Chapter 9
W ith our stomachs refilled, we shuffle onto the plane, today’s tiredness already taking hold of my dragging limbs. Our plane is wider than any flight I’ve been on—as I expected with a longer, international trip. But instead of the roomy seats I’ve usually walked past in first class, this plane has expansive rows of reclined chairs. They look much more like individual, spacious beds.
When Noah stops us here, plopping our backpacks into the wide cubbies beneath the seats, my jaw drops. “Wait, really? This is us?”
Noah grins over his shoulder with a soft giggle. “Mhm.”
I double-check that the numbers above our heads match our boarding passes, my eyes widening by the second. Two aisles stretch down the plane, giving enough room for multiple passengers in each row of economy seating. In this luxury section, however, there’s so much space dedicated to each of us that only three passengers fit in each row. Tall screen dividers line the aisles, allowing for total privacy.
But the seats Greenfield Pack purchased for us are special: our row has two seats smushed together in the middle, clearly designed for a pair of travelers who intend to fly together without the big dividers between us. As I lean closer, relief wells in my chest; there’s an armrest between us in case we need it, but the squishy seats stretch all the way across our section without dividing, creating a proper bed with our own personal screen.
I bounce on my heels. “Noah, this is unreal! ”
Helping me into my seat, Noah laughs. “That’s right, you’ve never been on a flight like this, huh?”
“Are you kidding? No way. We’re absolutely being spoiled.”
“Yeah. Greenfield likes to spoil the hell out of me with overseas flight tickets every year for the Summit, no matter how much I argue with them that I don’t need it.” Noah rolls his eyes. “But now that you're here, I'm glad they did. My mom said they wanted you to be comfortable, in particular, so I didn’t have any complaints this time. It was nice of them to find us a pair of joined seats too. Normally, I’m sectioned off by myself.”
My heart clenches. “Noah, that’s so sweet of them. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to be able to fully lay down and relax. This will be way easier on my body.”
To my delight, Noah’s entire torso loosens. “Good. I’m happy to see you happy.”
I beam at him, taking his hand in mine. “You’re sweet. Even if we didn’t have these seats, I’ve already been thinking about how grateful I am that I’m getting to go on this trip with you.”
Noah’s cheeks flush hot, and I giggle. He’s gushing with affection as he lifts the armrest between us, pulling me to his edge of my wide seat. With full access to me, my mate promptly nuzzles into my cheek with more soft kisses than I can count, but I don’t feel smothered. Gentle caresses over my arms, abdomen, and sides lull me into a meditative state.
Breathing in Noah’s scent, I allow myself to doze against him as the rest of the passengers board. But by the time the plane roars to life and the safety instructions begin, I’m left with no choice but to inhale jet fumes. My nausea returns full-force, aggravated by my anxiety around flying.
As the muffled safety protocol drones over the plane’s speakers, I try to lay perfectly still, not wanting to aggravate my stomach further.
Noah rubs my hand with a gentle whisper. “Are you feeling sick?”
“Yes, but it’s fine. It’s the jet fuel smell that’s—” I swallow thickly, and Noah winces.
“Can I see your scarf?”
Using the last drop of my limited energy to shakily bend over, I fetch my scarf from my backpack in my personal cubby. When I hand the plaid red fleece to Noah, he eyes the passengers across the aisle, ensuring our tall dividers cover us.
Clutching my scarf, Noah releases a saccharine, soothing scent, sending tingles down my spine. I’m already feeling better just from inhaling his loving pheromones, but when he scrubs my scarf against his scent glands, I curl my toes in anticipation.
As I hoped, Noah wraps the scarf around my neck, swooping the fabric over my nose—immersing me in lungfuls of his comfort. I can’t help but purr, burrowing in deeper.
“How’s that?” Noah asks, but he’s already grinning wide; my eyelids droop in absolute bliss, my stomach swirling with delight despite still recovering.
But as the plane jerks back, driving onto the runway, every sensation in me is replaced by fear.
I grip Noah’s hand hard enough to turn my fingers white. A furious, commanding urgency in my gut tells me to lean past the dividers at our sides and check out the window, ensuring we’re safe. Then check it again.
That’s OCD talking. I know it. That doesn’t stop OCD from holding an absolute chokehold over my brain, shuffling me in my seat in discomfort. Noah’s protective scent rushes past the fabric covering my nose, but it’s not enough to settle my racing, shallow breath.
