Noah’s being nice to me. It’s something I’d enjoy if I didn’t feel so tired. He drove us back home and refused to let me go to my house. Instead, he ushered me into his home, locked the doors and demanded I nap while he and Ryan made supper. I tried to argue, but it didn’t help and he did point out that I was safer with him and Ryan than I would be on my own.

That makes sense to me, and it’s been so long now that I fully expect that Tony has called my brother, which means he will send reinforcements. All of that means that I need to leave soon, but it’d be smarter to leave tonight, under the cover of darkness. With that in mind, I let myself fall off to sleep.

I don’t know how long it has been, but I know I come awake with Noah, brushing my hair out of my face. I try to focus on him, for a minute confused as to where I am. Then my body goes solid and I jerk up, looking around the room. It’s just Noah here, there’s no sign of Ryan.

“Where’s Ryan?” I ask, my voice sounding a little hoarse, sleep still thick in it.

“He’s in bed, Gorgeous.”

“What? Is he sick?” I ask sitting up.

Noah scoots back as I swing my legs around. He’s squatted down on his knees, so his face is just a little down from mine and his hands are braced on each side of my hips.

“It’s his bedtime, Rory. It’s eight thirty at night,” he says gently and shock moves through me. I’ve been asleep for over four hours.

How did that happen?

“I… I need to get moving,” I tell him, frantically. I’m losing time. My brother will have henchmen half way here already and he would have made sure that Tony has made bail. I’ll have to race to get out of town…

“No, Rory. You don’t need to leave this house.”

“Noah, I have things I need to do and I’m sure you’re tired. I’ve caused you enough problems—”

“You do have stuff you need to do. You need to eat,” he states matter-of-factly.

I frown.

“I’ll grab something at the house,” I lie. I’ll have to eat on the road, I don’t have time to worry about it now.

“Gorgeous, you’re not running.”

“Noah—”

He applies pressure against my legs, his fingers biting into the flesh. I immediately look at him and his face is serious, but it also has a tenderness to it that I haven’t seen before.

“You’re not packing up and leaving, Rory.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t lie to me, Rory.”

My breath lodges in my chest and I tense. I start to deny it, but what’s the point.

“I have to leave, Noah. I don’t have a choice.”

“You bought a house, Rory. You have a job, and you’ve applied for another… You have a life here.”

“I’ll have nothing here once my brother and Tony get done,” I tell him, my voice so quiet I have no idea if he can hear me, but the truth is I don’t like saying Tony’s name. Just uttering it makes me queasy.

“Tony’s your husband,” he says and I jerk like he hit me, I can’t stop myself.

“I’m not married,” I insist, my voice tight and maybe a little too loud.

“He said you were his wife,” Noah responds watching me closely.

“I would never marry him!”

“Rory, it’s okay—”

“Noah, he’s not my husband. He’s a sick bastard who won’t leave me alone. He thinks he owns me.”

“Why would he think that?” Noah asks and I get that he doesn’t know me, but his questions are starting to piss me off.

“Why would a crazy man ever think anything? I don’t know,” I growl, standing up. I walk a few steps away and turn back around to face him. He’s standing up now too and he’s watching me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, I’m not able to read his face, but now I’m too upset to care. “We lived together for almost two years. I was in hell almost all of those two years, Noah.”

“Rory, sweetheart,” he says softly, but I don’t let him finish. I need to get this out. It’s not something I’ve been able to talk about with anyone—mostly because I truthfully don’t have anyone to confide in. No one really gives a damn about me—except Tony and my brother, but that’s not about caring… not even close.

“When I say hell, Noah, I mean hell. I had no life. I had nothing unless my brother or Tony deemed I could have it.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” he asks and his question makes me nauseous. I swallow down the urge to hurl, but it’s not easy.

Why didn’t I leave? Noah’s question is so innocent but it’s not easy to answer—not even close.

“I tried, more than once, Noah.”

“Rory—”

“More than ten. Hell, maybe a hundred or more. I tried until I just wasn’t strong enough to keep trying. I was tired. My soul was tired. I was afraid of the pain that came when I tried and failed to break free.”

“Rory, baby—” Noah says, his voice soft. I ignore him. Right now, I’m so lost in my memories that I can barely feel his hand move along the side of my neck. Vaguely, I can feel his thumb sweep back and forth on my cheek, but even that feels dull to me.

“In the end, Tony was right. I am weak.”

“Bullshit,” Noah argues and this causes me to jerk out of my haze. “How did you finally get free?” he asks, and I start not to answer him. I sure as hell don’t want to, but something about Noah makes me want to tell him, maybe I’m seeking his acceptance. I don’t know. For whatever reason, I find myself opening up a little more to him.

“He asked me to marry him and I told him no. When I kept refusing he tried to talk me into it.”

“Talk you into it?”

“With his fists, at first. Later he got creative. I kept saying no. The last straw came when I told him I’d rather die than wear his ring. He thought he’d show me what dying felt like. I was in the hospital for two months,” I tell him and I don’t think it is my imagination that his hand shakes with my confession.

“Your brother didn’t do a damn thing to stop this?” Noah asks. He sounds like he can’t believe a brother would condone what happened to me. But then… he doesn’t know my brother.

“He sent me flowers in the hospital that had a get well soon card.”

“Jesus.”

“I have to go, Noah. He won’t stop until I’m dead. He was serious when he told me that if I wouldn’t marry him, he’d make sure no one else could claim me either.”

I stop there. I don’t want to tell him about my brother. I don’t want to tell him why Tony is so desperate to marry me. That’s a can of worms that I don’t need to open. I’ve unloaded enough.

Probably too much.

“You’ll stay here.”

“I can’t. I’ve been here too long. I should have left the minute they hauled him away.”

“Why didn’t you?” Noah asks.

“I… What do you mean?”

“I saw in your eyes that you were planning on running. You were practically broadcasting it. My question is why didn’t you leave the minute you had the opportunity.”

“Noah, I don’t have time—”

“Answer the question, Gorgeous,” he says quietly, his voice vibrating down inside of me.

“I had to make sure Ryan was okay and get you out of jail,” I tell him, completely confused.

“You took my back, despite how I treated you. You looked out for my son, even when most women would have run the minute they could.”

“They wouldn’t and I—”

“Sweetheart, they would. Trust me when I tell you that I know human nature. With the history you have, after that scene outside, they would have run fast and hard.”

“Noah—”

“And that’s even without the added incentive with the way I’ve treated you.”

“But—”

“You had my back, Gorgeous. Now, I’m going to have yours.”

“You… But, Noah, I can’t stay. It’s too dangerous.”

“If this guy is as unhinged as you say—and everything points to that being the truth—it’s too dangerous for you to leave. He’ll find you again and when he does I won’t be there if you run. So now it’s time for you to stay, knowing you have a man who will have your back.”

“Why would you do that?” I ask him, not understanding what’s going on and wondering if I’ve somehow broken away from reality.

“That’s a loaded question that we’ll save for another day,” he says, not really giving me an answer.

“It is?”

“It is,” he confirms. “For now, we’ll sit at the bar and you will eat some of the soup Ryan and I made and we’ll plan.”

“Plan what?” I ask, letting him take my hand and lead me to the bar that’s at the end of his kitchen.

“On how to get your life back,” Noah says and even though everything in me says it’s not possible, I sit down at the bar. I eat chicken soup out of a can and I do it thinking it’s the best chicken soup I’ve ever had and feeling something that I don’t think I’ve allowed myself to feel in a long time.

Hope.