Chapter 63
Nora's POV
The words hit me like a slap. I stared at him, completely lost. "What?"
His jaw tightened slightly. "I saw. You and that man."
Understanding crashed over me. Henry. He was talking about Henry.
"You saw?" The question burst out.
He didn't deny it. Didn't even try to soften it. Instead, he asked, blunt and direct, "Is he your new boyfriend?"
"No!" The denial came faster than thought. "He's just a friend from college. He gave me a ride. That's all."
I watched the tension drain from Julian's shoulders, saw the dangerous glint fade from his eyes. He seemed jealous. Actually, genuinely jealous. It surprised me.
The distant sound of an engine broke the moment. I turned to see the Navigator approaching, Ethan inside. Relief and disappointment warred inside me—relief that this impossible conversation would end, disappointment for the exact same reason.
"Well," I said quickly, seizing the excuse to escape, "you should get going."
I started to turn, but his hand shot out and caught my wrist again. The grip was feather-light, barely there, but it stopped me as effectively as if he'd used actual force.
"Remember to give me an answer." His voice had dropped lower, intimate in a way that made my pulse race. "About the job. And about..." He paused, his eyes searching mine. "What I said."
My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it. "I will. I'll think about it."
He released my wrist, but before turning toward the waiting car, he added one more thing. "Unblock me. I need to be able to reach you."
Heat rushed to my face. The night after the hotel incident, I had blocked his contact in hurt and anger.
I opened my blocked contacts, found his number, and clicked unblock. "Done."
His expression softened somewhat. "Good." Then he added, his voice dropping lower, "Don't make me wait too long."
The words hung in the air between us, carrying more weight than seemed possible. I stood there like an idiot, unable to form a coherent response, my hand lifting in an awkward wave.
Julian climbed into the Navigator.
The car pulled away slowly. I watched the taillights disappear into the night, my mind replaying every word, every look, every impossible thing that had just happened.
Only when the car was completely out of sight did I take a deep breath and turn back toward the hospital. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and the warmth inside felt almost suffocating after the bite of the winter air outside.
I forced myself to calm down as I walked toward the elevator. My reflection in the polished metal doors showed flushed cheeks. I looked like someone who'd just been through something life-altering, which I supposed I had.
The elevator ride to Mom's floor felt both too long and too short. I needed time to collect myself, to put on a neutral face, but I also desperately wanted to be somewhere familiar, somewhere I could process what had just happened.
When I pushed open the door to her room, I found her already asleep. The dim light from the hallway spilled across her face, highlighting how thin she'd become.
I moved quietly to the chair beside her bed and sank into it. For a long moment, I just sat there.
"Mom," I whispered, even though I knew she couldn't hear me. "Something really strange happened today."
The words started tumbling out, quiet and halting at first, then faster. I told her about the elevator, about Julian's confession.
"I don't know what to do," I admitted, my voice cracking. "He says he likes me, but... how can I believe it won't end the same way everything else has?"
My hand found hers on the bed, wrapping around those familiar fingers that now felt so fragile. "I'm scared, Mom. I'm scared of getting hurt again. I'm scared of believing in something that might not be real."
Mom's eyebrows drew together slightly in her sleep, as if she could sense my distress. I squeezed her hand gently.
"I wish you could tell me what to do," I whispered. "I wish you could help me figure this out."
But she stayed silent, lost in dreams. And I sat there beside her, holding her hand, feeling more alone than I had in months.
Eventually, I had to leave. Visiting hours were long over, and the night nurse gave me a pointed look when she came in to check Mom's vitals. I kissed Mom's forehead and walked out of the hospital.
The hotel was only a block away. When I let myself in and locked the door behind me, every detail seemed to press in on me.
I didn't turn on the overhead light. Just the bedside lamp, which cast a warm, dim glow that somehow made the space feel even smaller. I dropped my bag on the floor and collapsed onto the couch.
My mind refused to shut down. It kept circling back to the elevator, to Julian's voice saying I like you, to the way he'd looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world.
Can't you see that I like you?
I pressed my palms against my face, feeling the heat in my cheeks that hadn't faded yet.
I got up and walked to the bathroom, needing to do something, anything, to break the cycle of thoughts. The fluorescent light was harsh after the dim bedroom, making me squint. I turned on the shower, letting the water heat up while I stripped off my clothes.
Steam began to fill the small space, fogging up the mirror. I stepped under the spray, letting the hot water pound against my shoulders and back. It should have been relaxing. It should have helped clear my head.
Instead, all I could think about was Julian. His voice. His eyes.
I closed my eyes, and the scene played out again behind my eyelids. The confined space. The intensity of his presence. The slight hitch in his breathing when he'd said he liked me. The way his hand had felt around my wrist—possessive but gentle, claiming but careful.
My eyes snapped open. I grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed at my face, as if I could wash away the thoughts, the feelings, the traitorous part of me that wanted to believe him.
When I finally turned off the water and stepped out, the mirror was completely fogged over. I wiped a section clear with my hand and stared at my reflection. Water dripped down my face. My eyes looked too bright, too confused, too full of something I didn't want to name.
You're attracted to him, a small voice in my head whispered.