The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles) (22 page)

Chapter 29

Noble woke to the sun beating down on face and feeling like he’d swallowed a bowl of dust. He groaned. How long had he been lying here? Then he had a flash of Sweet Cheeks in his room ushering him into the shower. When had that been? Last night?

He shifted and listened as the sounds of music drifted from down the hall and pot lids clanked. Had Sweet Cheeks returned so soon? Before he could formulate another thought, the soft padding of someone coming down the hallway brought her front and center to the foot of his bed.

“Oh, good, you’re finally awake. You feeling better?” She smiled sweetly and held a steaming plate in her hands.

He couldn’t answer, his brain was apparently mush.

She approached like it was no big deal. “I’ve been checking on you regularly. You’ve been in and out of it for the last couple days. I called my doctor and he said there’s a nasty virus going around and you’d be fine. Must be one hell of a bug to knock you for a loop like that.” She turned compassionate eyes to him as she set the plate down on the bedside table. “But if you weren’t any better today I was going to truck you off to the hospital myself.” She inclined her head toward the food. “I made you some scrambled eggs. Why don’t you try to eat?”

He moved to sit up. Suddenly he was ravenous. She smiled as he practically inhaled the plate of food.

She reached over and placed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Your fever’s finally broken. That’s good.”

“Thank you. For everything,” he finally said as he sat back, sated.

“You’re welcome. Least I can do. Here.” She offered him a glass of something blue. “It’s Gatorade.” She answered the question in his eyes.

He drank it all in three swallows.

“Anything else you need?” she asked. “Another shower?”

A smile tempted his lips, but he was too tired to let it grow. “Maybe later.” He thought a moment. “What’s today? I guess I need to call Jed and let him know I’m outta commission.”

“I already took care of that for you. And it’s Friday.”

He’d been out that long?
Holy shit
. He studied her face. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Her lashes dipped as she glanced at the floor. “I called in sick.”

“To take care of me?”

Her eyes shot back up to his as she nodded.

“Why?”

“Because.” She picked up his empty plate and cup. “You deserve it, Noble. You deserve a whole lot more than I can give you, as far as I’m concerned.”

He watched her retreating back, unsure what to say to that. There was so much more he wished she could give him . . .

She finally came back about twenty minutes later just as he was starting to drift off. His eyes popped open when he heard her, rather
felt
her, enter the room.

“So,” she began, fidgeting with the edge of her T-shirt, “your kitchen and living room are clean now. Your laundry’s done and clean sheets are in the corner there and everything’s ready for when you get up to shower. I’ve got some soup ready for you in the fridge.” She hesitated a moment. “I guess there’s no reason for me to hang around.”

Something pinged in his heart. He’d never had anyone take care of him like this. Never.

She took a step backward. “I’m really glad you’re feeling better. I’ll see you soon?”

“Wait.”

She froze, uncertainty painted on her delicate features.

“Would you stay?”

“Sure. Do you need something?”

“No.” He struggled to sit up. “But I’d like you to stay. Please.”

“But—”

“You’re right. I’m feeling better. I need to get the hell outta this bed for a while. Let me get a quick shower then how ‘bout if we watch a movie and eat some of that soup you made or something?” He watched as the resistance literally slid off of her. “Just hang out with me, Braelyn.”

Emotion flooded her eyes as she nodded. “Okay. Go grab a shower. I’ll heat up the soup.”

Michael knocked on Noble’s door, hoping he wasn’t disturbing his rest too much. Braelyn had been kind enough to keep them updated, but he’d been tasked with dropping off a care package from Kyle and Ariel.

The door swung open. His eyes had to track down to find a face. Miz Braelyn? An automatic flair of hope lit up inside of him before he could tamp it down.

“Hello, Michael,” she said softly.

“Miz Campbell.” He hefted the bag full of crackers, Kleenex, pain relievers, and drinks. “I came to check on Noble and bring him some things. From everyone at the studio.”

She opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Come on in. We were just watching TV. He might’ve dozed off, though.”

Michael moved into the kitchen, bypassing the living area and the sounds of an action flick. He waited until Braelyn followed him. He hated that she still seemed wary of him since the changes in the Buddy Program. But he had to trust that Father had made the right decision for all of them. He offered her a small, hopefully reassuring, smile. “How’s Tristan?”

“He’s good.”

