Chapter 12
I decide to let some of my own ghosts out into the room. —Milo Warner
“George? Where’s George? Where’s Bradley Bear?”
I can only shake my head softly and smile at Noah’s words. And believe me, the smile is a damn miracle. When I saw Noah plummeting toward that tree stump, my first reaction was immediate and instant panic.
I’m a doctor, for crying out loud. I’ve had years of practice at staying poised in times of crisis.
But watching Noah go headfirst toward a hard object was a hell of reminder that even I’m not a robot, and I had to pull out every deep breathing technique I had to stay in control while I was checking his airway and limb movement.
Luckily, he didn’t seem to have hit his head that hard, and he woke up only moments after he passed out.
He was mostly coherent on the way to the hospital, where Jack and Sam used their connections to make sure he got some fast head scans, and after he was diagnosed with a very mild concussion, we were able to bring him back to the community center fairly quickly—or quickly for hospital time anyway.
But every time he wakes up from the near constant state of sleep he’s been in since we got back to the cabin, he asks about that damn bear.
“Bradley Bear’s safely at home with George Ryker,” I remind him softly as I card a hand through his hair.
“Who better damn well be getting extra lessons in woodland safety after all of this.” I push a strand of his bangs back from his forehead, and Noah sighs softly.
He was a little distressed earlier, so I lay down in bed with him to keep an eye out for any further concussion symptoms.
That’s when I discovered just how much Noah Hardaway likes it when someone pets his hair while he’s trying to rest.
I should stop. I know I should. But the way Noah leans into my touch, searching with his forehead for the center of my palm, has me either unwilling or unable to step away.
I’m going to keep petting Noah Hardaway until he wants me to stop, dammit.
Familial rivalry and age gaps and other inconvenient truths be damned.
Noah groans. “The day camp test,” he whispers. “We had a lot riding on this event.”
“I know,” I tell him. “But everything’s good. Malachai and Benson stepped in to help at the end of the hike, and all the kids were nothing but happy when their parents picked them up. Those little muppets love Malachai, and Benson too. Not that he’d ever admit it.”
The corners of Noah’s mouth perk up as he blinks at me. “He and Jack make great parents.”
Yeah. Yeah, they do. And Jack’s happiness is no small thing.
My best friend lost all his shine after a nasty divorce.
Benson brings every beam of his light back, and that’s just one of the reasons I’ll always be grateful for him.
Something else I can now add to the list is how quickly he and Malachai got their asses up to the community center when they heard about Noah’s injury.
Benson didn’t even flinch before he said, “We’ve got Gabe. Just go take care of Noah.”
Maybe Benson could tell? I have to wonder if he could read any of these problematic, off-limits feelings I’ve got for Noah Hardaway written all over my face.
Maybe he knew, somehow, that if anyone else offered to watch over Noah while he slept off this concussion, I might have started snarling and hissing at him, just like that protective alpha I keep buried so deeply inside me.
“Why are we like this?” I whisper to the bedroom air more than Noah as I drag another hand through his dirty-blond waves. “What’s this connection between us?”
I don’t expect him to hear me or answer.
He’s been drifting off again pretty quickly every time he wakes up, and thank goodness I know that’s normal for his injury or I’d already have chucked him back in my SUV for another ride to the hospital.
The room’s quiet for just a moment, though, and then Noah answers.
“I learned something about you yesterday that you might not want me to know.”
“You mean that I’m never letting my roommate climb trees on my watch again?” I snort.
Noah leans a little farther against my hand, and before I can second-guess myself too hard, I slide just a little closer to him, until the top of his head is almost pressing against my chest, his thighs just a few inches from mine.
“Ezra called me.”
My chest immediately tightens. “That asshole? What did he want?”
Noah groans. “He wants me to convince Uncle Stan to run. He… he said some things. About your mother. About the health-care bill.”
Time stops around me, just briefly, as I fully take in the implications of what he’s saying.
It’s not as if I was keeping anything about that malpractice suit or the smear campaign a secret from Noah.
I always knew it was just a matter of time before I came up with the guts to talk about it all or he came across a news article and got the whole story.
“Ah,” I finally say. “Yes. The downfall of Dr. Milo Warner, a story in barely one act.”
Noah peeks up at me, eyes shrouded by dark blond hair. “I’m so sorry,” he finally whispers. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
It’s an echo of what I said to him in the square not that long ago.
Even now, coming off a concussion, he manages to come up with just the right words.
