As I shift on the floor, my phone presses into my butt, and I have a fleeting thought of calling Webb. I could ask him to come, and I think he would. He would hug me and get all growly in that protective way of his, and I can even picture him walking beside me as we leave the diner, him throwing warning glances at anyone who dared look at me the wrong way.
But calling Webb means dragging him into this whole mess. It means telling him the truth about why I came here. It means him finding out about the video?—
Another wounded sound comes from deep inside me.
Stupid Noelle. Of course he’s going to find out. If not from me, someone else will mention it the next time he comes to Williston.
A broken sob escapes as I think about the other night at the movie. Webb was so sweet, planning a date he thought I’d enjoy, even though I know the movie wasn’t really his taste. He packed a picnic, and he gave me my adorable stuffed Bigfoot that I’ve slept with every night since then.
We won’t have dates like that again. Not when I’m the town pariah—the woman who was shirtless on the diner TV. I wouldn’t blame Webb?—
“Noelle? Are you in there?”
Webb’s rumbly voice comes through the door, startling me so badly I let out a screech of fright.
His tone is rough. Urgent. “Noelle? What’s going on?” He pauses. “Doug said you cut yourself. Are you okay? How badly are you hurt?”
“Webb?” My voice is so small, I’m not sure if he can hear me. “Why are you here?”
“Doug called me,” he replies. “Since he knows we’re dating. He said something happened and you were really upset.”
“Did he… tell you? What happened?”
Something solid thunks softly on the other side of the door. Maybe his hand? “Yeah, sweetheart. He told me. Are you okay?” Another pause. “Shit. Of course you’re not okay.”
Now that Webb’s here it’s almost worse than when he wasn’t. I desperately want to open the door and throw myself into his arms. But knowing that Doug told him about the video, that he may have evenseenit…
“Did you see it?” I whisper.
Webb sighs. “Only because Doug showed it to me on the TV in his office. He wanted me to know what happened. But the TVs in the diner are all off.”
Another whimper escapes. “Yousaw?”
“Yeah. But there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Why don’t you open the door and we can?—”
“No. You should go home. This… it’s too much of a mess. This wasn’t what you imagined when we started dating. It’s not fair to ask you to be a part of it.”
“Noelle.” Webb sounds offended. “I didn’t start seeing you with conditions attached. Whatever’s going on, I want to help.”
“Then just go home,” I retort. I’m not sure why I’m being so stubborn, or why I’m telling him to leave when my body is aching to be held by him. “I’ll handle it.”
When he doesn’t answer, I’m certain that he left.
Disappointment creeps through me, which is ridiculous, because I’m the one who told him to go.
Then the doorknob rattles. A series of soft clicks follows.
Several seconds later, the door opens, revealing Webb standing on the other side.
As I gape at him, his gaze sweeps over me. Though his expression is worried, his features are hard. A muscle ticks in his jaw. His shoulders are high and tight.
“Noelle,” he says. “Oh, sweetheart.” Then he crouches beside me and takes my hand carefully into his. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine.” Which would be more convincing if I wasn’t crying as I said it.
Webb stares at me for a long moment. “No. You’re not.” Then he kisses my cheeks, first one, then the other. “And I think it’s been a while since things were okay. Am I right?”
Even as I’m shaking my head, I whisper, “Yes.”