“What’s going on, Luna?”
I groan. “Dammit, I thought I worked on this enough with Jenny.”
“Are you scared?”
“Yes. But I don’t want to miss out on your first game of 20 Questions.”
Noah’s eyes widen as I visibly quiver. If I wasn’t so freaked out, I’d laugh, rubbing his arm to reassure him that I’m not dying, but I’m not so convinced myself.
“O-okay, uh— You’re sure it’s not an avoidance compulsion to play that game instead of facing your fears, head-on?”
“Good point...” I frown, thinking through the details. “I normally wouldn’t be sure, except my brain is demanding that I consistently check outside the window to make sure we’re okay, which usually means it’s time to live my life as I would without the obsession nagging at me.”
“Got it. Then how about I ask the first question to get us going?”
“Okay.” I clutch his hand.
Noah grips my hand back, allowing me to squeeze harder. It’s cathartic enough for me to take a deeper breath.
But Noah focuses hard—conjuring his first question with a deep stare into the blank screen in front of us. When his eyebrows raise, I lean in, curious what’s stirring a sudden shyness in our bond.
Lowering his voice, Noah turns to me with serious, furrowed brows over his puppy-dog stare. “Who was your first crush?”
Tension washes from my limbs as I erupt into giggles. “Are you trying to make yourself jealous?”
Noah grins, softening his expression. “No. Everyone who made the mistake of leaving you should be insanely jealous of me .”
I bite back a smile. “Well, actually... My first crush was Amy.”
Noah’s eyebrows lift—a much milder reaction than I anticipated. But within seconds, his true surprise explodes in our bond.
“It’s not what it sounds like. It’s more like—” I laugh. “I was six, and I thought she was the most powerful girl I’d ever seen. I wanted to be just like her. Then, when everyone thought I was a weirdo, she was so kind to me, which is my weakness.”
Noah breaks into a massive smile. “It is, huh?”
“Yes.” I laugh, gazing straight into my mate's adoring eyes. “But I quickly realized I loved her as a forever-friend, and it was more of a deep admiration thing.”
Noah softens into a gentle smile, his thumb tracing my palm. “Cute. So fucking cute.”
Clearing my throat, I fidget with Noah’s thumb. “Well, until college when we kissed for fun and I realized I was attracted to girls too. But then she met Kira about a week later, so nothing else happened, of course.”
Noah tilts his head. “Was that hurtful?”
I’m so relieved that he’s not upset that a fizzy excitement spreads throughout my chest. I break into a smile. “Not too hurtful, thankfully. I felt more connected to her as a best friend, so it was actually a bit of a relief to not have any dating expectations.”
Noah hums in understanding, dropping his stare to our hands.
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Your turn. I want to know the answer to the same question: your first crush.”
“My turn? Uh, shit—” Noah flushes bright red. “I didn’t think it’d be turned around at me.”
I laugh. “It doesn’t have to be. Actually, I should’ve deflected your second question with a question of my own, but bending the rules for this game is more fun. And I’m really curious. We haven’t talked about our exes much—well, beyond Steven.”
As Noah’s expression morphs into a disgusted glare at the thought of my ex, I can barely contain a laugh, even as the plane lifts its nose. Noah captures my full attention with a tighter squeeze of my hand, keeping our eyes locked as we lurch into the air.
“My first crush—” Noah clears his throat. “Was a-another boy too. But not as a friend.”
My heart hammers, but I break into a smile. I don’t know if Noah identifies as “bisexual,” or if he considers himself pansexual, omnisexual, or something else on the bisexual spectrum, but I’ve always been curious to know how fluid his sexuality has been for him. How long did it take for him to accept this piece of himself, living in a different social structure than mine? Lycans seem decades ahead in supporting queerness, but that doesn’t mean it’s been easy.
I can’t stop my curiosity from pouring out. “A Lycan boy? Did you tell him you liked him? Wait, sorry. That’s two more questions.”
Noah frowns. “Our version should allow more questions, I think. Like, 20 Subjects instead. Or 20 Questions Per Subject, knowing us.”
Grinning, I snuggle in closer. “I love that. Then, did you tell him?”
Noah softly smiles, but he fidgets with his seatbelt, his wolf just as antsy in our bond. “N-no, I didn’t tell him.”
