That was exactly why she was in Anderson’s flat right now: she needed answers to the questions that plagued her mind.
“Me poor sasanach,” I mumbled to myself. “How can I make this better for ye?”
I already knew the answer. I couldn’t make any of this better for her. She had just found out Bailey had died – but what was worse, she now knew that the crash she was in was the same crash that killed my sister. I still believe that the decision to keep Noah in the dark was a sound one. If we had told her the truth weeks ago, then she would have reacted differently – and by that I mean she would have likely collapsed and maybe even died.
I could have lost her too.
Her brain was stronger now than it had been a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t fool enough to think she was healed. I saw the physical pain she’d been suffering in the cemetery. I understood that the emotional pain of Bailey’s death hitting her had overshadowed the pain in her head and body. I knew that later, once I had her home and alone, everything would hit her all at once. Her pain, Bailey’s death, the confusion of it all. It would slam into her when she had a moment to stop and realise the weight, and truth, of it, and I would be there to shoulder the burden with her.
I closed my eyes and heard her scream in my head as I remembered running up to her on the ground by Bailey’s grave. It was a wail of disbelief and raw pain, and a desperate plea for what she was seeing to not be true. I knew it because Noah had been voicing the scream that I’d been keeping inside since the night my little sister died. Noah couldn’t hold her emotions in, and I couldn’t let them out. Not because I didn’t want to – I just had a wall built up inside me to keep everything in check. It was the only way I could function.
I was terrified that if that wall broke I would collapse right along with it.
A shout followed by a feminine scream snapped my eyes open. I jolted as my eyes sought out the source of the commotion, and I locked my gaze on the entrance to the flat building. A few people were rushing out of the double doors, almost trampling over one another to get outside, and it caused me to jump out of my car in a panic.
“What’s wrong?” I shouted, rushing forward. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Fire,” a man coughed, waving his hand in front of his face. “Fourth floor. It’s bad. There are dozens of families in this building, lots of elderly too!”
I widened my eyes. “Call 999. Now!”
Without another word, thought or a second’s hesitation, I took off sprinting towards the building. I shoved my way through the crowd of people who were pouring out of the doors clutching their children, loose belongings, pets and their sanity, as the sound of the building’s fire alarms reached my ears. Nothing else mattered to me in that moment, other than getting to Noah and bringing her to safety.
Nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
NOAH
When I opened my eyes and found Anderson practically in my face, I flinched. I stared at him with slowly blinking eyes for a long moment. He was silently staring at me, as if waiting for me to do something. I tried to gather my thoughts but couldn’t.
“What?” I rasped. “What happened?”
My head was sore, but only slightly. There was a heavy pressure on my wrists and hands that made me feel uncomfortable. I tried to move my arms but found I couldn’t. They were behind my back and bound together. Confusion swirled in my jumbled brain. My mind felt hazy, like I couldn’t straighten anything out to form a coherent thought.
“You were only out for a few minutes,” Anderson answered with a tilt of his head. “That’s surprising. You said that morphine knocks you out for hours.”
His words made no sense to me.
“Anderson.” I struggled against the material tied around my wrists and feet. My boot had been removed and I couldn’t see it anywhere. “What is this? Untie me.”
I looked to my left and right as he straightened to his full height, crossed the room to the dining table and sat in front of a plate full of food and a wine glass that was filled to the top. I realised that I was on the floor in a sitting position, with my back resting against the base of the sofa. I leaned my head back and groaned. I hated how fuzzy my mind was; it reminded me of being in the hospital when I was given medicine to kill my pain.
“Anderson.” I swallowed, my throat dry as a desert. “I can’t think.”
“You don’t have to think,” he answered. “I’ll do that for you.”
I looked at him and frowned. “What?”
“Things are going to go back to the way they were,” he said as he cut up his food with his knife and fork. “I promise.”
I struggled against my bindings.
“Let me go!” I demanded. “What are you doing?”
He paused and glanced at me. “You know better than to raise your voice at me, woman.”
I most definitely did not know better. Had he forgotten I didn’t know anything about him?
“I’m so confused,” I said, clearing my throat. “Did I collapse?”
“No,” Anderson answered as he picked up his wine glass. “I drugged you, but before you fell asleep you tried to leave so I hit you. I had to protect you from yourself, so I did what I had to do.”
I heard every single astonishing word he said and repeated them twice in my head. I stared at him as he calmly drank some wine, then went back to eating his food like he hadn’t just said the most
