Chapter 10
Ten
The promised second round of snow starts falling sometime around midnight.
I’m still awake, trying to watch a movie and keep my mind off the broody doctor downstairs.
But it’s hardly doing much good. Even though it’s the kind of movie I would normally love, I can’t follow the plot, and I keep having to pause and rewind to figure out what’s happening.
Noah’s a doctor.
That’s why he scoffed when he found out I just graduated from nursing school. He thinks Olivia chose me on purpose. Maybe because we would have something in common?
But what is he doing here? Not that it's hard to imagine why he might have quit. Especially if he was in emergency medicine. There are countless resources designed to help medical professionals deal with trauma and death and loss, but he wouldn’t be the first doctor to step away, if only for a time.
Then again, it can’t be all that uncommon for doctors to shift from regular practice to something else. Teaching, or research, maybe. But Noah was very specific when he said he wasn’t a doctor—not anymore. That’s not the kind of language you use when you’re shifting gears to focus on research.
I breathe out a sigh and reach for the remote.
The couple on the TV screen who I thought were cousins just kissed.
I’ve been struggling to follow the plot, but I didn’t think I was that far off.
Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow when I’m not feeling so distracted.
Though with Noah around, I’m not sure that’s possible.
I lift the remote and aim it at the TV, but before I can turn it off, the screen goes black on its own, and the lights overhead flicker and then go out.
I hold my breath, waiting, hoping it’s just a fluke. A temporary glitch. But thirty seconds turn into a minute, then five minutes.
The power is officially out.
I toss my covers aside and pad across the plush carpet to the window. It’s snowing pretty steadily, adding an additional layer of white on the already blanketed ground.
At the edge of my vision, a beam of light flickers, and I crane my neck to watch as someone moves across the edge of the lawn, a flashlight dancing across the ground.
It has to be Noah, since he emerged from the house, and I wonder where he’s headed, but I lose sight of him when he turns into the trees.
I sigh and head back to bed, where I retrieve my phone from the nightstand, using the flashlight to take myself to the bathroom so I can pee and brush my teeth.
I’m already wearing my pajamas, but there isn’t much to them.
Just a thin chemise with tiny spaghetti straps that only falls to my mid-thigh.
I debate for a moment on whether I should add a few more layers.
I tend to get hot while I sleep, but I love the weight of a lot of blankets, so I usually opt for tiny clothes and heavy covers.
There’s definitely a slight chill in the air, but I think I’ll be fine once I’m in bed, so I climb back in and pull the covers up to my chin.
I glance at my phone one last time, then set it on the nightstand and turn off the screen, plunging myself into total darkness.
My phone battery is only at seventeen percent, which is enough for right now, but I’ll have to figure out a way to charge it tomorrow if the power doesn’t come back on.
I could sit in the car, at least, and juice it up that way.
I stare into the darkness and listen to the eerily quiet house. It’s funny how quiet quiet really feels when all the background noises of a power-filled house are gone. No central heat. No hum of the refrigerator. Just the occasional creak of an old house.
Except—that sounds like more than a creak.
It sounds like footsteps.
My hands tighten around the covers as my heart starts pounding in my chest.
Has it been long enough that Noah would already be back inside? The footsteps sound heavy—like they belong to a man wearing boots. And…are they coming up the stairs?
It has to be Noah.
But what if it isn’t? What if it’s someone else entirely?
It takes about three seconds for my brain to imagine a hundred different scenarios, all ending with my ultimate demise before a knock finally sounds on my door.
“Megan?”
My shoulders relax as I take a relieved breath. It’s Noah. Of course it’s Noah. “Hmmm?” Despite my certainty that there is not an ax murderer on the other side of the door, my voice still sounds strangled and cracked. I clear my throat and try again. “Yes?”
“I have wood,” Noah says, voice muffled.
I push up on my elbows, not sure I heard him right. “Um…you have wood?” I say through a giggle.
There’s a long pause before Noah says, “Very funny. Are we eighth graders now?”
“You started it,” I say as I toss my covers aside, sucking in a gasp as the quickly chilling air reaches my bare legs.
“I have split logs to build you a fire,” Noah says pointedly, though I can hear traces of humor in his tone. “You might get cold with the power out.”
After the way we parted a few hours ago, it’s nice that he’s here. Even nicer that he’s willing to joke with me.
I glance in the general direction of the fireplace. It’s too dark to see it, but I know it’s there. And a fire really would be nice.
“Just a sec!” I call, then I reach for my phone and turn on the flashlight one more time. I have a robe somewhere, and if I’m answering the door for Noah, I definitely need to find it.
It takes a minute. Apparently, I packed like a drunk chimpanzee because nothing is where it should be. After digging ineffectively for what feels like three hours, Noah’s boots scuff against the floor outside the door. “Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes!” I call as I start tossing clothes out of my bag.
“Just looking for—got it!” I grab the robe and shake it out with one hand, then toss my phone onto my bed so I can pull it on.
The movement sends a sharp pain through my shoulder, and I suck in a gasp, then adjust and try again, being more careful.
Something isn’t right—the robe is tugging in weird places—but I’ve already made Noah wait for too long, so I stumble my way toward the small beam of light shining under the door.
I bump my hip against a chair on the way, letting out a muffled “Ow,” but I arrive otherwise unscathed. I take a steadying breath before swinging the door open, but the extra oxygen does little good, so my heart is still racing when I look up to make eye contact with Noah.
He’s holding a small lantern, and it casts a circle of warm yellow light into my room.