“What was he like?”
“H-he was, um—” His eyes dart away from mine. “He was all Alpha.”
My heart flips. At first, I thought Noah was shy about telling me about liking a boy for the first time. But now that I’m face to face with my sweet mate, I think he’s shier about liking another Alpha than anything else.
“How did you realize you liked him?” I ask.
“I-I— Well, it’s embarrassing.” He runs his fingers through his wild hair, messying the dark strands further. “I couldn’t stop watching him chase this rabbit around. I thought it was the coolest thing.”
My mouth opens, but my breath catches. “Wait— Watching him? Like, from the bushes?”
“Yep... Like an absolute weirdo.” Noah rubs his forehead, wavering between laughing and sighing through the mortification in our bond. “But he could never catch the fucking rabbit.”
I bite my lips to keep from laughing, but it’s not doing much to help. I’m forced to hold my breath, trying to think of anything else. With one look at me squirming in my seat, Noah breaks into hearty giggles. I can’t help but laugh with him, gripping his wrist as I lean in.
“So then what?”
“I wanted to catch it for him one day, but some other Alpha beat me to it, and my crush was so angry.” Noah’s eyes widen. “B-but then they started kissing? But with too much tongue?” I burst out laughing with Noah, and his grin widens. “Which is when I realized I wasn’t ready for this courting thing yet and ran away.”
Noah and I dissolve into giggles, leaning into each other for support.
“Oh, my God. I wish I could’ve met little Noah! How old were you?”
“Only a-about eight.”
“Ugh, you cutie. I’m going to explode with affection when I see your little one.”
Noah’s smile gushes at the thought of our pup. He huddles closer to kiss my mark. “Me too, sweet Luna.”
Shivers race down my spine as Noah’s fingers trace my small bump, filling my belly with warmth beneath his gentle touch. I stroke our future pup with him, our bond igniting in the brightest, adoring hum.
I still have no idea if it works, but I’ve been mindlinking our pup anyway. I can’t wait to see your dad holding you.
“My turn,” Noah says.
I blink, almost forgetting what we’re doing. But Noah’s hyper grin alerts my wolf’s ears, perking them up to the sky in our bond.
Rubbing slow, wide circles over my stomach, Noah flutters my heart into my throat. “Speaking of this one, how does it feel to carry them this week? I know you’re beyond tired and have a lot of uncomfortable physical symptoms, but other than the round ligament pain, does it feel like a lot of pressure in here?”
My heart flips; he’s been so curious about my feelings and sensations during pregnancy. It makes me feel seen.
I smile, stroking my belly with him. “Actually, yeah. The bigger they’re getting, the more pressure I feel on my bladder, especially.” We laugh, knowing how obvious that is by how many times I keep interrupting our lives to pee. “And you know how it’s making all my organs travel?”
Noah winces, but he’s still smiling. “Oh, yes. I will never forget that vivid imagery.”
I laugh. “Well, I still feel that strange sensation sometimes, and that’s probably the most off-putting type of pressure, just because of the thought of it. Otherwise, I actually kind of like the thought that they’re still growing bigger in here, and that’s why I’m having to stretch and adjust so much.”
“Goddess, that’s—” Noah’s eyes brighten, widening my smile. “You’re precious. It’s not too unbearable, though?”
“I definitely notice it, but it’s not too bad this week. I’m imagining the pressure part will feel way more intense later on, but I don’t know how much either. I’ll have to tell you what it’s like.”
Wild, excited eyes flit between my stare. Instead of asking another question, I grin, waiting.
Sure enough, Noah blurts out his thoughts. “Would you like to give our baby a nickname, for now? One we can use between us, at least until we think of more names?”
Joy floods my heart. I sit straighter than I have all day, clinging to Noah’s hoodie. “Really?”
He chuckles, slowing his hand until he cups my belly. “Is that a yes? It’s okay if it feels like too much. I just feel like constantly calling them ‘the baby’ is too vague for how attached I already feel.”
Dropping my forehead against his shoulder, I groan. “That’s so cute, it hurts. It makes me want to bite you.”
Noah laughs, softly gripping my open jaw. “You’re probably serious about that, mother wolf, so I’m going to put you back in your own seat before I get mauled.”