And there haven’t been a lot of right words anyone’s been able to say to me since someone decided to make me, and my history as a doctor, a target for their personal destruction.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Noah asks quietly.
“You don’t have to,” he adds. “Not if you don’t want to.
” He’s echoing me again, and all the words are moving through my mind on just the right frequency, soothing back the sharp edges of this conversation.
“But if you want to talk, I’m always here to listen. ”
“You had a concussion,” I remind him. “You should be sleeping.”
Noah frowns and glances down at his watch. “I’ve been sleeping on and off for twenty hours. I don’t even have a headache anymore.” He wrinkles his nose. “Just very, very weird dreams about teddy bears.”
I laugh out loud, and the edges of Noah’s lips peak up into a smile. “Whatever you want, Milo,” he says. Then he closes his eyes and moves slightly, until he’s fully laying his head against my chest.
We’re both quiet for a long time after that, and the only sound in the room is the soft hum of the ceiling fan turning above us.
Bear’s out in the living room; she’s been standing guard over the cabin since Noah and I came home from the hospital.
I feel like she’s standing guard over me too, as I look down at Noah and make a choice.
I decide to let some of the ghosts of my past out into the room to roam with Noah’s ghosts.
“Her name was Ella,” I finally say. “She was eight years old, and she had bone cancer. I was part of her treatment team. Specifically, I amputated her leg.” I close my eyes against the memories of Ella’s high-pitched laugh and the pictures she used to draw for me every time I came to examine her.
“She fought hard, but cancer’s a mean beast. She didn’t make it,” I add, and the words float from my throat like they might be coming from someone else in the room.
Maybe one of the ghosts I was just thinking about.
“Her parents had so much grief, and it all turned to anger. They sued every doctor on her treatment team. When some jackass who hated that bill went to them asking for fodder to take me apart publicly, they said yes. And the next thing I knew, that health-care bill, the one Ma and your dad and so many other people worked so hard on, the one that would have helped so many people, was dead.”
“You know that’s not your fault, right?” I open my eyes to see Noah raise his head off my chest just slightly as he speaks.
“That’s what Ma and her COS both say.” I sink down a little farther onto the bed, and now my head is just above Noah’s.
“But see, my dad died when Mia and I were very little. Bone cancer. Turns out a doctor maybe could have caught it earlier, but everyone missed it. He’s the reason I decided to become a doctor, and he’s the reason I get so fired up about everyone deserving access to health care, no matter what.
So whatever jerkoff decided to pick that particular case to come after me with… ”
“He couldn’t have picked a worse one,” Noah finishes for me. “Yeah. I get that.”
He would, of course. Not everyone on the planet would, but Noah Hardaway? If anyone understands how fucking tragic it is when a person’s life can be saved and isn’t, it’s him.
And that’s how I end up sinking down on the bed just a little bit more, until my chin’s at Noah’s forehead, our bodies so close that you could barely fit a business card between us.
Maybe this is the worst possible moment in human history to ask what I’m about to ask, but hey, what’s the right moment?
I pop out the question that’s been on my mind.
“Noah,” I ask. “I know you mentioned you’ve had some girlfriends. Do you only date women?”
A small smile creeps across Noah’s lips. “So far,” he says. “But I also had a thing for someone at my externship. Perry. They’re non-binary.”
“Perry. Great name.”
“Yup.” He turns to look up at me. “I tend to be interested in the person first, I think. Who they are, what they’re like, you know. Gender, looks, and all that other stuff… it comes second.”
“Oh.” His words hang in the air. “Good for you, Chucks. It took me a few more years than twenty-three before I figured out gender wasn’t a dating dealbreaker for me.
And I know your dad’s got to be supportive of you dating anyone you want.
So yeah. Um.” Why the hell can’t I seem to finish this thought?
Where was I even going with this? Finally, I end this verbal trainwreck I’m on with, “You, Noah Hardaway, deserve a life where you can kiss anyone you want. Date anyone you want.” I glance down at the shirt Noah’s been sleeping in, which says I buy cheese like I’m immortal. “Wear what you want,” I add.
Noah blinks. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, then takes a deep breath. “What if I want to kiss you? Date you?”
“Oh, Noah.” I smooth back his hair. “Listen, I know I’ve crossed some lines with you, and I’ll absolutely admit there’s a connection here.
But I’m so much damn older than you, and we don’t even know if our parents are going to take the plunge and become political frenemies.
You deserve so much better than a washed-up, old-ass doctor with a string of exes who all say he’s controlling. You can do better than me, and I—”
That’s when Noah pushes himself up onto his elbows and kisses me.