Chapter 29 Chapter 29
Noah's POV
I shouldn’t have gone in. That was the first thought that hit me the second I pushed open the training center doors, because I already knew what I was walking into. Emily again.
The image from the cafe hadn’t left my head, the way she looked sitting across from him, being all relaxed, and engaged. The way he leaned forward when she spoke, actually listening. She didn’t look like she was calculating every word before saying it. She looked like she belonged there with someone like him. It stuck annoyingly and that made me uncomfortable.
I was about to see it again. I rolled my shoulder once before stepping fully inside, trying to shake the feeling off, but it didn't work because the second I walked in, they were there across the room near the rehab station.
Emily stood with her tablet in hand, explaining something. Her posture was straight, her tone was focused but animated in that subtle way she got when she cared about what she was saying. Dr. Cole was standing a little too close, listening like she was the most interesting thing in the room, which apparently she was.
I stopped walking, just standing in my spot for a few seconds just to take it all in. I didn't like this at all, but I moved anyway, crossing the room. I didn’t give myself time to think about it.
“I didn’t know you had time for social appointments.” The words came out sharper than I had intended.
Emily’s head snapped up. Her eyes landed on me immediately. There was surprise in them “Noah,” she said.
Her voice was controlled. Dr. Cole turned slightly, looking at me with a polite, measured expression. “Harris,” he said. “We were just discussing your progress.”
I nodded once. “Sounds productive.”
Emily frowned slightly. “We are being productive.”
“Sure,” I said. “Looks like it.”
Her eyes narrowed. That was the first crack. “You’re early,” she said.
“Practice ended early.”
“Good.” Her tone didn’t soften, it was professional and distant and I didn’t like that either.
I shifted my weight slightly, looking between them. “You always do your sessions with an audience now?” I asked.
Emily’s expression changed completely. I hit a nerve this time. “Dr. Cole is a senior resident,” she said. “He’s reviewing treatment approaches.”
“Of course he is.”
“Noah.”
“What?”
“This is not a problem.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You’re implying it.”
“I’m observing.”
“You’re being rude.”
Dr. Cole raised a hand slightly. “It’s fine,” he said calmly. “I was actually just leaving.”
Emily glanced at him. “You don’t have to-”
“It’s alright. We will continue this later.” His eyes flicked briefly to me like he understood something without needing it explained, which made it worse. “Emily,” he added, softer now. “Think about what we discussed.”
“I will.”
He nodded once before he left, like he hadn’t just been in the middle of something that suddenly felt way more complicated than it should have. The door closed behind him. The silence that filled the room was heavier now
Emily slowly turned to me. “What was that?”
I shrugged. “What was what?”
“That.” She gestured between us. “Your tone. Your comments.”
“I was asking a question.”
“No,” she said. “You weren’t.”
“I was.”
“You were being passive-aggressive.”
I leaned against the table. “Maybe I was curious.”
“About what?” She asked.
“About why my rehab session looks like a consultation.”
Her jaw tightened. “This is part of my work.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”
“You implied it.”
“I observed it.”
She exhaled sharply. “You don’t get to walk in here and act like that.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like you have a problem with who I talk to.”
I tilted my head slightly. “Do I?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Silence stretched between us, it was uncomfortable. “You don’t get to dictate who I talk to,” she said. She wasn't wrong about that.
“I’m not dictating anything.”
“Then what are you doing?” I hesitated. “Exactly,” she said quietly.
I pushed off the table. Running a hand through my hair. “I just-” I sighed, stopping myself from saying anything further because I didn’t have the right words, nothing I was about to say sounded reasonable in my head.
This reaction I couldn’t explain.This irritation that didn’t make sense. “You what?” she asked.
I looked at her. I didn’t see the composed, controlled version of her. I saw the frustration and confusion. Her shoulders were slightly tense, her eyes were searching mine for something I wasn’t giving.
“I didn’t like it,” I finally said.
Her brows pulled together. “Didn’t like what?”
“That.”
“That what?” She was growing impatient with me.
“You,” I said. “With him.”
The words hung in the air heavily. It was honest in a way I wasn’t used to being. Emily stared at me, processing and trying to understand. “Why?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. I didn't have the answer to that.
Her expression softened, but not in a good way. She saw something I didn’t want her to see. “That’s not good enough,” she said.
“I know.”
“Then figure it out.”
I exhaled slowly, frustration was building inside of me at myself because she was right. I should have been able to explain this. I shouldn’t have been reacting like this in the first place.
“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” I said. F^ck, those words just slipped out before I could stop them.
Emily blinked, she was taken aback, stunned. “What?”
“He looks at you like-” I stopped myself.
Like you matter, like you’re worth something, like he sees you.
I swallowed. “Like he’s interested.”
Her expression changed again to disbelief. “He’s a mentor,” she said.
“He’s a guy.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is when he looks at you like that.”
She shook her head. “You’re projecting.”
“Am I?” I asked.
“Yes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then why does it bother you that I said it?”
“It doesn’t.”
“It does." Her voice sharpened. “Noah.”
“What?”
“This is not your concern.” She was drawing a line. I deserved that.
“I know,” I said quietly.
The admission surprised both of us. Emily’s expression softened slightly, but the tension didn’t disappear. “Then stop acting like it is,” she said.
I nodded once, but I didn't move because something had already changed. Something I couldn’t undo. The truth was that it wasn't about my ego or anything else, it was something personal.
“I didn’t like seeing you with him,” I said again, but softer this time.
Emily didn’t respond immediately, she just watched me carefully, like she was trying to understand something deeper than the words, maybe she did because her expression had shifted again. She was uncertain.
Finally, she looked away. “We have a session,” she said. Her voice steadier now, back to being professional.
“Right,” I said.
She stepped closer, back into the routine and structure, but it didn’t feel the same. Everything felt different now. Every movement and adjustment, and every contact all carried something else beneath it. And as she guided my arm through the first exercise, her hand was steady. Her touch was precise, I realized something I couldn’t ignore anymore. I didn’t like seeing her with him, which means I cared. That was going to be a problem.