Page 37
Story: Blind Justice
There was a moment of silence, heavy with his concern. “Where are you?”
“I made it back inside my apartment.” She sniffed some more.
“Do you have ice on it?”
“No.”
“Put some ice on it,” he said with a softness she hadn’t heard before.
“I…I’ll get some,” she stammered.
“I’m coming,” he said firmly. “I’ll be there within an hour. Sit tight and stay warm.”
“Thank you, Noah.” She made her way to her refrigerator. After grabbing a bag of frozen corn niblets, she sat on her couch.
True to his word, Noah arrived just under an hour later, his truck rumbling into the driveway. By then, Ruth was curled on her couch, cocooned in a blanket, her wrist poorly wrapped in a dish towel stuffed with the corn. Her boots were kicked off, her vanity a distant memory.
The door swung open, her keys left in the lock. There he was—his broad frame filling the doorway, his face set in that mixture of worry and exasperation she had come to know.
“I’ve got your keys.” He jingled them on his pinky finger, not waiting for her to rise.
He looked at her and shook his head. “Your shoes?”
“By the door.” Her lip started to wobble.
He grabbed her UGGs, avoiding the black heeled boots, and her coat. He returned to her side. Without a word, he crouched, slipping her feet into the boots. “I think I would have been a great shoe salesman.” He discarded the now defrosted corn and replaced them with a bag of peas. He grabbed her throw, and after wrapping her carefully in her coat, he scooped her up as though she weighed nothing.
“Noah, you don’t have to… I can walk.”
“Shh,” he interrupted. “We’re going to the ER.”
He carried her to his truck, his movements gentle but efficient. After settling her into the passenger seat, he buckled her in, his touch steadying despite the tension she could see in his jaw. Peas in place, he covered her in the throw. As he rounded the hood to the driver’s side, she leaned her head back.
Noah climbed in, giving her a sidelong glance. “You okay?”
She nodded, though tears welled up again. “I didn’t want to ruin tonight.”
“You didn’t,” he said simply. “Now let’s get you taken care of.”
As he drove, Ruth let herself relax, the adrenaline fading, replaced by a strange kind of calm.
The ride to the ER was quiet except for the faint whoosh of the heater and the crunch of snow under Noah’s tires. Ruth sat cradling her wrist, her anxiety bubbling just beneath the surface. She couldn’t stop thinking about Molly and Ethan’s party, the countdown, the laughter—and how she was ruining it all with her clumsiness.
“Noah,” she broke the silence, “I hate that I’m doing this to everyone tonight. Molly and Ethan are going all out for New Year’s. We have so much to celebrate: the baby, Izzy’s rescue.” She moved to swipe her tears and cried out in pain from her broken wrist. “I’ll bet the house looks amazing, and now…”
“Stop,” Noah cut in gently but firmly, glancing at her before returning his focus to the road. “You didn’t plan this, Ruth. And they’d want you to take care of yourself first. I’ll call Alex and let him know what’s going on. He can tell everyone.”
Ruth sighed but nodded, her chest tight with guilt. Noah expertly maneuvered the truck into the parking lot of Pierre’s emergency room, its brightly lit sign glowing against the winter night.
When he turned off the ignition, Ruth grabbed the door handle. “I’m walking in,” she insisted, her voice brooking no argument.
Noah raised an eyebrow but didn’t fight her. “Fine. But if you look like you’re about to keel over, I’m carrying you.”
The ER waiting room was packed, as she’d feared. Victims of what appeared to be the flu and a handful of early revelers with minor injuries sat slumped in uncomfortable plastic chairs, their New Year’s spirit visibly dampened. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glow over everything, making the room feel even more impersonal.
Ruth signed in with her good hand and took a seat with Noah at her side, his watchful presence like a protective shield. She caught sight of him in the harsh lighting, his dark jacket snug against his broad shoulders, his sharp jawline accentuated by the shadows. She couldn’t help but blurt out, “You look really handsome tonight.”
Noah chuckled, his lips curving into a warm, lopsided smile. “You’re one to talk. You look beautiful, minus the black boots. Those need a timeout until the ice melts.”
