Page 23 of Saving Noah

“Hmmm.”

“What’s that mean? Hmmm? Hmmm, what?” Zach demanded.

“Hmmm simply means I think it’s been a while since you’ve been clubbing. Old Zach would’ve recognized all those signals he sent your way.” Connor laughed. “New Zach just wanted to take his temperature and blood pressure.”

Zach flipped him off and started pacing nervously. He looked around his apartment and couldn’t help but take note of the stark differences between his place and Noah’s. They were identical in the set up and size, but the similarities ended there. Noah’s place, while spotless and functional, seemed dreary. No sunlight. No pictures. No…happiness.

His resolve to make Noah his strengthened. Maybe the end did justify the means? “So, how are we going to do this? He won’t open the door for me, and I doubt he’ll let you in either. What’s this devious plan you’ve got worked up in that sick head of yours?”

Connor grinned. “Trust me, babe. I’ve got this. You sent me a million texts about Noah last night. I know what it will take to get that front door open.” He waggled his eyebrows and added, “You’re on your own when it comes to getting the back door open.”

“You’re so disgusting. Tell me again why I’m friends with you.”

“More reasons than we have time to discuss right now, but I’ll go ahead and mention the two major ones: I can get you out of parking tickets and you really don’t have a lot of other friend candidates beating down your door. Now, before we go any further, we’ve got to talk about something serious,” Connor warned. “That shit I walked into this morning? You sitting outside his door like a lost puppy? Not okay, Zach. Don’t do that again. It makes you look creepy and desperate. At least have the dignity to hide inside your apartment and watch through the peephole, okay?”

“You’re such an ass.” Zach shook his head. “I’ve just dug my heart out of my chest and laid it on the kitchen table in front of you, but you’re still being a jackass. Just for the record, Conn, friend candidates aren’t beating down your door either.”

“And don’t say jackass. People don’t use that term anymore.” He rubbed his hands together with excitement. “Okay, for my brilliant plan, give me your cell.”

Zach handed it over but immediately felt like their chances of success dropped significantly. He was going tocallNoah? Yeah, that worked well last night.

“Perfect,” Connor said, typing something into Zach’s cell. “Denala! Come!”

Denala perked up one ear, looked in their direction, and then settled back in for a day nap. Day naps were important for new moms.

“She’s the dumbest police dog I’ve ever encountered,” Connor muttered. “I know for a fact she came from good breeding stock, yet she’s as worthless as the day is long.” He looked at Zach and added, “I think she’s gotten dumber since she came to live with you.”

Zach would have considered punching Connor for talking about his beloved dog the way he was, but he knew how much his friend loved Denala. When she’d struggled during her training, Connor had made it a point to keep a close watch on what the academy intended to do with her if she didn’t make the cut. He’d been terrified they would be afraid to adopt her out since she’d received police training. Connor had fought for Denala’s life by calling in every favor owed to him by anybody with influence and, eventually, gotten approval for Zach to adopt her.

*****

Noah stood under the spray of the shower and let the hot water massage his aching back. Maybe sleeping all night on the cold hard floor wasn’t the most brilliant plan he’d ever come up with. There wasn’t an inch on his body not cursing his stupidity. His body ached and his brain felt baked. Perfect. Another day in the life of John Fucking Doe.

When the water began to lose some of its heat, he soaped up, scrubbed everything that needed scrubbing, and rinsed off. Turning the taps off, he opened the shower door and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist. He stood in front of the vanity mirror and studied the face looking back at him. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes, and although he’d just started his day, he looked exhausted. It had been a tough night and an even tougher morning.

The sound of the elevator door opening out in the hallway had awakened him bright and early. At first, he’d just laid there, trying to figure out where he was, why he was there, and most importantly, whether he was going to be able to cope with either of those answers. He was on the floor in front of his door and he was there because he was a complete and utter idiot. Those were the answers; he wasn’t pleased with either of them, but they were what they were.

Events from the previous day floated through his mind with a clear precision he hadn’t felt in a while. A panic attack in the hallway. A trip to the emergency room…which led to another panic attack. Zach rescuing him and bringing him back home. Zach being nice to him instead of glaring at him like he normally did. Zach telling him he wanted them to explore a relationship together. His heart doing a happy dance. Dozing off for about twenty minutes with Denala wrapped in his arms. Waking up, not remembering the first fucking thing Zach said to him because of the cloudiness inside his head. Him hitting on Zach and Zach trying to slow things down. Then the biggie was him throwing a temper tantrum and locking Zach out of his apartment.

Yep, he recalled each and every delightful detail that morning…several hours too late. What a colossal fuck-up he was. He couldn’t imagine Zach wanting to give him a second chance after he’d locked him out for absolutely no reason whatsoever, but he planned to toss pride straight out the window and beg the man to forget everything that happened yesterday. He needed a do-over.

The problem was how to convince a person you weren’t crazy when every damned thing you did looked crazy? Crazy—Zach considered that a bad word. Noah needed to stop thinking it and definitely stop saying it.

After brushing his teeth, he went into his bedroom and dug around for some boxer briefs, sweatpants, and a tank top. When he eyed his selections for the day, he made a mental note to go online and order some clothes. Real clothes. Anything other than fucking sweatpants and tank tops. No, he hadn’t woken up that morning living under the misconception he would suddenly grow a pair of balls and find the courage to leave his apartment building, but he had woken up thinking the opportunity to get properly laid might be in his future.

Maybe.

A slight chance.

He felt weird and he was certain it had a hell of a lot to do with the fact he hadn’t taken any of his medication. Zach’s message said he couldn’t stop cold turkey and even he knew that wasn’t safe, but he didn’t want to take them anymore. Was there a chance his prescribed medication worked against his recovery? He’d never taken the time to research any of the side effects or check to see if they shouldn’t be mixed with each other. Why should he question what a doctor prescribed him?

Because the meds made him feel like shit? Because they made it virtually impossible for him to be able to shake the cobwebs out of his head? Because he was twenty-two and there was absolutely no reason for a man his age to take that many pills? Because it took an act of Congress or a miracle from God to get his dick hard?

Noah’s lips twitched. Zach made his dick hard.

Finally, he went back into the bathroom to pull out his basket of meds, settled on one pill but made a point to steer clear of the two Zach told him caused paranoia. Like he didn’t have enough paranoia in his life without encouraging more.

After swallowing the one pill, he went into the kitchen to find something to eat that might closely resemble healthy, struck out, and settled for a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. With his cereal bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, he paced the length of his living room, shoveling in a spoonful with each step. He needed to come up with some sort of plan to convince Zach to give him another chance. He could go with complete honesty and let him know sometimes he lost blocks of time and events.

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