Page 174 of Chasing Infinity

“Okay. Let’s do it then,” I say, steeling myself. “I guess I do have a question, actually. How did your mom get involved with this all in the first place?”

Noah leans over until his elbows are resting on his knees. He looks at me solemnly. “Once I started working on this case, I knew I had to get my mom out of there. Until then, I had known that my father was bad, but notthat bad, you know? But after you find something horrible like that, there’s no going back.”

“So you told her everything?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, I couldn’t, really. It was mostly confidential. I did find a loophole, though. I told her just enough so she could go snooping in the right areas to find out what she needed to know—that’s what her little side comment was earlier. She still isn’t fully clued in either.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

Noah takes in a deep breath and steels me with a heavy gaze. “Because we’re to the point where it’s a detriment to your safety if I don’t, and that’s not something I’m not willing to risk. Also, to be perfectly frank, I fully intend to marry you one day, Addison Parks, and I don’t want to start our life together built on lies and half-truths.”

My mouth goes dry, and my eyes widen. Noah observes my face for a second as if gauging my reaction. He then doesn’t waste any more time before jumping back into his story. “Once my mother knew just how bad my father was, she agreed that she needed to get out of there, but then the issue ofhersafety came up. My father barely paid attention to my mother on a good day, but he’s the type of man that would never allow her to leave him.”

“All about appearances,” I mutter, and Noah agrees.

“Exactly. He would never allow her to embarrass him by leaving. Even if she ran away, he would have found her. So then that introduced the conflict of getting her out of there. I pulled some strings with the FBI, and she agreed to change her name and let Catherine McCoy die. She’s not employed by the government but is associated with my department, kind of like an independent contractor. As far as the legal system is concerned, her name is Giselle Carmichael, and she’s the founder of Carmichael House.”

“And she lets women come here?”

“Yes, women rescued from the system are always given the option to come here until they can get their feet on the ground. It’s a hard transition for many women, and this place allows them the time to figure out their next step.”

I watch Noah’s face as he explains what all he and his mother are doing. His expression takes on this determined look as he speaks, and I can tell this is something that is very important to him. He is proud of this aspect of his work.

“I think that’s really amazing, Noah,” I tell him. “I love that you and your mother have found a way to help these people heal from what you’re father has done to them.”

He chuckles humorlessly and rubs at the back of his neck. “And somehow, it’s still not enough. I feel like no matter what I do, I’ll always be paying for the sins of the father.”

“I don’t think so. You don’t have to repent for all the evil he’s done. You had no part in it.”

“Maybe not,” he acquiesces, but I feel he doesn’t mean it. “But it’s still on my shoulders for now, and it will stay there until I can see him rot in jail.”

“I wish there was more that I could do,” I say.

Noah shakes his head. “I don’t. I want you as far away from all of this as I possibly can. Which I know seems ridiculous when I brought you right into the heart of it. But I don’t want this to plague you like it does me.”

I reach over and take Noah’s hand, threading our fingers together. “We’re a team, Noah.”

I don’t say anything more, letting my words hit home. Noah looks up at me, his eyes heavy as he traces the features of my face. He exhales and squeezes my hands. Then he leans forward, closing the distance between us until our foreheads rest together. I close my eyes, letting the closeness of our connection surround me.

After what feels like a thousand heartbeats have passed, I finally speak. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a nap. It’s been a long day.”

It’s barely noon, but mentally I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. Noah pulls away from me and nods his head, not disagreeing. We walk over to the king bed on the other side of the cottage and pull back the covers. Noah climbs onto his side while I excuse myself to the bathroom to freshen up a bit.

I toss some cool water on my face and take a few deep breaths. Noah’s settled in bed when I step out of the bathroom. His eyes appear droopy as he watches me.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Noah mumbles, extending his arm and inviting me to lay with him. I crawl onto the bed, snuggling into his side. With an exhale, I press my cheek to the warm skin of his chest and close my eyes. “Are you still mad at me?” he asks in a low voice.

I shake my head against him. “No. It’s a lot to take in, though, and I’m still trying to process everything. I’m so tired.”

His hand rests against my head, his large fingers threading through the strands of my hair and rubbing my scalp muscles. I let out a happy sigh at the comforting movements and nuzzle closer to him.

Before I’m fully aware of what’s happening, I fall into a deep sleep. Hours later, I’m jolted awake by Noah’s phone ringing. He swears under his breath, untangling himself from me, and reaches for his phone. The cottage is dark now, and I wonder what time it is.

Noah answers his phone with a husky, “Yeah?” The person on the other end of the line says a few words, and then Noah sits up straight in bed, running his hand over his face. “Sure. Next week? Yup, I’ll be there, thank you.”

As soon as he hangs up the call, he drops his phone onto the comforter and leans back against the pillows with a groan. “Who was that?” I ask, resting my hand against his chest, my fingers stroking the fine hair scattered across his skin.

“Vincent,” he responds, and I pause. “He said the board wants to get together next week to discuss the next steps with my probation.”

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