Page 108 of Sweet Ruin

“What?” I asked.

“You drove.” His smile became a little bigger.

“I…” I looked at the truck in surprise. He was right. I’d driven all the way here, and I hadn’t once hesitated, or frozen, or refused to pull out of the parking space. I’d been so worried about Noah I hadn’t even considered my driving fears, and the nerves that usually accompanied me whenever I got behind the wheel were nowhere to be seen. It had all happened so naturally. So easily.

“I told you,” Noah mumbled. “You were overthinking it.”

“You said that to tease me.”

“I said that to help you, actually,” he replied. “Now, can we get inside? I’d prefer not to pass out in front of you again.”

“Right.” I pulled my attention from the truck. “Of course.”

When I got him inside, I spoke to the nearest nurse, and they directed us to a packed waiting room. Noah was quickly assessed by another nurse, who confirmed he probably had a concussion. However, she wanted him to see a doctor so he could be assessed for any more serious injuries and side effects.

We were told to expect a long wait though. The icy conditions on the mountain seemed to have resulted in a lot of injuries today, and Noah’s fall appeared to be less urgent than the injuries of some of the other people in the emergency room.

Noah was patient though and didn’t once complain. It took over an hour before a bed freed up, and we had to wait longer still for a doctor. Noah’s eyes were far more focused now, but his lips remained tense. He kept trying to reassure me he wasn’t in any pain, but I was convinced he was only saying that to make sure I didn’t worry.

We talked constantly as we waited. I think we were both in need of a distraction. Noah from his pain and me from the memory of Noah passed out on the icy road. Whenever we grew silent, it left room for intrusive thoughts, and the image of him lying there overcame me. I didn’t want to analyze the emotions that had stirred inside me when I’d seen Noah unconscious and unmoving on the ground. How the sight of his eyes blinking open when I was so worried they wouldn’t had awoken something in my heart that I’d been desperately trying to bury.

“This trip can’t end soon enough,” I muttered as I checked the time and realized we’d been waiting for over two hours.

“When are you heading back to Rapid Bay?” Noah asked.

“In the morning.” It felt like a relief. This holiday had been one disaster after another, and now all I wanted to do was to get home to my mom.

“I’ll be heading back to New York then too,” Noah said.

“How are things with your grandfather?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since that night you overheard us,” Noah said. “He’s left me messages though. My voice mail is filled with his ranting and raving.”

“Is he still threatening to destroy your father’s memorial?”

“He is, but Matthew’s been a great help. Despite his threats, William can’t just build a parking lot there without getting certain approvals, and Matthew’s got a lot of contacts. We’ll stop him.”

“I’m really sorry, Noah.”

“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “He was always going to fight back, but taking him down was worth it. Not least of all because I don’t have to pretend around him anymore. It was exhausting.”

Noah seemed freer since everything that happened in New York. It was as if he was finally able to act like his true self now he wasn’t under his grandfather’s thumb. The person I’d previously seen in glimpses when it was just the two of us could now reveal himself to the world.

“So, what happened with Wes?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’m not talking about that with you.”

“You seemed pretty upset with him,” he replied.

"We just had an argument, that’s all.”

“It’s not just an argument when he throws unfair accusations at you and you end up trudging through the snow half dressed and freezing.”

“Noah…” I sighed, my tone a final warning that I couldn’t bring myself to discuss this with him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You probably think I’m cheering inside at the fact you and Wes had a fight, but, more than anything, I just hate seeing you upset.”

I glanced away from him, unable to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds.

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