Page 123 of His Greatest Muse

Tinsley doesn’t know that I don’t plan on letting her stick around after she’s played her part. She wouldn’t have agreed if she did. At the end, it will be me, Alec, and Cole.

“I need you to let me talk to them. Don’t say anything. Just go along with it,” I tell him.

He grips the end of the bed. “I don’t understand.”

“How badly do you want me to forgive you?”

“Noah . . .” He trails off, worry beginning to strain his features. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to tell them that I don’t know anything about why I was attacked. And then when they leave, you’re going to tell Mom and everyone else that I did the opposite. That the police are handling everything.”

“You want me to lie to them? To your mom?” he croaks.

“Yes. I do.”

I watch him think it over, struggling to agree blindly to my wants. He’s too honourable. It’s a trait he gave to my brother but not to me.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why you’re doing this?”

“No.”

“I can’t lose you, Noah. We couldn’t survive losing you.” So much sincerity rings in his words that it floods the room.

I double blink, surprised by the way his words flop heavily in my chest. “I’ll be fine.”

“You always are.”

“I want to trust you,” I admit, my throat tight. “If you do this, I will try to.”

Miraculously, that seems to be enough for him. A dip of his chin, and then I’m telling him to open the door for the cops, a dozen lies poised on the tip of my tongue.

45

TINSLEY

“We really needto find a different place to live,” I grumble, stepping through the doorway behind Noah.

It’s his first time home since the accident three days ago. We’re both on edge but excited to be out of the hospital. Stinking like disinfectant, I take in the lack of wandering eyes around us and relax the slightest bit. Josh and Sparks have been here the entire time we’ve been gone, and I’m grateful they were willing to do that for us. For me, especially.

If the house was full, Cole wouldn’t have come inside. He wouldn’t be waiting to ambush us the moment we opened the door. God, the thought of him here makes me feel ill. Thinking of himat allsparks that response.

With my emotions overloaded, I shut the door behind us and lock it, double-checking it’s actually locked before moving back to Noah’s side. He’s still weak and sore but, with permission from the doctor on shift this morning, has been healing well enough to go home. I’ve been like a fly in his ear since, unable to leave him be for all of five minutes.

“We will,” he replies.

Josh is passed out on his bed in nothing but a pair of boxers with his bedroom door wide open, and Sparks is out of sight. The living room is clean, and when we step into the kitchen, I notice it’s free of Josh’s usual mess as well.

“I was half expecting to find this place a disaster,” I say.

Noah watches silently as I pull open the fridge and find it full. I don’t think it’s ever been this stocked. Fruit, vegetables, milk, and juice. It’s obvious our parents have been here multiple times since we’ve been gone.

“My mother was here,” Noah notes.

“Both of our mothers were. Don’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”

“I’m not.”

I laugh when I spot my leftover birthday cake on the top rack, wrapped in cling wrap with a candle resting on top. “Fancy a piece of cake for lunch?”

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