Breaking into giggles, I allow him to lift my head off him. Meeting my eyes, Noah’s irises seem to sparkle, even beneath the dim cabin lights. I’m delighted by every inch of his existence. How in the world will I be able to handle how much I’ll love his child?
Softening my voice, I beam back at him. “I’ve been calling them ‘little one,’ sometimes. But I think with how sweet and adorable you are, we’ll have to call them something even cuter.”
Noah’s eyebrows raise. “Wait, you mean you’ve been calling them that in your head?”
My cheeks flush hot. “Um, yes... And I know it’s a little silly, but I’ve been trying to send them my thoughts too.”
Through mindlink? Noah’s eyes widen, and my heart thumps faster.
When I nod, Noah groans. Planting a soft kiss on my lips, Noah smiles against my mouth before pulling back to stare me in the eyes.
“What the hell? That’s way too cute. You really must be trying to kill me this week.”
I laugh, shaking Noah’s arm. “Stop saying that! I love you to death.”
Raising one eyebrow, Noah breaks into a sly grin. “You’re not helping your case.”
He startles another laugh out of me, but a flight attendant eyes us from down the row, so we duck closer, giggling beneath our breaths like teenagers in the back of class.
“Do you really think they can hear me, though?” I whisper. “I know your mom and sister think so from the feelings they got while pregnant, but what do you think?”
Noah hums, sweeping his wide palm over my belly once more. I’m melting into a gooey mess with every stroke, huddling closer to him as he beams down at me. “We’ll have to look through the books we packed, but I believe it, especially since you’re carrying a blood bond with them. We just don’t know for certain how soon they can hear it, which I’ve been really curious about too. Pups don’t know how to respond to us through mindlink until they learn how to talk, and they can’t remember anything from the womb once they’re older, of course, so maybe we’ll have to see what we think. See if it feels like they’re replying to us in their own way.”
My heart flutters. So, in the meantime, your sweet baby might be able to at least feel this love you and I are sharing in our bond, don’t you think? And I might be able to feel them reacting in some way?
Blinking rapidly, Noah presses his forehead to mine. Our bond swells with elation, speeding my breath into short bursts. I’m pretty sure, yes. Just like they can feel your other emotions, or you can feel mine. Theirs might just be more vague to us for a while.
I can hardly contain my excitement. It’s reflected in Noah’s rising smile as he spills into giggles with me.
Using one finger to trace gentle circles over my swelling uterus, Noah whispers as softly as he can. “This little wolf in here is going to be so lucky.”
My heart muscles squeeze tight. “That’s how I feel whenever I think of you holding them as sweetly as you hold me.”
As Noah’s chest rises, my stomach flips at the loving intensity in our bond. Grasping Noah’s hand, I hold our baby with him, my heart throbbing with joy.
But my eyes widen. “That sounded so cute just now, actually—what you just said. What if we call them that, for now? Little Wolf.”
Noah blinks. Then he breaks into the biggest smile, his eyes crinkling as he brushes my nose with his. “Little Wolf. That’s way too sweet. I love it.”
We’re a mess of giggles, whispers, and soft touches. If we weren’t so tucked away, I’d feel terrible for expressing this much mushy PDA, but I can’t help myself; each touch seems to erase every last ounce of stress we’ve both carried for weeks.
But after sharing a few more laughs with Noah, my shoulders slump. “Dammit, I wanted to revisit our plans for the Summit, but I can’t think.”
Noah strokes my cheek, softening his voice. “Let’s save that for later—on our shorter flight from London. You don’t look like you feel very well.”
My jaw tightens through a wave of nausea the second I focus on it. “You’re not wrong.”
“Take a nap, gorgeous. You need it.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Yes, my love. I’ve got all three of us covered—Little Wolf, included.”
I freeze, not expecting the sharp spike of emotion Noah created with our pup’s nickname. Noah’s wild eyes meet mine, his cheeks blazing, and I laugh.
“You’re waking me back up with excitement.”
Noah’s deep, purring chuckle widens my smile. “Oh, yeah? I think I can fix that.”
He’s right; I hum in delight, unable to keep my eyes open against Noah’s warm hand as he strokes my belly with bigger, slower caresses. He soothes me from every angle, running soft touches down my face until my head droops, ready to doze off against his shoulder.
There you go, precious wolf. I love seeing you at peace, Noah mindlinks.
