Page 45 of Call My Bluff
The look on her face must have been more than he’d bargained for, because his tone changed from one of false innocence to real concern.
“Pixie, what’s wrong?” he asked. “I was going for speechless, but you look like your light has gone out.”
Olivia dragged herself across the threshold at last and leaned back against the door to shut it behind her. Then she looked around the room again, her eyes landing on the serving dishes laden with food. All of this was more than she could handle when what she really wanted was to crawl beneath a dark blanket and never come out. “You cooked,” she said blankly. “And brought flowers.”
Noah looked down at the table and waved a flippant hand through the air. “Yeah, but... just... ignore that.” He turned off the music before taking her hand and tugging her toward the first open chair. She sank into it as if her whole body weighed more than it ever had before.
Noah turned a second chair until it was right in front of hers, and then he sat down as well and leaned forward. “What is it Peter Pan says? ‘Clap if you believe in fairies’?” he asked. He clapped his hands, his expression earnest, and Olivia felt the start of a smile despite herself.
“Funny. Youwouldbe the boy who never grows up,” she said.
The worry returned to Noah’s face as he reached out and took her hands in his, first one and then, hesitantly, the other. “What is it, Pix? You can tell me.”
Olivia met his eyes and let out another long, tired sigh. There was part of her that wanted to unpack everything—maybe then she could stop carrying it like a rock inside her heart—but it wasn’t her story to share.
“No, I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t tell anybody.”
“Okay. Then tell me how you feel about it.”
Olivia closed her eyes and tried to distance herself from the words she’d heard and the mental images they’d painted. She tried to see the forensic interview from somewhere near the ceiling, as if she hadn’t been part of it at all. She could see herself on her stool in the corner while the little girl told an investigator her story—while the horrors of an eight-year-old’s life became words on paper, evidence in a file that would define her forever.
Not that reality hadn’t already done that.
“I think I’ve made a huge mistake,” she finally said, the words sneaking past all her defenses. She opened her eyes and stared down at the floor between Noah’s feet. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this job after all.”
She could feel Noah’s attention on her face, even though she couldn’t see it.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because I can’t do it!” she snapped, whipping her gaze up to his. His face shimmered through an unwelcome layer of tears, and she willed them back to where they came from. “How am I supposed to help these kids if I can’t even keep myself together? If I can’t handle hearing what they’ve been through?” she asked. “It’s impossible! There is so much evil in the world, and I’m just one person. What good will I ever do?”
There was silence, and Olivia watched a tiny bead of hot wax slide slowly down the side of one of the white candles. She was starting to wish she hadn’t said anything when Noah finally moved. One of his hands slipped out of hers, and he hooked a finger beneath her chin and turned her head so she was looking up at him.
“You’re allowed to feel things, Pix. If you didn’t, you’d be no good to anyone,” he said. “And you’re right, you can’t save themall... but maybe you can save one, or two, or five, or twenty. There are kids in this world who are praying to find you, Pixie. The only way you’ll let them down is if you aren’t there.”
Olivia watched Noah’s mouth move as he spoke, as if she needed proof the words were actually coming from him. A surge of new emotion welled up in her chest. “Since when are you so smart?” she asked, trying and failing to make a joke.
“I’m not actually an idiot, Pixie; I just play one on TV,” he replied, and Olivia felt a wobbly smile stretch across her face.
His thumb moved along the crest of her cheek, and she felt the moisture of a tear she hadn’t known had fallen. She jerked her head away and scrubbed both palms over her face, unwilling to become one of those girls who let pretty boys dry their eyes. “Thanks, Noah,” she murmured.
He straightened in his seat, regarding her with a new kind of look that made her feel like he could see everything she’d ever tried to hide about herself. “Anytime, Olivia.”
Something about her name sounded odd coming from his mouth, and Olivia realized all at once that he’d never used it before. Hearing it now was both deeply unsettling and profoundly reassuring, all at the same time. It was a paradox she didn’t have the strength to contemplate just then.
There was a moment of silence, and then he released her hand abruptly. “Alright, new plan,” he announced. “Go change.” He pressed both palms flat on his thighs and rose to stand.
“What?” Olivia asked, confused.
Noah cupped his hand behind each of the three candles in turn and blew out their flickering flames. “You heard me. Go change, the more comfortable the better. If you have bunny slippers, I won’t judge.” He crossed the dim living room andflipped on both the table lamps, flooding the space with light. “I’ll make you a plate.”
His tone left no room for argument, and Olivia felt her body sag with relief. He wasn’t going to make her go through with whatever he’d set up for the night—which was surprising, given his clear advantage. She’d been ready to fold the second she walked in the door.
She rose woodenly to her feet and made a beeline for her bedroom on autopilot. Several minutes later, she opened the door again and found Noah standing beside the now-clear dining room table, his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets. It was one of the first times—or, maybe theonlytime—she’d ever seen him look uncertain, and it was oddly adorable.
“I put away the leftovers, but if you want more you can just reheat. There’s dessert in the fridge,” he explained, and Olivia glanced at the low coffee table, where there was only one dinner plate prepared.
“You’re leaving?”
