Page 50 of Catching My Dreams

“I’m sure you did okay,” he offered. And then he did the strangest thing.

He took her hand in his and started walking. As though they were a happy couple going for a romantic stroll. As if he hadn’t admitted she’d crushed his adolescent heart only a day earlier. As if he hadn’t made a career out of hating her very vocally.

And Ella did the strangest thing in response.

She let him.

“So what now?” she asked. “We go back to my place, and you wait on me hand on foot while I watch Taylor Swift’s documentary?”

He let out a chuckle, the sound a deep rumbling that was unfairly attractive. “Sure, but we’re going to treat your neck first.”

She would have shaken her head if she’d been able. “I told you I can’t pay for anything.”

“You won’t have to. I called in a favor.”

Ella’s brows lowered. “What kind of favor?”

He shrugged. “The physical therapist here owes me.”

“I’m not a student-athlete, Noah. He can’t treat me.” She may have been a cheerleader, but their group didn’t compete in any competitions, so Georgetown didn’t consider them a sports team.

“Hence why I had to call in a favor.”

“And why does the physical therapist owe you a favor?”

“I may or may not have shown up a bit early for an appointment with him and caught him and his girlfriend having sex on the treatment table.”

“No,” Ella gasped, wide-eyed.

“Yes,” Noah replied with a wince.

“On the treatment table?”

He nodded. “I made Julian sanitize it three times before I agreed to lie down on it.”

“I would have gone for at least five.”

“Luckily for you, he got a new table recently. You should be safe.”

She cringed. “Unless he and his girlfriend decided to christen that table too.”

He let out a quiet hum. “True.”

Which is how the two of them ended up in the physical therapist’s room five minutes later, watching a red-faced man spray his treatment table with sanitizer.

“How did you injure the muscles?” he asked once Ella and Noah found his cleaning sufficient. “Noah said you’re a cheerleader, so I assume you hurt it doing that?”

Now Ella was the one with pink cheeks. “Not exactly. I was, well, I was sleeping, and when I woke up, it was like this.”

His brows lifted. “I’m guessing you’re carrying around a lot of stress and tension?”

About three truckloads worth, given the terror she faced every minute of every day, but Ella wasn’t there for that kind of therapy. “Just a bit.”

“What Ella is trying to say is that she probably doesn’t go a day without taking painkillers because her jaw, neck, or shoulders are killing her,” Noah explained.

Julian indicated for her to sit on the table. “You know, the world won’t end if your perfect GPA takes a small hit.”

Yes, but she would most definitely get hurt—or worse—if Brett decided to come after her, especially if he had a knife again. “I’m aware.”

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