“I made it back inside my apartment.” She sniffed some more.
“Do you have ice on it?”
“No.”
“Put some ice on it,” he said with a softness she hadn’t heard before.
“I…I’ll get some,” she stammered.
“I’m coming,” he said firmly. “I’ll be there within an hour. Sit tight and stay warm.”
“Thank you, Noah.” She made her way to her refrigerator. After grabbing a bag of frozen corn niblets, she sat on her couch.
True to his word, Noah arrived just under an hour later, his truck rumbling into the driveway. By then, Ruth was curled on her couch, cocooned in a blanket, her wrist poorly wrapped in a dish towel stuffed with the corn. Her boots were kicked off, her vanity a distant memory.
The door swung open, her keys left in the lock. There he was—his broad frame filling the doorway, his face set in that mixture of worry and exasperation she had come to know.
“I’ve got your keys.” He jingled them on his pinky finger, not waiting for her to rise.
He looked at her and shook his head. “Your shoes?”
“By the door.” Her lip started to wobble.
He grabbed her UGGs, avoiding the black heeled boots, and her coat. He returned to her side. Without a word, he crouched, slipping her feet into the boots. “I think I would have been a great shoe salesman.” He discarded the now defrosted corn and replaced them with a bag of peas. He grabbed her throw, and after wrapping her carefully in her coat, he scooped her up as though she weighed nothing.
“Noah, you don’t have to… I can walk.”
“Shh,” he interrupted. “We’re going to the ER.”
He carried her to his truck, his movements gentle but efficient. After settling her into the passenger seat, he buckled her in, his touch steadying despite the tension she could see in his jaw. Peas in place, he covered her in the throw. As he rounded the hood to the driver’s side, she leaned her head back.
Noah climbed in, giving her a sidelong glance. “You okay?”
She nodded, though tears welled up again. “I didn’t want to ruin tonight.”
“You didn’t,” he said simply. “Now let’s get you taken care of.”
As he drove, Ruth let herself relax, the adrenaline fading, replaced by a strange kind of calm.
The ride to the ER was quiet except for the faint whoosh of the heater and the crunch of snow under Noah’s tires. Ruth sat cradling her wrist, her anxiety bubbling just beneath the surface. She couldn’t stop thinking about Molly and Ethan’s party, the countdown, the laughter—and how she was ruining it all with her clumsiness.
“Noah,” she broke the silence, “I hate that I’m doing this to everyone tonight. Molly and Ethan are going all out for New Year’s. We have so much to celebrate: the baby, Izzy’s rescue.” She moved to swipe her tears and cried out in pain from her broken wrist. “I’ll bet the house looks amazing, and now…”
“Stop,” Noah cut in gently but firmly, glancing at her before returning his focus to the road. “You didn’t plan this, Ruth. And they’d want you to take care of yourself first. I’ll call Alex and let him know what’s going on. He can tell everyone.”
Ruth sighed but nodded, her chest tight with guilt. Noah expertly maneuvered the truck into the parking lot of Pierre’s emergency room, its brightly lit sign glowing against the winter night.
When he turned off the ignition, Ruth grabbed the door handle. “I’m walking in,” she insisted, her voice brooking no argument.
Noah raised an eyebrow but didn’t fight her. “Fine. But if you look like you’re about to keel over, I’m carrying you.”
The ER waiting room was packed, as she’d feared. Victims of what appeared to be the flu and a handful of early revelers with minor injuries sat slumped in uncomfortable plastic chairs, their New Year’s spirit visibly dampened. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glow over everything, making the room feel even more impersonal.
Ruth signed in with her good hand and took a seat with Noah at her side, his watchful presence like a protective shield. She caught sight of him in the harsh lighting, his dark jacket snug against his broad shoulders, his sharp jawline accentuated by the shadows. She couldn’t help but blurt out, “You look really handsome tonight.”
Noah chuckled, his lips curving into a warm, lopsided smile. “You’re one to talk. You look beautiful, minus the black boots. Those need a timeout until the ice melts.”
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