As I lose my conscious thoughts to sleep, I can feel Noah’s telling me the truth; with his full focus locked on me, I’m amazed by how happy his heart feels. I hadn’t realized it until now, but prioritizing my needs during this pregnancy supports Noah’s wellbeing too.
The tranquility flowing between us sinks me deeper into my chair. Curling up on my side with one hand on Noah’s chest, I cherish every heartbeat beneath my palm, counting them until I lose track.
But the next time I open my eyes, I’m shaken awake by turbulence. My throat scrapes dry, my heart races, and my whole body pulses with an achy vengeance.
It’s too much stimulation at once. My mind struggles to find its bearings, leaving me wide-eyed and breathless.
Noah perks up, alert eyes tracking my every breath. “Are you having a panic attack?”
After gulping down a few mouthfuls of water, I close my eyes. “Maybe, actually. I’ll try to ground myself.”
“Okay, I’m right here.”
I do my best to meditate despite my racing heart, feeling the weight of Noah’s palm on my thigh. I want to relax, but I grimace, unable to shake off the aches consuming me. Doubling over, I let out a slow, quivering exhale.
“Oh, Luna... What do you feel like?” Noah whispers.
I sigh. “Sorry, I think I just have really bad body aches from being in one position for too long. Everything hurts.”
Worry creases Noah’s brows. “Stand up for me and turn around, gorgeous. I’ll give you a massage.”
“Goddess, you’re sweet—” I struggle to swallow. Glancing around us, I rise on shaky legs. “Actually, are we allowed to get up right now? The seatbelt sign is on. I’m also a little worried I’ll throw up unexpectedly and won’t be able to turn around to get a bag in time.”
“I’ve got you.” Fetching a bag for me with one hand, Noah keeps another sturdy palm on my lower back.
His touch soothes me, tethering us together like a lifeline. When he hands me the bag, I huff out a touched breath, my eyes stinging; not only did he stuff the bags with paper towels, keeping anything from splashing back and dirtying my clothes, but he knows I get embarrassed by the see-through bags, concealing it for me inside another waterproof, machine-washable bag.
Noah doesn’t seem to understand my sudden, gushing affection for him, stroking the back of my head as he swipes away my tears. “Don’t worry about the seatbelt sign. We’ll just let them have to instruct us to sit down. But if you want me to block anyone from seeing you while you get sick, I can.”
“It’s okay, I—” Clenching my teeth, I decide it’s safer to keep my mouth shut for now, trembling through too many aches to keep track of.
“Keep breathing,” Noah whispers. His palms sweep down my arms, back, and hips, warming my sore joints. I shut my eyes, leaning into his touch with a soft groan when he reaches the dimples behind my hips. “There you go. You’re doing so well.”
My heart flutters at his words. Thankfully, I don’t feel like I’m at the level of nausea where I have to fully throw up, but I’m still producing so much excess saliva in preparation that I’m forced to continually spit into the bag. It’s gross.
But Noah’s breath skates over the back of my neck, sending tingles down my spine. As he continues to rub, knead, and caress me, my muscles loosen, lessening my nausea.
“That’s helping so much. Thank you, love,” I whisper.
Noah sighs. “Fuck, I’m just so sorry you had to fly this far while pregnant. It seems absolutely miserable .”
“It’s okay—” I pause, clearing my throat; my trembling voice is nowhere near convincing. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself. “Like I said, I want to be here with you. And I’d do anything for this baby.”
“I know, me too. So keep leaning on me and allowing me to carry this struggle with you, okay? You’re doing great.”
I nod, but I can’t bear to waste my energy on speaking a single word more. I’m forced to breathe deeply with my eyes closed, gripping my sickness bag tight.
“Are you both okay? Do you need anything?” A new voice chimes in.
Dammit, that must be a flight attendant. I pry one eye open, but Noah’s hands slow into gentle sweeps on my back, a silent reassurance he’ll take care of things. As he applies climbing pressure up my spine, I drop my chin to my chest, allowing my neck muscles to loosen between gentle, swirling presses of Noah’s thumbs.
He keeps his voice soft. “She’s just feeling a little stiff and motion sick. We’ll try to sit back down in a minute.”
“Would you like some ginger candies or sparkling water?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
As the flight attendant’s heels clack away from us down the aisle, I expand my rib cage further with each breath, allowing Noah’s pressure to deepen beneath my shoulder blades.
