Chapter 246

Hannah

I sat on the edge of my hospital bed, watching Noah fidget in his. We’d been placed in the same room for overnight observation. The tension between us was palpable, yet being close to him offered a measure of relief.

The room was small, two beds separated by a thin curtain, currently pulled back. Pale green walls enclosed us; the only window offered a view of the dimly lit parking lot. The steady beep of monitors and the occasional squeak of shoes in the darkened hallway were the only sounds breaking the silence.

“I hate hospitals,” Noah muttered, annoyedly adjusting his arm sling as his eyes darted around the sterile room.

I was about to chide him for his fidgeting when I remembered—his mother had died in a hospital much like this one, just days after we’d snuck in to see her as teenagers. “I know,” I said with a soft sigh. “But it’s just for one night.”

Noah grunted, shifting restlessly. “We should just leave. I’m fine, you’re fine. We don’t need to be here.”

“The doctors want to make sure we’re okay,” I reminded him. “It’s standard procedure after what we’ve been through.”

Huffing, Noah sank further into his bed and grabbed the television remote. I watched for a few minutes as he flipped through channels—all late-night trash—before he shut it off and tossed the remote aside.

A brief silence followed. I nestled beneath my thin blanket, wishing I were home—back with my plush pillows and velvet drapes. Goddess, I’d gotten spoiled over the years.

Suddenly, Noah grunted softly and prodded at his shoulder—dislocated when he’d grabbed the cliffside. They’d popped it back into place, but he’d need a sling for a few days to reduce movement.

I glanced at him, furrowing my brow. “How did you keep holding on like that?” I asked.

Noah quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

I gestured to his shoulder. “You dislocated your shoulder, but you held onto both of us earlier. How did you do that?”

“I just did,” he said with a shrug. “Nothing could have made me let go.”

I studied him, my face flushing slightly as I recalled tonight’s events. The image of him leaping after me was seared into my mind, even more so than the sound of Jake’s screams as he plunged into the waterfall.

“You saved me,” I whispered unintentionally.

Noah’s gaze snapped to mine, his green eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite decipher. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he said simply.

I opened my mouth to respond, struggling to find the right words. Then, as if on cue, Noah’s stomach let out a loud growl, breaking the moment. He looked embarrassed—a rare sight that almost made me laugh.

“When was the last time you ate?” I asked.

Noah shrugged. “I don’t know. This morning, maybe?”

I shook my head, suddenly feeling protective in a way I hadn’t felt in a very long time. “That won’t do. I’ll be right back.”

Before he could protest, I climbed out of bed, carefully holding my gown, and grabbed my wallet. I slipped out of the room and headed for the vending machines I’d spotted earlier.

Truthfully, I just needed to stretch my legs and clear my head. Noah’s admission had left me deeply blushing, which I saw clearly in a hall mirror as I padded down the hallway. Thankfully, it was blissfully quiet, most patients already asleep.

Finding the vending machines, I inserted my card and punched in several numbers: chips, cookies, sodas, candy. All decadent junk food I’d never have indulged in before, but something about almost dying—for a second time—made me realize how ridiculous it was to restrict myself, especially now.

I returned to our room a few minutes later, arms laden with snacks. Noah’s eyes widened as I dumped the haul onto his bed. “What’s all this?” he asked, sitting up.