what he has available in his medicine cabinet once I finally make it into the house.
If I can make it.
The path from the parking lot to the massive farmhouse feels impossibly long, the cobblestones uneven and the ground sloping upward.
“Let’s get inside,” Noah says, pivoting with ease while holding Sawyer to his chest.
Her hair is dotted with tiny white flakes. Snow? Damn. I was so focused on my pain and keeping it together that I hadn’t even realized it was snowing.
As if reading my mind, Noah tips his head up, surveying the night sky. With a sigh, he continues along the path toward his house.
Mercer follows.
I tentatively take a step forward, resigned to lagging behind.
Whether he does it for me or not, Noah sets the pace, ambling toward the house with slow, measured steps.
“I didn’t think it was cold enough for it to stick like this. I didn’t salt or do anything to prepare.” He shakes his head, like he’s disappointed in himself. “Careful, both of you,” he adds over his shoulder.
As if on cue, my foot slips and my body lights up with agony. Hissing, I jerkily course correct so I don’t fall.
As I steady myself, my heart hammers against my chest. At least with my adrenaline flowing, the pain won’t be as noticeable.
When I look up to take my next step, both Noah and Mercer are eyeing me, concern marring their faces.
“Walk beside him,” Noah instructs. “The steps will be extra slippery from the snow, and there are a few rotting boards on the porch I’m worried about.”
Mercer silently retraces his steps and stops at my side.
Huffing, I take another step. “Don’t touch me.”
I didn’t ask for help. The last thing I want or need is help from this asshole.
Gritting my teeth, I take another step. Once I’m sure of my footing, I look over to Eden, who’s dutifully walking by my side. “Do you really think I feel safe next to you?”
