Page 46 of Until Then

Noah smirks. “I basically need to grow a beard and get hair extensions, is all. Makeup makes me look about ten years older. I look bigger too, broader with all the fur cloaks and leather.”

“How do you move?”

“It took practice. But I got used to it. The battle scenes are hardest. Obviously we don’t use real swords, but they’re still pretty heavy. On my first season, I strained my rotator cuff for getting cocky with a sword and trying to spin it in one hand.”

I imagine a younger Noah thinking he’s invincible with his big sword and let out a small laugh. “So you did drama in high school, but I bet film is a lot more fun, right?”

He scrapes the sides of his ice cream cup. “Actually, if you want me to be honest, I really miss the stage.”

My brows rise. “Really?”

Noah doesn’t look at me but replies with a little hum and another bite.

“Are you embarrassed by it or something?”

“No.”

I huff. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m a theater junkie, we’re dramatic.”

“And excellent at avoiding questions.”

Noah places the cup on his knee and looks out the passenger window. “I’ve never told anyone, not even Rees. I think he senses it, but I’ve never said it out loud.”

“Oh, a dirty secret? Do tell. You have to now.”

The blue in his one eye gleams like starlight when he turns his head. “I don’t know if I want to keep doing this.”

“What? Our little scheme?”

“No. I’m still hopelessly devoted as your fake boyfriend, Wildfire.” Noah smiles down at his half-empty cup, swirling the ice cream into soup. “I mean . . . film. TV. I miss the intimacy of stage theater a lot. My agent is always trying to get me to take other roles, but, I don’t know, I just want to pick and choose what I do. I’m over the hustle and want to go back to doing it for the passion of it. Whether it’s doing indie films, stage plays, or even teaching.”

My heart swells. “You want to teach?”

Noah pops one shoulder. “I’ve really loved working with the kids in the outreach program. A few years ago, I was caught in a total fog, but getting involved in those after-school programs really pulled me out.”

There is something deliciously sexy about Noah Hayden cracking his chest a bit and letting me in. The fame isn’t what draws him to his job, it’s the passion of the story, the characters. Doubtless, those are the pieces he loves to share with younger generations.

“I hope you do what you want,” I whisper, meeting his gaze. “You’ve accomplished some amazing things, Pretty Boy. But you always deserve to do what you want in life. We only get one, after all.”

“Is that why you went into therapy?”

I nod and set my own cup on the console. “I took a peer tutor class in high school and became friends with a girl who was wheelchair bound. She taught me so much and told me she, too, loved riding horses. To be honest, I was surprised she was able, but I was only fourteen and a little ignorant. The more I learned about therapeutic ways to use horses, the more I had to do it.”

“Pretty cool, finding a passion so quickly.”

“So did you,” I say. “I don’t do everything on my own. A part time social worker comes sometimes and uses the horses for anxiety and behavioral disorders. Most of those clients don’t ever ride the horse; they simply spend time with them and absorb the energy.”

“And that works?”

“It’s amazing. There is something about brushing a horse that lifts the mood or slows the mind to break the spiraling thoughts.”

Noah turns in his chair so he can face me. “What do you do then?”

“The physical therapeutic riding is actually called hippotherapy. That’s where I specialize. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Noah’s head is cocked to one side, his face is soft, and he’s smiling. “Your eyes light up when you talk about your job. I like to see your spark.”

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