Page 103 of Outdrawn

She blinked slowly, like she didn't understand my words. "I was asleep."

"At nine AM?" I frowned. "On a Monday."

"I…I…" Her breathing became more labored.

"Hey, it's okay." I shook my head. "Come on, let's go inside. We can talk inside."

She led the way up the stairs. I noticed how she kept one hand against her chest during the whole ascent. At the top of the stairs, I reached for it, only to be pulled away from.

"It's your hand," I whispered.

She couldn't bring herself to answer verbally—I got a nod before she looked away, mouth twisted in embarrassment.

"I meant to call out today, but my alarm must have not gone off," she explained. "And I took something to help me sleep because I couldn't sleep all night. The medicine must have kept me under through the calls."

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

She blinked a few times, trying to gather her words. "It's bad, Sage."

My stomach dropped at the fear in her eyes. "Let me see?"

Noah shook her head and almost stumbled back. I held up my hands in the hopes she wouldn't be so afraid. The look on her face killed me: wide-eyed and shaking. The whole time, she wouldn’t move her hand.

“You can’t touch it,” she said in a firm voice.

“Noah…”

“You can’t. I barely can. Every time I move, the pain is almost blinding. The medicine helped at first. At least, I thought it did and would, but when I woke up, it was worse than before."

"That's because you weren't treating it," I said in the calmest tone I could muster. I didn't want her to think I was judging her. "You were numbing it."

"I think…I fucked it up, Sage. I should have told you sooner. I should have stopped sooner."

Her eyes were teary, and I wanted to pull her into me so badly.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I needed to finish everything. I needed to prove it to myself and everyone else." She laughed dryly, only to stop when the movement jostled her hand. "You already come to the rescue with your family. My family always rescues me. I wanted to do something for myself, to win this competition and launch Leisah, to finally prove that all the time I spent was worth it. Prove that I'm worth it."

"Noah, I've never seen helping you as coming to your rescue," I said. "Because you do nothing but try to come up with solutions yourself. Ever since you've come to Harpy, you've been solving problems on your own. Problems I could never have solved. Regardless of the competition or Leisah, the time you put in matters. You are worth it, with or without the art."

I inched closer, more cautious this time.

"I wanted to be good," she said without any strength left in her voice. "I wanted to finish strong. If my damn hand held on a little longer, everything would have been fine. There was only one more chapter until the competition ended. I was almost done, but I can't even pick up a pen without feeling like I'm going to throw up."

"You are not picking up a pen until we see a doctor." I was close enough to hold her face—she was burning up. I didn’t know if it was from her anger, anxiety, or something connected to the pain in her hand, but whatever it was, we needed to figure it out soon.

"I need to take something else," she said. "It's been long enough that I can. After that, I'll tape my hand up and see how it feels to hold something."

"No," I said firmly. "You're potentially going to injure yourself permanently. You're not going to keep pushing yourself, thinking it's the only way. Noah, you've done enough. You have and always will be enough, with or without the win. Without Harpy. Without me."

Her eyes widened. "I don't want to be without you."

I smiled and nodded. "Me either, and that's why we're done trying to give everything. We're going to start asking for help. Together."

Her eyes softened—there was relief for her in my permission. I'd familiarized myself with the feeling, and to be able to pass it on to her made me so happy.

"Where are your keys?" I asked. "We'll take your car to the hospital."

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