“Hi,” I say as I take in his hulking, shadowy form. He’s fully dressed, still wearing his heavy winter coat, and his shoulders are dusted with snow. “Sorry. I was looking for my robe.”
His eyes drop to my body for the briefest moment, and I resist the urge to flinch. To tug my robe tighter or fold my arms around my middle. I might be wearing a lot less than I was the last time he saw me, but I’m still decent.
His mouth quirks up the slightest bit on one side, his eyes fixed somewhere on my midsection. “Good thing you found it.”
I look down and…oh, sheesh. My robe is on, but one side is completely twisted and the left arm is inside out.
“Wow,” I say. “I genuinely have no idea how I managed to get it this wrong.”
“It sounded like it hurt,” Noah says with something that sounds like concern.
“A little,” I say. “I wasn’t thinking about being careful. Just trying not to keep you waiting.”
Noah wordlessly sets down the lantern and lifts his hands toward my waist. “May I? I don’t want you straining your shoulder.”
Well, this definitely isn’t going to help my heart rate, but I nod my head anyway.
He gingerly unties my robe, then slips it off my shoulder, taking extra caution on the left side.
He shakes it out, righting the inside-out arm, then drapes it over my shoulders, holding it up while I slip my arms through.
He leans even closer as his hands drift around my waist, retrieving the tie on either side and tugging it around my body.
For a brief moment, I’m fully encircled in his arms. We aren’t exactly touching—not quite—but he’s close enough for me to feel the warmth of his body, to breathe in the scent of snow and pine needles and something else spicy and sweet and uniquely Noah.
I expect him to hand me the ties once he’s holding them both, but he keeps them until he’s tied them into a neat bow just below my ribs. This is the second time he’s helped me with my clothes because of my shoulder, but the first time felt clinical, a matter of expediency.
This…is not that.
Noah’s gaze is heavy, the air between us thick with crackling chemistry. When his hands fall away from my body, he doesn’t step away. “You don’t sleep in much,” he says, his voice low and husky.
I swallow against the sudden knot in my throat. “I like to use a lot of blankets.”
Noah’s expression isn’t quite hungry, but it does feel…admiring. Like he’s noticing me, and he likes what he sees. “You might want to rethink that for tonight,” he says. “The fire will do a lot, but you might still get cold.”
I resist the wildly inappropriate impulse to suggest that he stay and keep me warm and nod my head instead. “Noted. I’ve got sweats in my bag.”
He nods like he finds my answer satisfactory and turns back toward the hallway, where he’s left a bundle of firewood. “Can I bring this in?”
I smirk, pressing my lips together as I ask, “Your wood?”
He breathes out a longsuffering sigh. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
I grin as I take the lantern from his extended hand. “You and your firewood are welcome,” I say.
I step out of the way, watching as he carries the bundle of wood into the room. He kneels next to the fireplace, then makes quick work of building a fire—it’s clear he’s done this enough that it’s practically second nature.
“That should do it,” he says. “It won’t burn all night, but it’ll help. And I can come back in the morning and build it up again.”
“Thank you,” I say as I move toward the fire.
There’s a nice sitting area next to the hearth with two swivel armchairs sitting opposite each other, a small table, and a thick, woven rug.
I take the chair across from where Noah is crouched in front of the flames.
“Do you think this means the reunion won’t happen? ”
“I doubt it,” he says. “It isn’t snowing hard enough for the outage to be too widespread, so I’m guessing they’ll have it back on sometime tomorrow. That’s what the text message from the power company said when I reported it.”
“And you said it’s supposed to warm up enough for the snow to melt?”
“It’s hard to believe, but that’s what they’re saying. We should know by tomorrow afternoon what Christmas Eve will look like.”
He shifts, sitting himself on the rug with his legs bent, his arms resting on his knees. His gaze drifts to the fire, and he’s quiet for a long moment, but I get the sense he’s working up to something, so I stay perfectly still and wait.
“Megan,” he finally says, then he clears his throat.
“I’m sorry about the way I…” his words trail off, and I get the sense this isn’t easy for him.
Not so much the apologizing, but the talking.
“I’m sorry for the way I snapped at you earlier,” he finishes.
He lifts his gaze to meet mine, his eyes dark in the shadowy firelight.
“I’m not great with words, and this particular subject… ”
I almost step in. Reassure him. Fill the silence with my own words, which always come so easily.
But sometimes listening is just about listening. About letting the silence stretch as long as it needs to for words to work themselves out.
“It’s tough for me,” he continues. “For a lot of reasons that have to do with my dad and my own personal expectations. But you weren’t wrong for asking or for offering to listen. And I was out of line for being so dismissive.”
“It’s totally fine,” I say. “I get it.”
He nods, then he reaches behind him and tugs a blanket off the arm of the other chair. He unfolds it before holding it out to me. “PICU, huh? That’s a lot.”
I take the blanket and drape it over my lap. “It will be, for sure. But it was my last clinical rotation in nursing school, and I loved it. I like the challenge. And kids are so much better than adults.”
This makes him chuckle. “I know a lot of nurses who would disagree with you.”
“My roommates disagree with me,” I say. “But I love it. Give me all the kids and babies.”
After another beat of silence, Noah shifts like he’s going to get up. “I should let you get some sleep,” he says. “Unless you need anything else?”
I could be making it up, but he almost sounds hopeful. Like he doesn’t really want to leave.
“Actually, I don’t really feel like sleeping yet. Do you want to stay a while? Maybe help me drink the welcome wine Olivia left for me?”
He lifts his eyebrows like he’s considering, and the ensuing pause is so long, I’m positive he’s going to say no. But then Noah nods. “Who can say no to welcome wine?”