Chapter 16
Noah
Noah saw Twyla as he was leaving the hospital. He wanted to stay but decided he wasn’t going to do any good sitting in the cafeteria. Maybe he could get into his makeshift studio and record a few ideas. He always tried to do that when he was waiting for something to happen.
Twyla was sitting in her car in the parking lot.
He could hear her music playing, as her windows were down.
She liked country but only old-school country, and she loved to sing along.
Her singing was terribly off-key, but thanks to all her dancing, she had a fantastic sense of rhythm.
The song she was singing along to was some old ballad about driving back home at midnight, and Noah couldn’t help noticing it was a fairly accurate description of his situation—except the heartbreak, of course.
Noah just sang about having a broken heart.
He wouldn’t know what that was like in real life.
“Thank you,” he said.
She nodded. “Of course. For what?”
“For letting me know about Emi. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but I think they let Aya back in.”
Twyla grinned. “Emi’s fine. That con artist, she’s convincing them to discharge her tonight. She probably sweet-talked Dr. Flores. Guess if you spend enough time in hospitals, you learn how to pull some strings, right?”
Noah could ask around and probably get an answer as to what was wrong with Emi, but if it wasn’t public knowledge, he would try to refrain from asking.
Twyla would have been more specific if Emi wanted people to know.
Ever since the tabloids had tried to get warm and cozy with Noah’s personal life, getting a little too close to a truth that would have shocked their readership, he had tried to err on the side of respecting others.
“Well, thanks,” he said. “I owe you one.”
“An interview?” asked Twyla. “Well, what a coincidence. Because I could really use a good interview. Consider this me calling in the favor.”
“I don’t really d-do interviews these days,” said Noah, and as he stuttered, he was reminded why. “But if you need festival tickets, let me know.”
Twyla laughed. “I have a press badge, dude. Tickets are the last thing I would need.”
He nodded. “Well, yeah. Anything else, just let me know.”
Twyla’s face lit up. “Oh! Come to think of it, there is something.”
Her grin was so wide that Noah dreaded the explanation. “Okay, great. What is it?”
As Twyla described what she wanted him to do, Noah felt some serious reservations.
But Aya was pushing Emi’s wheelchair through the doors of the hospital.
In a bigger city, they would have insisted that a nurse escort the patient to her car, but in Love Hollow, a trusted local could get around some of the regulations.
Emi, who was grinning, almost jumped out of the chair.
The two of them headed over, arm in arm, and Noah was out of time.
If he wanted to avoid speaking with them, he was going to have to leave.
Giving them a little wave, he nodded to Twyla.
“I’ll make it happen,” he said. “But I can’t promise I’ll be very good.”
“Oh, Noah,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll be good enough.”