Page 98 of Double Fault

He laughs behind my hand, and I can’t help but join him. I’ve never seen him so carefree. From the day we met, he’s hidden behind a broody façade. Now, lighthearted like this, he seems younger.

The saleswoman returns with the shoes, and I sit in a plush velvet chair to try them on. They’re a perfect fit and despite coaxing on Noah’s part to pick other items I like, I walk out with the shoes only. They’re far more comfortable than the heels, but if Ebba saw me, I have no doubt she’d be twitching inside.

Outside, Noah takes my hand. His grip is warm and steady, but I ward my heart against that steadiness. Despite how affectionate he’s been, I’m terrified to let myself get comfortable, to rely on him. In my experience, nothing good ever lasts. Love is… well, it’s beautiful when it’s right. Having a front-row seat to Lucy and Alyssa’s romance has shown me that. But it can also be painful and cruel. Years of interacting with my parents showed me that. They’re the two people in this world who should’ve loved me unconditionally, yet they taught me instead that “love” can be used to manipulate and control.

This is different. Noah isn’t them.

Despite the reminder, a kernel of doubt remains in the pit of my stomach. The one that reminds me that maybe I really am unlovable. That there’s a good chance he’ll find me undeserving of his affection, just like they did.

“Hey.” He tugs me off the sidewalk and backs me up against the side of a building. “Why’d you get so quiet on me?”

“Just thinking.”

“Hmm.” He cups my cheek. “About what?”

Though I shouldn’t, I can’t stop myself from leaning into his touch.

Noah might be a grumpy dick at times, but then sometimes he’s like my own personal sunshine. And like a flower, I can’t help but stretch closer, searching for the warmth of his rays.

“It’s not important.”

His fingers are warm and gentle as he pries my chin up. “If something is bothering you, then it’s important to me.”

My heart lurches. Damn him for saying just the right thing.

“I… listen, I’m not saying I’m in love with you or that you have those kinds of feelings for me. But…” I blow out a breath. “But love scares me. I know good, pure love exists out there. I’ve seen it. But most of my experience has involved the dark side of that feeling, and I don’t want to be that girl. The one who desperately needs the guy she likes to like her back or she falls apart.”

He smooths an errant curl back, his dark eyes like melted chocolate. “I don’t think you could be that girl if you tried. You’re too strong for that.”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure I am. Honestly, I think I’m far more vulnerable than even I realized.”

Looming close, he studies me. Above us, the clouds have gotten thicker, and a light rain begins. Still pressed against the building like this, his big body, thankfully, shields me.

“I can’t promise not to break your heart, Sabrina. I don’t know where this thing is going and I don’t want to make promises I might not be able to keep, but I’m right here with you. Terrified out of my mind of the way I feel.”

I bite down lightly on my bottom lip, fighting back tears that burn at the backs of my eyes. This is why I rarely allow myself to be vulnerable. It brings out the sensitive side of me. “As long as I’m not alone.”

“You’re not.” As the reassurance leaves him, the sky opens up and the rain comes down in earnest. “Shit.”

It’s London, so it’s almostalwaysraining, but according to my Google searches, a downpour of this magnitude isn’t particularly common.

We duck into the nearest building, and as luck would have it, it’s an old bookshop.

I’m not much of a reader, but the scent of old books has always drawn me in. It’s the unknown, the worlds waiting to be discovered between the pages, even if I never crack the spine.

Noah rakes a hand through his damp hair. “That was unexpected.”

By the way my hair is plastered to my head, it’s going to be a frizzy mess when it dries.

“You’re telling me. I take it we won’t be walking through the park now?”

“Maybe if the rain slows.” He starts down an aisle.

I follow him, surveying the dark-wood shelves on either side of me packed full of books.

“Do you read?” I ask when he slows to peruse a shelf.

“I am capable of reading, Curls,” he says with an amused lilt.

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