Page 48

3 months later

I t’s been two months since I’ve seen my neurologist and the first thing he says to me as I take my seat is, “I saw your boy on ESPN last night. Fastest rookie to reach twenty points in B’s history. You must be proud.” Doctor Wilhelm Van Orin smirks over his laptop screen, typing so fast I can’t imagine it’s anything I would recognize as English. “I’ve seen a few of his games and can’t help cheering along. Even when I hate Boston more than anything.”

I’ve learned a lot about hockey over the last few months, how could I not when he is brought up in of my social interactions, but exactly why Boston is so despised remains a mystery. “Proud doesn’t come close to describing how I feel. He’s amazing—”

“Who’s amazing?”

I spin in my chair and there he is, my Noah, leaning against the door frame, dressed to the nines in a dark navy suit with a crisp white shirt that stretches over his ever-expanding chest.

An embarrassing squeal escapes and I leap from my chair into his waiting, open arms. “What are you doing here? I thought your flight didn’t come in till five.”

“It doesn’t. Coach Morris let me take an earlier flight so I could be here.” I send a silent prayer to Morris, the man acting as caretaker coach of Boston until the season ends and Coach Cole is free of his duties in Tampa. Noah, who’s had a two week away game streak, continues to mutter but I pay less attention to his words and more to the way they are muffled. Wedged in the grove between my neck and shoulders, his face is squished and he inhales so deeply my flesh must be close to being sucked up his nose.

I love it.

“Pleasure to see you again, Noah, even if you did play a large part in annihilating my beloved New York last night.” The doctor’s mockery reminds us where we are and we reluctantly break apart. Not before Noah steals a dozen or so kisses, though.

“Good to see you too, Doc.” He smirks, accepts the doctor’s outstretched hand, and undoubtedly squeezes too hard. “Thanks for pushing Lotte’s appointment back. I’d never have gotten here otherwise.”

Eyes wide in disbelief, my head swivels between the two smug faces. “What? You’re the reason I had to wait in the coffee shop for two hours, drink two lattes, eat three donuts, and a—”

Noah leans in and shuts me up with a kiss.“Yep, I called this morning and the good doctor did me a solid. I’m the reason you consumed a week’s worth of calories.”

I’m not really angry, but knowing Noah enjoys and misses my sass on these extended road trips, I cross my arms and pout. “Oh, we’re that influential now, are we? One call and we can stop time itself. And if you couldn’t tell, by we I mean you.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m basically famous, little one. Gotta make hay while the sun shines.”

“I’m not sure that analogy is apt, but okay.” With a huff I slump into my seat. Noah pulls his closer, then sits beside me, taking my hand in his, and caressing my scarred fingers. He’s so close the outside of his thigh brushes mine and the same energy that pulsed between us on first touch sparks.

I want to clear the desk and have my way with him right now, after all, it’s been two weeks since he’s touched me and that thigh has me worked up.

This appointment can’t be over fast enough.

“So, Lotte, I’ve reviewed your blood work and your second EEG looks just as the first did, no epileptic activity present.” Closing his laptop, he leans back in his chair and taps his pen against the armrest. It’s beyond annoying and I have to hold myself from reaching over the desk, snatching, and piffing it across the room. “How are you finding the meds?”

On my last appointment, I was prescribed medication for the first time, not only for my Tourette’s but for the ADHD I’ve also been diagnosed with. “Mostly good. I spent the first week sleeping or dreaming about sleeping, and despite just mentioning eating half the coffee shop, I find my appetite has been slightly suppressed. Other than that, it’s been fine.”

Finally dropping the damn pen, he leans forward and rests both elbows on the desk. “We want better than fine, Lotte, but I’ll take it for now. Now, I notice you didn’t mention the tics. Have you seen any reduction?”

Knowing it’s something I’m desperately impatient for, Noah squeezes my hand. “I have a little, but I’m not sure if that’s the drugs or because I’m sleeping better.”

“Hopefully it’s both. More sleep often equals less anxiousness and hopefully less tics. It’s not uncommon to see little improvements in the first few months, so if you agree, let’s give it another month or two, and review it then.”

“Sounds great.”

We run over a few more results and after answering questions from both Noah and I, Doctor V stands and again reaches out to shake our hands. I wince through it, while Noah again takes the opportunity to prove his manhood and crack some bones. Thankfully the doc’s not a surgeon.

Goodbyes are exchanged and we’re halfway out the door when we’re stopped.

“Lotte, I forgot to ask. When you were here last time you mentioned switching majors to resume Neuropsychology. Is that still the plan?”

“Yes, it is, and I have last month.”

“And have you secured an internship?” My stomach clenches. Internships in the field are notoriously hard to come by and a student that can hardly keep her eyes open is hardly a sought after candidate.