He nodded once. “I’m glad to hear it. I miss him. Maybe . . .” He glanced at her as an idea began to take shape. Could he do it? Would it be a blatant disregard of Father’s plan? Surely not. Just because they weren’t Buddies anymore didn’t mean they couldn’t spend time together. After all, he was still a part of this assignment.

“Maybe what?”

A scream from the television brought his attention full circle, solidifying the plan in his mind. He flared up a quick, silent prayer, hoping his thoughts were headed in the right direction. “Well, I was thinkin’, maybe Tristan would wanna come hang out with me at my place for a while? I could take the night off. We haven’t gotten to spend much time together lately. And just because we can’t do it officially doesn’t mean we can’t do it at all, right?” Jed would absolutely pitch a fit since he’d be down two tattoo artists, but he would make it up to him. Priorities, after all.

Her brows knitted in confusion. “Oh, well, uh, he’s not here.”

“Oh.” Disappointment settled heavily in his gut. So much for salvaging his relationship with Tristan and allowing Noble and Braelyn an evening alone.

“But I was going to call him to come home soon from his friend Nate’s. We could ask him?”

Hope blossomed again. “Okay. Sure. That’d be great.”

She shuffled through her purse for a cell phone and dialed. A few seconds later there was an obvious debate on the merits of purchasing yet another video game before she asked him about coming home. “Michael’s here.” She glanced his way. “He was wondering if you’d want to go spend some time with him at his place.” A moment’s silence. “Yes.” Her eyes darted away. “I know, son.”

Michael saw the shift in her body language and knew what Tristan was saying even without the words. He’d lost him. How could this be Father’s plan?

She spoke a few more hushed words before he heard her murmur, “Well, okay, if you want to, sweetie. Call me on my cell phone if you need anything. I love you.”

She hung up and turned around. “I’m sorry, Michael. He wants to spend the night with his friend tonight. Maybe another time?”

Somehow Michael knew there’d probably be no other times. But as he realized the opportunity this presented for his couple, he couldn’t be all that upset.

Father
, he thought,
please work your magic here tonight
.

Braelyn let Michael out and returned to Noble in the living room. He was crashed out on the sofa, just as dark and sexy as always, sick or not. She was absolutely shameless. She tucked a light blanket over him and cleaned up their soup dishes, wondering what she should do now. It was early, he was no company, and she had no child to worry with. Well, she could hang out a little longer before going home to her lonely, empty home.

As she wiped up the counter, she glanced across the yard at her own house. The tree in the front yard was starting to drop its reddened leaves. Her lovingly tended flower garden had closed up against the cold, but the mulch was holding up well. Automatically her thoughts turned to her grandmother, the one who’d taught her everything she knew about gardening. Well, what little she’d retained. The one who’d taught her what she knew about children, fairies, butterflies, and loving life. The one who’d taught her to love herself, though there’d been a time when she’d forgotten that precious advice.

She leaned against the counter as the pain of losing the person she’d loved most burned clear and bright, fresh as the day it had happened.

She dabbed her tears and stood. Enough of this cry-baby stuff. She borrowed Noble’s bathroom for a quick shower and dressed in one of his humongous flannel shirts, rolling the sleeves to her elbows.

After nibbling on a sandwich and doing some online Christmas shopping for Tristan, she settled back on the couch with Noble, tugging the blanket to make him share, and changed the channel to a romantic comedy. She glanced over. Still out like a light. He’d never know the difference. She grinned and settled back to enjoy the show, enjoying the warmth and security of someone next to her.

The next thing she knew, soft pink light was kissing the back of her closed eyelids and a warm hand was sliding along the back of her leg. He brushed the tender skin of her knee.

She gave a soft, breathy moan.

Lips brushed the flesh behind her ear and trailed down the column of her throat, behind to the nape of her neck.

Her hands reached out and found themselves tangled in the silken mass of his hair.

“Look at me,” he urged, his voice deep, coated with sleep, and something darker and much more dangerous.

Slowly, she slid her eyes open and met his.

His hand cupped her jaw, his thumb caressing her chin as he studied her. Their breath mingled as his midnight gaze all but ate her up. But she couldn’t move. Didn’t have the capacity for thought.

His eyes dipped as he toyed with the collar of his own shirt on her. “Nice,” he whispered. “Looks better on you.” The hot pads of his fingertips moved to trail down her neck to the open V of the flannel shirt. “Very nice.” Lower, until he brushed the top mound of her breast, nearly scorching her.

