Chapter 17
Seventeen
SUMMER
Even in my tiny apartment, finding an even tinier hedgehog proves to be challenging.
But I can’t let Prick stay out of his cage for long. Hedgehogs are notoriously fragile, and I can’t even count the number of hazards in this apartment that could kill him.
I must not have secured his lid properly. That’s the only way he could’ve climbed out and escaped.
How could I have been so stupid? I was more focused on taunting Noah and acting out my fantasies of him than I was on ensuring my pet’s safety.
Maybe Hazel was right that I should’ve picked a sturdier animal. Or a plant. To be fair, though, she didn’t think I’d even be capable of keeping a cactus alive.
I frantically check inside closets, the laundry basket, under furniture. Panic starts to mount as I search through a cabinet under the kitchen sink that there’s no way he could’ve gotten into, but I’ve abandoned all logic in my desperation.
“Prick!” I call, an edge of hysteria to my voice. “It’s time for bed, not hide and seek.”
I will never forgive myself if something happens to him. What if he’s trapped somewhere? What if he’s hurt?
Noah was a vet tech, and Victoria called him the other day when she found an injured bird. Maybe he won’t be too furious with me if I call him at eleven o’clock at night to perform first aid on my hedgehog.
But I have to find the little escape artist first.
If Noah had shown up to my apartment like I anticipated he would when I put on that little show for him in front of the camera, Prick would probably already be safe and sound back in his cage. Noah must’ve fallen asleep early, leaving me unsatisfied and aching for him.
Or maybe he did witness my performance and decided this is all too much for him. Maybe he realized he’s actually not up for fucking someone this insane, and I’ll get a text from him in the morning calling off our arrangement and letting me down gently.
The thought of Noah ending even a fake relationship with me makes my chest squeeze painfully.
“Prick!” Normally, he perks up at his name, but he doesn’t come running.
Tears blur my vision, and I press the heels of my palms against my eyes.
These are the moments I wish I didn’t live alone.
When life becomes too much for one person to shoulder on their own.
It’s late, I’m tired, frustratingly horny, and I wish I had someone here to help me and hug me and wipe my tears away.
No, not someone. Noah. I wish Noah was here.
But he’s not, and I cannot waste time crying right now. Prick needs me.
I freeze at a familiar squeaking sound from the living room.
When I round the corner, vision clear, I swear under my breath and dart for Prick’s cage.
He’s running on his wheel.
My racing heart finally starts to slow. He’s safe. But how the hell is he in his cage? There’s no way he could’ve gotten in there himself. Did I imagine he’d escaped?
No. I definitely saw his adorable little body scampering past the nightlight in the hallway.
“Prick, you little bastard. You scared the shit out of me. How did you get back in there? I know you were out of your cage.” I search nearby, but there’s nothing he could’ve used as a ramp to get back inside. “How did you even escape?”
The lid is securely in place. There’s no way he could’ve gotten out unless the lid was open.
That means—
My heart catches in my throat, and I whip around, searching the dimly lit apartment.
Someone put Prick back in his cage. Someone is in here with me. And it isn’t Noah.
If he was here, he would’ve announced himself by now. I would’ve heard him open the door.
I race down the hall and into my room, hands shaking while I dig for my pistol in my dresser. Pointing a gun at an intruder should be enough encouragement for them to get the hell out of my home.
In the darkness, my hands tremble, and the creak of footsteps makes me whirl in the direction of my office.
My heart has never hammered this hard in my life as I try to sneak as silently as I can across the hall.
In the middle of the room, a tall, lanky figure in all black and a mask hovers, searching like he’s not sure which escape route to take: push open the window and climb out, or shove past me and run for the door.
But then he spots the pistol, and his hands fly up, turning so his shoulder is pointing in my direction like he can make himself a smaller target. “Don’t shoot!” A hand tugs up the mask, and my palms flinch at the movement. “It’s me!”
The mask is off. A familiar face beneath. Blue eyes round with terror, jaw slack, the lips I’ve tasted now parted in horror.
Noah.
Of course. Only he would sneak around in my apartment to secretly return Prick to safety.
Every tense muscle in my body unravels.
I didn’t think Noah showed up. He didn’t crawl through any windows or break in through the front door. Surely, I would’ve heard him.
Maybe he’s better at this whole stalking thing than I thought. Although his secret is out now.
“Put the gun down, Summer.” He murmurs the words like I’m a skittish deer.
I nod. I didn’t even realize I was still pointing the barrel at him. “Sorry, I—”
But when I lower the gun, a blast makes me jump.
Noah screams, and the pistol lands at my feet.
He drops to the floor, hand clutching his hip as he curses. Wait, no. Not his hip. His—
“You shot me in the ass!”
I race to his side and drop to my knees, hands hovering over him awkwardly. Will touching him make this better or worse? “I’m so sorry! I must’ve accidentally pulled the trigger! Are you okay?”
“You shot me in the ass!” He drops his head back, groaning.
Shit, I don’t know anything about first aid. I think you’re supposed to tie something above the wound to stop the blood flow. A tourniquet or something? But how do you stop the blood flow to someone’s ass cheek?
Oh god, Noah is going to bleed out right here on my floor, and it’s all my fault.
“I thought you wanted me over here! You practically summoned me with all that moaning and gyrating on the camera! You said you wanted a stalker!” he shouts, reaching a pitch I haven’t heard from him before as agony pinches his features.
“How do you know I wanted a stalker?”
“You told me! The night we met.”
“You remember that?” I had to text him the morning after we met to remind him who I was, let alone what he’d done and the mess he’d left behind.
“As soon as you reminded me what happened that night, everything came back to me.” His cheeks are flushed as he pants, gritting his teeth through the pain. Yet he still manages to keep a steady, intense gaze on me. “I’ve never forgotten a second I’ve spent with you, Summer. Not one.”
My knees grow weak with his confession, vision blurring. “You did all of this . . . just because I said I wanted it?”
“Of course. I’d do anything you want. I’d take a bullet for you,” he gasps, nodding down to his wound. “Literally.”
My lips collide with his, and he kisses me back, tugging me closer with the hand that isn’t clutching his ass.
Noah is the most incredible man I’ve ever met. Selfless, thoughtful, funny, kind. I can’t believe he’s real, let alone willing to indulge me in even my most unhinged fantasies.
He tastes minty sweet, and I could kiss him all night if he didn’t break away from me to hiss a groan. “My god, I love kissing you, but fuck, this hurts.”
When he lifts his hand from his wound to assess the damage, his eyelids start to fall at the sight of blood, head lolling. Shit, he’s getting woozy.
“Don’t pass out on me, Noah. We need to get you to a hospital.”
With shaking hands, I pull out my phone to call 911. No idea how we’re going to explain the bullet lodged in his ass.