“Not yet, no, but—”

“But we have plenty of time, don’t we Lotte.” Noah adds, pulling me into his side again.

“Sure. Plenty of time.” I’m not as certain as Noah, but now if not the time to have yet another breakdown over this. I feel so far behind rejoining mid semester has been more difficult than I imagined and the majority of students have already secured places.

“I may be able to help you with that. My husband is originally from Boston and he’s keen to come home to care for his parents. I’m up for the change myself, and have decided to move my practice to Chestnut Hill. It’s only a block or two from your college and I know you’re still not driving so …” He pauses, looking nervous as he glances between Noah and I. “Would that be something you’re interested in?”

“Are you asking if I would be your intern?”

“At the risk of offending your very large, very strong boyfriend, yes. That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“Even with the Tourette’s and the ADHD and the … weirdness?”

Hating when I call myself weird, Noah shifts uncomfortably beside me, but Dr. Van Orin’s face blooms into a smile.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, Lotte, but I myself am a weirdo with ADHD and Tourette’s and that is the very reason I’m asking. Well, that and the fact that you’re a barista. I really do love coffee. All in all, there’s no other student in Boston I want at my clinic. What do you say?”

“Yes!” I squeal like a pig jumping way too close to his face. “I say, yes.”

Parked in the lot at the rear of the hospital, Noah and I make out in the car for a good twenty minutes before he palms the erection straining against his zipper and starts his brand-new Jeep. “You hungry, Little D. Want to stop and pick up some food?”

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I take in the flexing of his exposed forearms. I’ve got three days of Noah before he’s on the road again and I intend on spending a large chunk of that time naked. “Yes, Captain. I am very hungry. Just not for something we can get in a drive thru.”

A rumbly, grumbly chuckle does nothing to quell my desire. “Why Miss West. Are you trying to seduce me?” I reach over and walk my fingers up his thigh, stopping dangerously close to that bulge.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Could say that, yeah.”

I’m contemplating popping my road head cherry when I’m distracted by my driver making a wrong turn. “Why are you going down Commonwealth?”

Noah tried as fails to conceal a smirk. “Just felt like taking a drive.”

Shit, did I say the road head thing out loud? “You’re packing a boner that could take down the Titanic and you want to ‘take a drive’?”

“Sure. It’s a nice night and Noah junior’s been waiting two weeks. An hour or two isn’t going to kill him.”

“An hour or two? Noah, what’s going on.” Rancid bile rises in my throat. Sure, he’s turned on but what if that’s just a biological response to me sucking on his neck for twenty minutes? What if he’s gone off me? What if he’s found someone else. In silence, my spiral continues, only halting when the Jeep pulls out of traffic, into a tree lined slipway and then a private parking garage.

“I know I’ve said what a lot in the last few minutes, but Noah, what are we doing here?”

“It’s a surprise.” He nods before opening the door and leaping to the pavement. Looking frustratingly nonplussed, he trots around to my side and opens the passenger door.

“Thank you,” I mutter, “but I repeat what the heck. This looks like private property? Do you know someone who lives here?”

“I do. You’re looking at him. And if you look in that window,” he points to the large bay window of the gorgeous Brownstone. “You’ll see who else lives here.”

“You… what?” Tears of confusion are gathering and threatening to spill, but I do as he asks and step closer. The blinds are open, but other than a large and beautiful chandelier lighting the interior, all I can see is a sad and scared reflection. “All I see is me.”

“And all I see is you. And it’s perfect.” I turn from the window and find Noah, equally emotional with a key dangling from his still extended finger. “This is a condo, duh, obviously idiot.” He blushes. “It’s my condo, but I want it to be ours. You’re everything to me, Lotte. Being away from you has only cemented how much I love you. There’s a garden, one you can plant as much Indigofera as you like in, and I’ve already spoken to Quinn and she can take the upstairs bedroom so you won’t be alone, cause I never want you to be alone again. So, I guess what I’m asking is … Will you move in with me, Little D? Will you make this place our home?”

A montage of my life in my Gran’s little apartment plays before my eyes. Mom and I coming over for Sunday dinner. Laughing as we shelled peas and watched the Golden Girls. Mom and I moving in when she got sick. Coming home from the hospital after she died. Marty driving me home after Gran died. There’s been so much loss there. But so much love, too. I can’t imagine coming home, opening my front door and not seeing our mural.

Still. This place looks awful big. That means a lot of barren walls.

“Our home. That sure has a nice ring to it, Captain.”

Noah wipes the tears from his cheeks, then cleans mine, humming while blessing me with what feels like a thousand delicate kisses, so soft I could mistake each one for the caress of butterfly wings. Once satisfied he has them all, he reaches into his pocket and drops to one knee. “Speaking of rings, I have something else to ask you.”

THE END.