Page 46 of Speed

The grin faltered, his expression softening. “For you?”

“Yeah,” I said, my chest tightening. “And that’s why this is so hard to explain.”

His brows furrowed, and he straightened in his seat. “Brody… is this us breaking up? Before we’ve even started?”

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees. “I just called you perfect.”

“That means nothing,” he said, his lips pushing into a pout. “Haven’t you ever seenLes Misérables? Darkest night, rising sun, right? Yeah, well, that’s what they say right before everything goes to hell.”

I let out a breathless laugh despite myself. “I don’t know how you madeLes Misérablessound so cheerful.”

He grinned again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Four years as a theater major—I’ve got range.”

I never knew that. How did I not know he was a theater major? Did I know him at all? The thought hit me like a sucker punch. We’d only been seeing each other for… shit… how long? Days? Weeks? Time blurred when it came to Noah. It was all tangled up in moments that meant too much, and was I making this more than it was? Why was I doing this? Why was I about to entrust him with everything? My biggest secret. My panic. My shame. My anger. All of it, raw and ugly and clawing at my insides. How did I begin to explain that I’d been carrying this weight for months, alone, terrified of what it might do to me—to my future? How could I lay it all at his feet and expect him to stay?

I buried my face in my hands, my chest tight. What the hell was wrong with me? This wasn’t who I was—this mess of insecurity and doubt. I was Brody Vance. I’d built a career on being fearless, taking risks, and coming out on top. But here I was, scared out of my damn mind, falling apart over the idea of letting Noah see the real me. What if he didn’t have half my feelings and hated what he saw? What if I ruined everything before it had a chance to start? What if…?

I pressed the heels of my hands harder into my eyes, trying to block out the spiral of thoughts threatening to drown me. What was I thinking, letting someone like Noah in? Letting him get so close? This wasn’t me. This wasn’t safe. But the truth was, I didn’t want to push him away. I didn’t want to run. For the first time in forever, I wanted to stay, try, and trust. And it scared the hell out of me.

“Brody?” He was there, perching on the small coffee table, his hands on my knees. “Brody?”

“I’m okay, I’m…” I pointed at his chair. “Get back there and put the ice on your leg.”

“You went white,” he murmured, but I met his gaze, and with a huff, he returned to his chair. I couldn’t do this if he was touching me.

I dropped my gaze to the floor. “Noah… I… there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning forward, mirroring my posture. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Have you been warned off coming out? Has someone found out and threatened you?”

His voice was steady as he suggested the worst he could think of at the moment, his gaze unwavering. My words stuck in my throat. I clenched my hands together, my fingers digging into my palms. He was still watching me, patient and open—everything I didn’t deserve.

“I’m scared,” I admitted, the words barely audible. “Not of you. Of this. Of what it might mean for us.”

“‘For us’?” he echoed, his voice quiet but warm.

I looked up at him, at how one wayward curl had escaped the band and rested on his forehead in a cute flick and how his eyes were soft with understanding. He was everything good that I didn’t know how to hold on to. But for him, I wanted to try.

“I have an aneurysm.”

The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. I hadn’t planned to say it—not like this, not here, not now—but it was too late to take them back.

Noah blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to concern in a heartbeat. “You have what?”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening as I forced myself to keep going. “An aneurysm. In my brain. It’s like a weak spot in one of the blood vessels, like a balloon that could burst with too much pressure.”

His lips parted, but he didn’t say anything, waiting for me to explain. I hated the concerned expression in his eyes, as if he were already putting me in a bubble.

“It’s small,” I said, my voice sharp and defensive. “Benign. It doesn’t cause me any issues. My doctor only found it because I totaled my car in Las Vegas and had to get an MRI. I wouldn’t know it was there if I hadn't crashed. He warned me that I couldn't drive,” I admitted, my hands clenching into fists against my thighs. “The doctors said the g-forces in racing could cause it to rupture. That’s the risk. If it ruptures, it’s… catastrophic. Fatal. So they told me to stop racing. They told me I couldn’t get back behind the wheel. That it wasn’t worth the chance.”

I took a shaky breath, hating the way my voice cracked.

“That’s why you retired?”

I nodded. “But it’s not like it’s doing anything right now. It’s just… sitting there in my head and not growing. Not changing. Just… there.”

Noah’s brow furrowed, his fingers gripping the armrest of his chair. “But it’s dangerous. Even if it’s small?”

“Not if I don’t do anything to trigger it,” I said quickly, my voice rising. “As long as I don’t do anything stupid, like strap into a Formula 1 car and push myself to the limit, it’s fine. They said I could live my whole life without it being a problem.”

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