Nineteen
Noah
“You’re kicking me out?”I asked.
She twisted her face in a mock frown. “Afraid so, Wilder. I’ve been hiding in here long enough, and I need to get to work.”
It took everything inside of me to tell her that with me around she’d never have to worry about anything because I would take care of her.
I meant it with everything I had, but Alex would reject it.
So, I held my tongue but made no move to leave.
Alex stared down at me, her beautiful face serene before she gave me a soft smile. “Thank you for checking on me. I’m…sorry I dropped out of sight like that. I just?—”
“Shhh,” I said, stroking her cheek with my thumb. “Don’t thank me. Just promise you’ll never do that again. I’m here for you, Alex.”
Her face cracked, her smile brittle now, but I didn’t press. I knew she trusted me. She wouldn’t have been so open if she didn’t. But I also knew that trust was new and fragile.
But I’d nurture it, see to it that Alex came to trust me completely.
Much as I wanted to keep her, I let her pull away. But instead of leaving, I lingered, feeling soothed just by being in her presence.
By the time she emerged from the shower and dressed, I’d prepped her a cup of coffee and made two hard-boiled eggs, glad I’d had the foresight to have them delivered with her dinner last night, and even happier to provide Alex with her breakfast of choice.
“That is so gross,” I said as she smiled at the offering and grabbed her briefcase.
“You’re wrong. This is the greatest breakfast ever invented. And I appreciate you making it for me,” she said.
She smiled brighter, finally seeming like herself.
I was determined she would stay that way.
“Call me if you need me,” I said.
“Okay,” she responded as we walked out of her apartment.
She locked her door, and together, we walked to the elevator.
“Let me give you a ride to work,” I said.
“That’s not necessary,” she responded.
“It also wasn’t a question, Alex,” I said.
She laughed, that husky, joyful sound lifting my spirit. We rode to her office in comfortable silence.
“I’ll see you later,” I said as she reached for the door handle.
“If I have time,” she said with another shrug.
“Also not a question, Alex. I’ll see you later.” She laughed and then got out of the car and waved at me before she closed the door.
I watched as she disappeared inside the building, comforted by the fact that she seemed to be better.
And even more comforted by what I was going to do next.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my email to check the address.
Once I had directions, I drove to my destination.
It was only eight thirty in the morning, not the standard time for a surprise visit, but I didn’t give a shit.
Even though I knew Alex would hate me if she knew what I was doing.
But I’d see that she wouldn’t find out.
She was independent, more than capable of taking care of herself. But I’d sworn I would take care of her, even if I hadn’t said the words out loud.
And the best way I could do that was to handle this problem.
I pulled up to the two-family house, modest but well taken care of.
The kind of neighborhood I hadn’t dared to dream I could live in when I was a kid. It took all Nonna and Mom had to keep us in an apartment, our frequent moves supplemented by hotel stays or nights in Nonna’s car.
But this place, while not fancy, had a permanence to it.
Still, I felt no hesitation as I walked to the front door and knocked.
About a minute later, a man about Alex’s height, with a solid but relatively slender build came to the door. He was clean-shaven with a bald head, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants.
He seemed totally innocuous, which I knew to be a lie.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking wary.
“Yeah, you can,” I said.
He bristled at the tone of my voice.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“A friend of Alex’s,” I responded.
“Well, I’m Alex, and I don’t know you,” he said, even more defensive now.
Understandable, I supposed.
I wasn’t going out of my way to be polite because this fucker didn’t deserve it. Whatever his excuses, the lack of care with which he treated his daughter, one of the best, most precious people I had ever met, told me everything I needed to know about him.
“Are you going to invite me in?” I asked.
“What is this about?” he said.
“Open the door. We need to talk about Alex,” I said, my patience wearing thin.
He considered for a moment, then pulled the door open and ushered me inside.
I looked around, saw pictures of a woman and two boys, but none of him or his daughter.
As it looked on the outside, the home inside was modest but well cared for.
