Chapter 31
Stella:
Noah took another spoonful of the soup, closing his eyes as if savoring a five-star meal. "This is seriously good," he said, looking up at me with genuine appreciation. "Like, restaurant-quality good."
"Don't exaggerate." I settled into the chair beside his bed, but I couldn't quite suppress the small smile tugging at my lips.
"I'm not." He gestured with his spoon. "The chicken is perfectly tender, the vegetables still have texture, and the seasoning is spot-on. You sure this is your first time making soup?"
Before I could respond, the door swung open and a nurse walked in, her expression brightening when she saw us. "Oh, sorry to interrupt," she said warmly, her gaze moving between Noah and me with obvious interest. "Just need to check your vitals, sweetheart."
She moved to the monitor, recording numbers while stealing glances at us. "It's so sweet that your girlfriend stayed to bring you homemade food. That's true love right there."
My face heated instantly. "Oh, I'm not—"
"She's amazing," Noah cut in smoothly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he looked at me. "I'm very lucky."
The nurse beamed. "You certainly are. Not many young women would go to this much trouble." She finished her readings and headed for the door. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. Call if you need anything."
The door clicked shut. I turned to Noah, my voice dropping to a hiss. "Why didn't you correct her?"
"Because it was easier than explaining the actual situation?" He took another bite of soup, completely unbothered. "What was I supposed to say? 'Actually, she's my professor who I have a complicated history with and she's only here because my sister guilted her into it'?"
"That's not—" I stopped myself, pressing my fingers to my temples. "Never mind."
We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the quiet scrape of his spoon against the container. Then Noah set it down, his expression shifting to something more serious.
"So," he said carefully. "About your research team."
I looked up. "What about it?"
"Am I still on it?" He met my gaze directly. "After this whole disaster, I mean. I'd understand if you wanted to replace me with someone more... reliable."
The vulnerability in his voice caught me off-guard. "You had an allergic reaction, Noah. That's not exactly a character flaw."
"But I'm going to miss the first meeting. And I haven't even started on the preliminary readings—"
"The first meeting isn't until next week," I interrupted. "And you're not the only one who hasn't finished the readings. Half the team is still catching up from midterms."
He relaxed slightly. "So I'm still in?"
"Yes. But you need to focus on recovering first." I pulled out my phone, checking my calendar.
"Right. The mental health break." He nodded. "I forgot they pushed everything back."
"Exactly. So stop worrying about falling behind and concentrate on getting better."
"Easier said than done." But some of the tension had left his shoulders. "Your opinion matters to me, you know. I don't want you to think I'm not taking this seriously."
Something warm flickered in my chest at his words, though I quickly suppressed it. "I know you're taking it seriously," I said, forcing my tone back to professional neutrality. "Which is why I'm holding you to the same standards as everyone else on the team."
"Fair enough."
I stood, gathering the empty soup container. "Get some rest. I'll be back in the morning with breakfast before they discharge you."
Noah studied me for a long moment. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For everything today. The soup, the clothes, staying here. I know this isn't how you wanted to spend your evening."
The sincerity in his voice caught me off-guard. "Just focus on recovering," I managed. "We'll figure out the rest later."
---
The next morning, I arrived at the hospital with a bag of plain bagels and cream cheese, only to find Noah already dressed in the Target clothes I'd brought, sitting on the edge of the bed with discharge papers in his lap.
"Someone's eager to leave," I observed from the doorway.
He looked up, his face brightening. "They're springing me early. Doctor did rounds at six and cleared me to go."
"Six in the morning?" I set down the breakfast bag. "You've been awake since then?"
"Couldn't sleep anyway." He stood carefully, testing his balance. "Too excited to get out of here."
"A free man who needs to follow strict dietary restrictions and take his medications on schedule." I moved into the room, eyeing the stack of papers. "Did they go over all the instructions?"
"Twice. I'm pretty sure the doctor thinks I'm an idiot." He gestured at the papers. "But yes, I know the drill. Bland foods, antihistamines every six hours, watch for any signs of secondary reaction."
"Good." I took the papers from him, scanning through them quickly. The discharge instructions were thorough, including a list of foods to avoid and warning signs to watch for.
My phone buzzed with a text from Zoe: Flight delayed AGAIN. Won't be back until tomorrow night. Thank you so much for doing this, Stel. I owe you everything.
I showed Noah the message. "Your sister's still stuck on the East Coast."
He grimaced. "She must be going crazy."
"She is." I pocketed my phone. "Ready to go?"
Noah grabbed the small bag of his belongings, then paused. "Did she give you the third degree yet?"
"About what?"
"About me staying with you." He glanced at me sideways. "She texted me this morning asking if I was 'behaving myself.'"
I felt heat creep up my neck. "She's just concerned about you."
"Right. Concerned." But he was smiling as we walked toward the elevator.
The drive to my apartment was quiet, Noah dozing in the passenger seat while I navigated through late-morning traffic. When we pulled into my building's underground garage, he stirred awake.
"We're here," I said softly.
He blinked, disoriented for a moment, then straightened. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pass out on you."
"You just got out of the hospital. You're allowed to be tired."
I helped him with his bag, and we took the elevator up to my floor. Inside my apartment, I showed him to the guest room. It was simple—a queen bed with white linens, a dresser, a reading chair by the window.
"This is nice," he said. "Really nice."
"The bathroom is across the hall. Fresh towels are in the cabinet. If you need anything—"
"Stella." He turned to face me. "I'll be fine. You can stop hovering."
"I'm not hovering."
"You are. And it's kind of adorable."
My face warmed. "Rest," I ordered, retreating toward the door. "I have work to catch up on."