You know what? I’ll go and quickly check on her. No harm in making sure she’s good, right? That’s what Ezra would do if he were in my place.
Right!
I convince myself that going back is the only logical answer. “Hey, Dan, could you keep an eye on my bag for me. I have to go and take care of something real quick. I’ll grab it on my wayback.”
He stretches his gloved hands out, uncertain about how restless I look. I extend my hand to give him the bag, yet hesitate to let go when he clasps it.
Should I really go?
Then, suddenly, an image of Andie wrapped around someone else invades my mind, and all doubts wash away.
“Fuck it!” With that, I dash away, zooming past the folks who have no idea who I am.
I cease right in front of the restaurant, hands on my hips, and chest heaving with anticipation, and not the energy I put in.
Turning my cap backwards and removing an invisible piece of lint, I bound the stairs two at a time.
I attempt to hide my nerves, but the commotion inside instantly dissipates any and everything I’d been feeling up until now and gives way to real hot anger. I’ve never wanted the first murder to be pardoned in literally any court of law as intensely as I want it in this moment when I see whoever the motherfucker is publicly spouting the highest level of bullshit at Andie.
The way she’s cowering, her shouldershunching, wishing she were anywhere but here, has me wanting to give my two cents to him. But then the asshat had to go try to physically hurt her, making me change my mind and give him more than just my words, sending me charging at him like an angry bull at a red flag.
Fuck, no! No one can hurt her—not while I’m still breathing.
Three
Noah
“Andie, wait! Andie…”
I rush after her, letting the actual waste of space ruminate in his misery on the floor in front of everyone in the establishment.
He deserves so much worse, but nothing can stop me from running after her, not when I know she’s trying her damnest not to cry.
The second she hears my voice, her steps quicken, and that alone is a pinch to my heart. Yet, I don’t let it deter me from following her.
Catching up to her on the sidewalk, I stand infront of her, halting her attempts to get away from me. I grab her shoulders and pull her towards me so that no passerby crashes into her.
When I look down at her as she stands so close to me, my heart just about thunders with the need to go back and end that motherfucker because how the fuck did he think he could bring her to tears, make her feel anything less than she is.
Her red eyes plead with me to move on from everything that had taken place. “Noah,” she chokes on a sob, her hand coming to cover it as her head drops between her shoulders.
If she says my name like that, I’d fall to my knees right here on the street. “What do you need?” I rasp, my voice hoarse from threatening the piece of shit.
Andie ponders for a minute and tilts her chin to look at me. “Make me forget, Noah,” she whispers, her voice akin to a siren singing the sailor to his ruination.
My heart thunders for an entirely different reason at her words, eyes bouncing between her blue ones—the ones that are usually so full of life, but now, there’s not even a hint of spark in them.
She drops her head again when I don’t respond. Not liking it when her eyes are not on me, I grasp her chin and make her look at me. A gasp falls out of her luscious lips—lips I desperately want to kiss, to taste.
NO, NOAH! She’s your best friend’s little sister.
That’s all she is. That’s all she’ll ever be.
“How?” I say so low, I’m surprised she hears the words.
Her brows pinch together as she thinks that through. Numerous possibilities dance in her eyes, and I wish I were a mind reader, at least when it came to her. Andie opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it, hesitation marring her features.
She gives her head the lightest of shakes and speaks, “I need to get drunk.”