And I saw the signs of kids everywhere—football cleats, little trophies, and even an entire shelf of real encyclopedias.
“I haven’t seen these in years. Kids still use them?” I said, gesturing toward the books.
He chuckled. “Not really, but I got them at a rummage sale. I think they’re good to have around. Can’t have the kids relying on the damn internet for everything,” he said.
“I’m surprised you have such strong opinions. I thought you took a more hands-off approach to parenting,” I said.
Sure, Alex wasn’t a preteen, but based on what she’d told me, I doubted her father had given a shit about her having access to encyclopedias when she was growing up.
His amusement faded. “I didn’t catch your name,” he said.
“I didn’t offer it, but my name is Noah. Noah Wilder,” I said.
I didn’t extend my hand for a shake, and he didn’t either.
“And how do you know my daughter?” he asked.
He wasn’t hostile, mostly curious, and I could see the calculation in his eyes.
“She’s a friend of mine,” I said.
“What kind of friend?” her father asked.
“The kind that would inspire me to come and visit you,” I said.
“Let’s go have a seat,” her father said.
I followed him through a narrow hallway, dimly lit by sunshine, and into the kitchen.
He gestured toward the circular table with four chairs covered with one of those plastic tablecloths with fruit on it.
“Have a seat,” he said.
I sat in the chair, then looked at him.
He looked back at me, and I decided to ask a question.
“Why not name her Alexandra?”
He shrugged. “My name is Alex, and her mother insisted she be named after me,” he said.
“You didn’t care either way?” I asked.
It was an effort to keep my anger under control, but I knew he was aware of it.
“I always told Alex it was nice to have a namesake, but to be honest, I didn’t care one way or another. Not really,” he said.
My anger spiked, and I waited one moment, another, and then I spoke.
“I hear you’ve had some recent trouble,” I said.
“Is life anything but trouble?” her father asked.
“It can be,” I said, dangling the bait that I knew he would take.
“What is this about?” he asked.
I looked around the kitchen.
“It looks like you’re building something nice for yourself here,” I said.
“I’m trying,” her father responded.
“I bet your girlfriend is pissed about your most recent arrest,” I said.
His expression hardened, but I kept going.
“It might push her over the edge if she found out you’re behind on rent, too,” I said.
He was pissed now. “Who the hell are you?”
“A friend of Alex’s, like I said.”
“What kind of friend of Alex’s cares about my domestic situation or my money troubles?” he asked.
“The kind of friend who knows that your domestic situation and money troubles could affect her. The kind of friend who doesn’t want to see that happen,” I said.
“Meaning what?” he asked, glaring at me through narrowed eyes.
I glared back, letting the moment build.
Then I leaned back, studying him. “Alex,” I said, hating to call him that, but pressing on, “I’m going to ask you a question, and before you answer, I want you to really, really think.”
“Seriously, Noah Wilder, what is this?” he asked, his own patience wearing thin, but his curiosity still not satisfied. Exactly where I wanted him to be.
“This is me offering you a solution to both of our problems,” I said.
“And what’s my problem?” he said.
“Money, of course,” I said.
“And what’s your problem?” he asked.
“You.” I let the word hang for a moment and then pressed on. “As a show of good faith, I’ve taken care of your back rent and paid this month, too.”
“Bullshit,” he said on a huffed-out laugh.
“Far from it. You can check if you’d like.”
“Oh, I will. Now what the hell do you want from me?” he said.
“Only one thing,” I answered.
“And what’s that?” He had tilted his head and was studying me intently.
“I want you to stay away from Alex.”
For a split second he looked angry, and then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and read the text message I’d had his landlord send.
He huffed. “So I guess you had something to do with this text thanking me for my payment?”
“Like I said, I’m a man of my word.”
His expression was closed-off, wary, but I could see his wheels spinning.
And saw just the moment to push.
“Are you ready to answer my question?” I asked.
His nostrils flared, and his eyes shifted, but after a moment he met mine and said, “What’s your question?”
I didn’t let a second pass before I said, “How much?”