But a different voice in front of me snaps my eyes open.
“I’m so sorry to accidentally eavesdrop, but I have something else that could help, if you’d like.”
A fifty-something woman pokes her head around the privacy divider across the aisle. She’s wearing a tailored gray business suit, her silky black hair wrapped in a perfect bun.
My heart drops. For a second, she looks just like my mom—her kind, dark eyes radiating with care.
When I regain my bearings, my eyebrows pinch in worry. “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry to disturb your luxury flight like this.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, no, not at all! You’ve both been incredibly quiet, actually. I just noticed your discomfort as I was trading another book to read from my bag, and even before your sweet husband commented about your pregnancy, I knew I could relate to your struggles.”
Shit, sorry. Maybe I was louder than I thought, Noah mindlinks.
Don’t be sorry for how incredible you’ve been, Noah. I think it’s more like you said in the parking garage; I’m starting to look pregnant now too. Maybe it was too wishful of us to think we could hide it at the Summit.
Noah’s uncertainty rises with mine in our bond, but his hand wrapping around my belly reminds me he’s here, figuring out this trip alongside me.
This stranger scoots to the edge of her chair, facing me in the aisle. Placing two gray, wide elastic bands into her palm, she extends her hand. “Ever since my first pregnancy, I’ve had terrible motion sickness. I have an extra pair of sea bands, if you’d like them.”
A sharp spike of surprise hits my chest. My emotions waver, uncertain how to react to such thoughtfulness. I’m tempted to apologize or dissuade my way out of this, preventing myself from being a burden on this kind stranger. But Noah’s hand still cupped around Little Wolf reminds me why I agreed with him this morning; I don’t want our baby to learn this false belief that they can’t accept help.
And if they were in my position, feeling sick on a plane, I’d want our future pup to use a stranger’s sea bands. Especially if they happen to be missing their mom.
So I take the bands with a smile, even as my ribs tighten in discomfort. “Oh, my gosh, how kind. Thank you!” I lift one band to analyze it. A small, round bead is sewn into the elastic. “I’ve seen these before, but I’ve never used them.”
Noah’s fingers loosen around my sides as he peeks over my shoulder. “What do they do?”
“They’re for an acupressure point on your wrist. Here, let me show you how to use them.” The woman holds out her hand with a smile.
The world must be testing me today. I give her a shaky smile, cautiously extending my wrist. After adjusting the band into the correct position with thin, nimble fingers, she rubs its small, sewn ball attachment into my wrist. Noah copies her on my other hand, and I relax my back against Noah’s chest at their gentle massaging.
After a minute of silence, my nausea reduces enough to stop swallowing as hard. “Wow. That actually helped a lot. Thank you so much, seriously.”
The woman breaks into a bright smile. “Of course! Keep them.”
“What? Are you sure—”
She laughs. “Really, I mean it. From one mom to another.”
Blinking a few times, I’m hit with a wave of excitement. God, I’m a mom.
The flight attendant returns with more than just ginger candies and sparkling water: she also offers me her pregnancy sickness suggestions once she hears us talking about it. As Noah’s eyes light up beside me, enthusiasm lacing every shy, quiet question he asks about how to better care for me during pregnancy, my heart pounds, touched to my core that so many people offered to help. The world might be testing me, but the universe decided Noah was right this morning, and it gave me plenty of practice accepting support—and feeling like a burden.
With how much these strangers seem to delight in sharing their advice, another aspect of my thinking is tempted to change; after months of watching our backs, wherever we go, maybe there are safe strangers in the world too.
I can’t stop smiling. “How are you all so nice? Can I send you both a card, or something?”
We all laugh, but surprisingly, both women share their emails and PO Boxes with me. As we each settle back into our seats, I scribble down my thoughts on the comfort they’ve provided me, vowing to write to them on a postcard from Sweden.
Noah chuckles beside me, kissing my temple. “Goddess, you’re so damn cute. I know you have your concerns, but personally, I’m not worried about you getting along with other Lunas.”
I sputter out a laugh, loving the tenderness I find in his eyes. “I need to write you a card too, after all this. You’re my hero, Noah.”
Noah drops his chin to his chest, easing back into his seat with a smile. I giggle, snuggling in at his side.
Maybe today is a good omen, after all; despite how rough we’ve had it, we’ve continually ended up smiling together, surrounded by kind strangers.