Chapter 72
Nora's POV
Lucas's pickup truck smelled like pine air freshener and old coffee. Country music played softly through the speakers as he navigated away from the building, the setting sun turning the structures into dark silhouettes against a burning sky.
"Congrats, Nora! NPR—that's huge! If you ever do on-air interviews, give me advance notice so I can organize a viewing party with the whole family."
"I'm doing investigative work behind the scenes, not anchoring the evening news." I laughed and swatted his shoulder. "And if you dare tell everyone you know, I'll post those photos of you wetting the bed when you were seven."
"Nora! That was years ago!"
Lucas shot me a sideways glance, his expression turning mischievous. "Speaking of embarrassing memories, remember in high school when you had that massive crush on the basketball team captain? You used to fix your hair every single time you walked past his classroom, and then one day it got caught in your backpack zipper and you just stood there frozen—"
"Lucas Grey! Don't you dare—"
"—and you avoided that hallway for like a month afterward because you were so mortified—"
"Okay, fine. And what about you and your first girlfriend? You ate two entire tubs of ice cream after she dumped you and swore you'd 'never believe in love again.'"
He held up both hands in surrender, laughing. "Okay, okay. Truce. We don't bring up each other's past humiliations."
"Deal."
We drove in companionable silence for a while, the city giving way to the streets of RiverView Community. The streetlights had just flickered on, casting pools of yellow light across the pavement.
Then I saw it—a black Lincoln Navigator parked along the curb, distinctive even without checking the plates. I knew that vehicle. My heart kicked hard against my ribs.
"Lucas, pull over."
He glanced at me, confused. "What's wrong?"
"I just—I need to grab something from the convenience store on the corner. You can head home, I'll walk from there."
"I can come with you—"
"No!" The word came out too sharp. I forced a smile. "It's fine. Just something quick."
Lucas looked skeptical but nodded. "Okay. Don't take too long."
I climbed out, watching his taillights disappear around the corner before turning toward the small path that cut through the side of the complex. My pulse was doing that stupid racing thing again, and I felt ridiculous, like a teenager sneaking past her parents' bedroom.
What am I doing? Hiding like some kind of criminal. But even as I thought it, my feet kept moving, following the narrow path bordered by neatly trimmed hedges where the lamplight didn't quite reach. I'm not avoiding him. I just don't want to run into him right now. There's a difference.
I slipped behind a row of bushes, peering out at the Lincoln through the branches. The windows were half-open, interior dark and empty. No sign of Julian.
Where is he?
I edged along the path, intending to circle around to the other entrance, heart still hammering stupidly in my chest. I turned the corner—
—and walked straight into Julian emerging from the tree line.
He wore a dark casual jacket over a gray henley, phone in hand, and when he saw me his expression shifted from mild surprise to something knowing and amused. "Playing thief? All that sneaking around."
Heat flooded my face. I tried for dignity and mostly failed. "I wasn't sneaking. And what are you doing lurking in the trees? That's way more suspicious."
His eyebrow lifted. "I was waiting for someone who claimed to be 'busy tonight.'"
I looked away, suddenly very interested in the hedge to my left. "I am busy."
"Mm. Busy doing what, exactly?" He took a step closer. "Avoiding me?"
I stepped back automatically, my shoulders hitting the rough bark of a tree. My heart was in my throat now, loud enough I was sure he could hear it. The lamplight filtering through the leaves cast shifting shadows across his face, making it hard to read his expression, but his presence felt overwhelming.
The night breeze carried the scent of gardenias, mixing with something else, something that made my head feel light. I thought suddenly of the dream, of hands and heat and—
No. Stop. Don't go there.
"I'm not avoiding you," I managed. "I just have things to do."
"Uh-huh." He didn't sound convinced.
The air between us felt thick, charged with something I didn't want to name. He was close enough now. His hand moved, reaching into his jacket, and I tensed.
Then he pulled out something small and furry.
I blinked. Stared.
A kitten—tiny, black, barely the size of his palm—mewed weakly from his cupped hands. Its eyes weren't fully open yet, and it trembled in the cool evening air.
Every complicated feeling in my chest evaporated, replaced by instant concern. "Oh my god. What—where—"
"Found it in the bushes back there." Julian's expression had softened completely, the teasing edge gone. "Heard crying, took me three circles to track down where it was coming from. No sign of the mother."
I reached out without thinking, and he transferred the kitten carefully into my hands. It was cold, so small and fragile I was afraid to breathe wrong. "Poor baby. It's freezing."
"Yeah." He touched a finger gently to the kitten's head, and the gesture was unexpectedly tender. "Couldn't just leave it."
I cradled the kitten against my chest, trying to warm it. "Its mother might come back—"
"I checked everywhere. Either she abandoned it or..." He didn't finish, but I understood. Urban predators, cars, any number of dangers that left tiny kittens orphaned and alone.
The kitten mewed again, a sound so pitiful tears pricked my eyes. "You're all alone now, aren't you?" My voice came out thick. "No family left."
Like me.
The thought hit harder than I expected. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sudden blur.
"Nora." Julian's voice had gone gentle. "You okay?"
"Fine." I cleared my throat. "We need to figure out what to do with it. We can't leave it out here—it won't survive the night."
"Could set up a heated shelter in the tree line, leave food and water. The mother might return."
I shook my head. "It's too young. Can't regulate its own temperature yet, can't eat solid food. If its mother's really gone..."
"What about taking it to your place?" he asked.