Chapter 29 #2
“I want the six years back. I want to wake without checking whether my head hurts. I want to run upstairs. I want to remember asking you to marry me.”
My chest tightened.
“No amount pays for that.”
“No.”
“So don’t call me lucky.”
“I didn’t.”
“Felicity did without saying it.”
“She said the result was favorable.”
“Same thing.”
I took his hand.
He let me, but his fingers remained tense.
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t cause it.”
“I sounded excited yesterday.”
“You were.”
“The number shocked me.”
Noah looked down.
“I haven’t thought about money properly since I woke.”
“You weren’t able to.”
“You showed me accounts. I forgot half of it.”
“That is why we reviewed one category at a time.”
“And now there is four hundred thousand dollars because my brain is damaged.”
The sentence hung between us.
I turned off the engine.
“We can put it somewhere safe and do nothing.”
His gaze lifted.
“What?”
“A separate account in your name. No card attached. No investment decision until you have independent advice and enough cognitive energy to choose.”
“You won’t use it for the yard?”
“No.”
“You need equipment.”
“The business claim covers business losses.”
“What about the mortgage?”
“Covered.”
“The apartment modifications?”
“Already paid.”
He studied me.
“You don’t think it’s ours.”
“It is yours.”
“We’re partners.”
“Yes.”
“I would help you.”
“And someday you may choose to. I will not assume.”
His face softened slightly.
“I don’t want it.”
“You do not have to want it today.”
“What if I spend it badly?”
“We slow every decision.”
“What if people find out?”
“We tell no one who doesn’t need to know.”
“What if I forget?”
“I write it in the journal and the bank sends statements.”
A tired smile appeared.
“You always have an answer.”
“No.”
“You do for me.”
“I have answers for the next ten minutes. That is different.”
He leaned back.
“Clinic.”
“You still want to go?”
“Yes.”
The sexual-health clinic occupied a quieter building two blocks away.
The visit was unremarkable.
Forms.
Questions.
Blood draw.
Urine sample.
The nurse explained that routine results would arrive in the secure portal within several days.
Noah looked exhausted by the time we returned to the car.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Real?”
“No.”
“Then cruel.”
I bought him decaf anyway and a blueberry muffin.
He ate half the muffin before falling asleep against the window.
At home, he slept for four hours.
I called our bank and scheduled an appointment with a fiduciary adviser unaffiliated with the yard. Then I placed every settlement document in the office safe beside the ring.
Their proximity carried a symbolism I did not want to examine.
Money for what was lost.
A ring for what might still be chosen.
When Noah woke, evening had reached the harbor.
He found me at the kitchen table reading the clinic paperwork.
“How’s your head?”
“Two.”
“Hip?”
“Better.”
He poured water.
“Did you hide the money?”
“The documents are in the safe.”
“With the ring?”
“Yes.”
He went still.
I waited.
“Strange safe.”
“It also contains vehicle titles and a flare gun.”
“That helps.”
He sat opposite me.
“I meant what I said about wanting our first time without a barrier.”
“I know.”
“Are you comfortable with that?”
“After results, yes.”
“You don’t need time to decide?”
“I made the decision once. I am willing to make it again.”
His fingers moved over the table.
“I want to ask things.”
“Ask.”
“Was I nervous the first time?”
“Yes.”
“Did it hurt?”
“A little at the beginning.”
His face tightened.
I continued carefully.
“We prepared slowly. You controlled the pace. You told me when the discomfort changed.”
“Into pleasure?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever ask to stop?”
“Yes.”
He looked surprised.
“When?”
“Once, early in our relationship. You became overwhelmed.”
“What did you do?”
“I stopped.”
“Were you angry?”
“No.”
“Frustrated?”
“Yes.”
The honesty mattered.
“What happened after?”
“We lay together. You apologized. I told you not to. Two nights later, you asked again.”
“And?”
“We went slower.”
He absorbed it.
“I think I need to know you can be frustrated and still safe.”
“You do.”
“I’m not asking you to be perfect.”
“Good.”
He leaned forward.
“I’m asking you not to hide what I need to understand.”
“I won’t.”
His gaze held mine.
“When the results arrive, I want to try.”
My body reacted, but I did not move.
“What does try mean?”
“Preparation. Touch. Maybe penetration.”
“Maybe.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Bed.”
“Position?”
“Side by side first.”
“Good.”
“Maeve said lying on my back with support could work too.”
“Yes.”
He noticed my surprise.
“I took notes.”
“Of course.”
“What do you want?”
The question shifted the atmosphere between us.
I considered before answering.
“I want to touch you without fear becoming the loudest thing between us.”
His expression softened.
“I want to see you feel good.”
I reached across the table.
“And I want you to know stopping will not cost you anything.”
Noah gave me his hand.
“What else?”
Desire warmed my voice.
“I want to be inside you.”
His breath caught.
“I want the closeness we remember and the one we haven’t made yet.”
His eyes darkened.
“But only when your yes is about wanting it, not proving recovery.”
“It is.”
“Today?”
“Today.”
“Tomorrow can answer again.”
He exhaled.
“You’re relentless.”
“Yes.”
He rose and came around the table.
I looked up.
Noah placed both hands on my shoulders.
“Can tomorrow also say yes?”
“It may.”
He kissed me.
Slow.
Deep enough that my fingers tightened at his waist.
When he drew back, his cheeks were warm.
“The settlement means I can do anything.”
“Financially.”
“I could buy a house.”
“Yes.”
“A boat.”
“Yes.”
“An irresponsible number of tools.”
“Unfortunately.”
He studied my face.
“I don’t want any of that.”
“What do you want?”
He touched the side of my neck.
“A future that feels like mine.”
He answered quietly.
“What does it look like?”
“The yard.”
I smiled.
“Predictable.”
“Marlowe.”
The dog lifted his head from the rug.
“Reid.”
My chest tightened.
“Good choice.”
“The ring one day.”
I covered his hand.
“One day.”
“And maybe a trip when I can handle airports.”
“Where?”
“Nova Scotia.”
The plan we once made.
He did not remember making it.
He chose it anyway.
I kissed his palm.
“Then we start there.”
“Not with the trip.”
“No?”
“With dinner.”
“What are we having?”
Noah looked toward the refrigerator.
“Something requiring one hand and no advanced planning.”
“Sandwiches.”
“Yes.”
We made them together.
He cut tomatoes.
I found the mustard.
Marlowe waited beneath the counter.
Nothing about the evening was worth four hundred thousand dollars.
Nothing about it could be purchased.
Noah stood beside me, tired and sore and alive.
When our shoulders touched, he leaned into the contact.
“Cal?”
“Yes?”
“Always have.”
I turned.
His smile was small.
Certain.
“Always will,” I answered.