Page 33 of Saving Noah

Chapter 9

Noah gazed into his bathroom mirror, trying to determine if there was any difference in his physical appearance, because there was a huge difference with what was going on inside him. He’d started to live again. He was living, breathing, laughing, and God forbid, loving. He was falling in love with a man he questioned would ever be capable of giving his whole self to another person, especially a person like Noah. Loving Zach was dangerous, would probably end up on the south side of happy, and could very well be one of the most frustrating things he’d ever done. None of that mattered though. Once love’s freight train started rolling and picking up speed, it couldn’t be stopped. He’d simply have to enjoy the ride until he fell off and it ran him over.

It’d been one week since Zach and Connor pulled their little stunt to sneak Zach into his apartment. One week for Zach to turn his sad life inside out, upside down, and topsy-turvy. Seven days of living out his fantasies. To say Dr. Zachary Meadows was very inventive when it came to sex would be the understatement of Noah’s lifetime. The man was kinky and vanilla, rough and gentle, and sometimes just flat-out fucking-fun-weird. Being trapped in his apartment building for three years had apparently turned Noah into a top-level pervert, because Zach hadn’t been able to come up with one thing Noah hadn’t thoroughly enjoyed. Perversion was fun; he could live the remainder of his life fully immersed in Perversionville.

Besides the scorching, satisfying sex, Noah felt like they were connecting on different levels, too. At least he hoped they were. He was. Again, Zach’s feelings were still in question. The man loved to have fun and fuck Noah’s ass into the mattress, but he became guarded when their time together turned toward personal topics—like his past, his parents, where he grew up, or what kind of rebellious teenager he’d been. Noah knew practically nothing. What closed up Zach faster than a Venus flytrap on its prey was when Noah asked about his tattoos. Noah loved them. Apparently, Zach hated them.

Zach had infinite patience to listen as Noah rattled off nonsense about his childhood, his high school years, his colossal fuckup with Moretti, and his meltdown afterward. Zach was inquisitive, sympathetic, protective, empathetic, and would get righteously angry when Moretti’s or Cameron’s names were brought up. He was a great listener, but a horrible talker. He shared nothing.

Noah wanted something.

Anything.

Toss him a crumb, for heaven sake.

Zach knew Noah inside and out,literally, but Noah had only learned what Zach liked in the bedroom, what his favorite beer was, and that the man was a little over-the-top when it came to protecting those he felt couldn’t protect themselves. Yeah, that worried Noah. What if Zach was only hanging around, sucking the love from his heart little by little, because he felt like Noah needed protection? As much as Noah would like to laugh that off and tell himself the possibility didn’t really exist, he couldn’t; there was too much evidence to prove otherwise: the new doctor Zach hooked him up with; the fact he’d tossed all of Noah’s junk food and tried daily to convince him to eat healthier; he had Connor reviewing the entire security system in the apartment complex; and he quizzed Noah each day on things to do if anything triggered a panic attack. The list could go on and on. The bottom line was Zach was focused on keeping him healthy and safe. Was that all that drew Zach to him though?

He hoped not. He prayed it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

Fucking him until he couldn’t walk straight didn’t fit into protecting Noah. Did it?

He shook his head, disgusted with the way his mind worked. For the first time in a long time, he had a good thing going and his warped little mind tried to convince him it really wasn’t that good. Zach wasn’t that into him. How could he believe someone like Zach could fall for someone like Noah? That shit played on a loop inside his brain when Zach went to work and left him alone. When Zach was there, Noah was strong; when Zach left, he turned weaker than a tiny kitten abandoned by its mother.

He looked down at his watch, a gift from Zach yesterday, and counted the hours left before Zach would get home. Three hours. He only had to push this shit out of his head for three more hours. He could do this. Fuck, he needed his pills back. Dr. Livingston, aka Dr. Fuck-Noah-Over, had cut out every pill he took with the exception of two of them—the Xanax and Paxil. Rumor had it the good doctor planned to wean him off one of those sometime during the next three months. His body quivered in rebellion at the thought of it.

Three hours. Three hours. Three hours.

Okay, he knew what heshoulddo. The doctor had given him homework, and since his next appointment was two days away and he hadn’t done the first damned thing the doctor had requested, he should at least try to help himself. He did have three hours to kill.

Three long hours.

Three lonely hours.

When had being alone started being lonely again? When he’d first started allowing his anxiety to control his life, aka agoraphobia, he’d been lonely—so fucking lonely. He’d cried like a child and cussed like a sailor, both angry and horrified by his own weakness but unable to be brave enough or strong enough to overcome his anxieties, and then he’d finally accepted what he was—a coward. Once acceptance had taken place and all urges to leave his safety zone diminished, he’d become less and less lonely and more and more of a hermit. People bothered him; they made him uncomfortable.

Theyscaredhim.

Being alone had been…tolerable. Feeling lonely had become a rarity.

Until Zachary Meadows.

Now, thanks to the gorgeous bastard, he was back to being lonely. Time used to mean nothing; now he counted down the hours until he would see Zach. This wasn’t healthy. His new doctor had already given him the over-the-eyeglasses look of dismay when he’d inadvertently mentioned Zach about twenty times during the first fifteen minutes of their first session. No more talking about Zach to his doctor or Zach might end up where his beloved pills had. If that happened, he would have to kill the doctor, and if he needed to kill the doctor, he would have to figure out a way to get rid of the body. That would be tough since Noah was unable to leave the apartment complex.

So, he couldn’t mention Zach’s name anymore.

It probably wouldn’t hurt if he did some of the stupid homework, too. He could mesmerize the doctor with his homework skills to distract him from the Zach dependency dilemma.

“Shit, John Doe, if the doctor and Zach could hear your stupid mental conversations, they’d realize trying to help you was out of the question,” he said out loud. Shaking his head in disgust, he went into the bedroom and dug around in the drawers for something to wear. “You’ve got to order some real clothes, dude. Zach has to be getting tired of your pathetic display of workout clothes.”

After dressing, he meandered into the living room and went to his desk to dig out paper and pen. He was supposed to make a list of all the things causing his panic attacks and why he thought those things turned him from man to mouse in one point zero seconds. Grabbing the notepad, he said, “Ha! I probably don’t have enough paper to write down the entire list.”

“Stop talking to yourself, dumbass,” he said in an entirely different voice, acting like a total idiot.You aren’t really crazy when you know you’re being crazy, right?

He frowned as he looked at his desk. Why was his laptop open? Had he left his laptop open? He never did.

He must have.

He refused to even contemplate any other possibility.This is my safe zone.

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