She sucked in a breath. “Oh, God.” She had the fleeting thought that this must be a fantastical dream. If it was, she didn’t want to wake up.
Please, God, no.

He glanced up, his black eyes dancing. “God’s not gonna help you now, sweetheart. Try, ‘Oh, Noble.’”

Heat licked up her spine. What had gotten into him? What had happened to just being friends? She couldn’t care as another hot hand cruised up the outside of her thigh and came to rest just shy of her panty line.

“Noble.”

His lips found the shell of her ear. “Yes, baby?”

Suddenly she was flipped until she straddled his lap, his hands cradling her hips, his eyes peering into hers. And that’s when everything in her threatened to explode.

Her blood.

Her libido.

Her heart.

Good God, her heart. It was quivering on the edge of being lost to him if it wasn’t already.

Someone banged on the door, saving her from having to make a fight or flight decision. Noble’s whole body tensed beneath her when the man’s voice called out, “Baptiste.”

Chapter 30

Braelyn jumped up from Noble’s lap, sensing the severe change in his demeanor. It was as if ice had begun coursing through his veins. Another insistent knock on the door had her glancing over her shoulder.

“I don’t fucking believe this,” Noble ground out between clenched teeth.

“Um.” Braelyn took an automatic step back and bit her bottom lip. “Do you want me to . . .?” She waved a hand in the direction of the door, then started when the pounding became louder.

“Baptiste? I know you’re home!”
Bang! Bang!
“Please open the door and speak to me. I know you hate me, but I’m still your grandfather.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“I’m not leaving until you open this door.
Please!
”

Braelyn shrank away when Noble rose from the couch, fury pouring from every fiber of his body. Pure rage filled his eyes like she’d never seen.

She was torn with the urge to run and the need to stay and offer whatever support she could, though she felt sure he would shut her out. She should be thankful for the interruption. Her heart was a millisecond away from toppling like a boulder at his feet, and she’d be a fool to offer her heart to another man who’d crush her. And Noble would. Whether he’d mean to or not, he would, because he could never offer himself to her openly. He was too twisted up with anger. Plus, she had Tristan to think about and if Noble couldn’t give his heart to her, how could she expect he’d have anything to give her son?

But, darn if her heart was listening to all the good reasoning of her brain.

She closed her eyes to the rush of pain.

“I didn’t realize you had a wife, Baptiste. She’s very beautiful.” A strange voice had her eyes popping open. The man approached her, his hand outstretched. “Ashkii Blackfeather. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young lady.”

Her eyes darted over his shoulder to Noble’s face. He was stone still. He looked tight as a bowstring but, she noticed, he didn’t bother to correct his grandfather about her being his wife. She glanced back at the rail-thin man. Other than a few inches and several pounds, the resemblance was uncanny. She automatically accepted his hand, feeling the bones in his emaciated grip. “Hello. I’m Braelyn . . .” Again she looked to Noble for direction, but he was closed off like never before and gave her nothing. “ . . . Campbell. Noble’s
friend.
” Might as well give her heart the start of a clean break now.

He glanced down at the flannel shirt she wore then over to the blanket on the couch, giving her a glimpse of the yellow-tinged whites of his eyes. He was kind enough not to say anything about a “friend” wearing only a flannel shirt at seven-thirty in the morning.

“I see,” he said. “My mistake.” He glanced behind him to Noble, who’d yet to move or speak. “I’ve kept up with Baptiste pretty well over the years by reading the tattoo trade magazines and Gentry’s website. I’d hoped he’d found someone special and settled down and it was just kept private.” He looked her in the eye again. “He deserves it.”

She swallowed, unsure what to say.

Noble finally unglued himself from the entryway and took a couple steps in their direction, but his face was as impassive as ever. His eyes stayed trained on Braelyn, though his grandfather stared at him like a starving man. “Braelyn.” He spoke, his voice low, controlled. Nearly animalistic.

Her heart shook. “Yes.”

“I think it’s best if you go now.”

She waited a beat. His body was rigid, as if he was waiting for her to argue. There would be no swaying him.

“Okay.” Quickly, she moved to his room, changed back into her own clothes, grabbed her purse and ducked out the door without a backward glance.

At home, Braelyn showered and popped a pan of cinnamon rolls into the oven. Her eyes strayed to Noble’s house for about the hundredth time, wishing she could catch a glimpse of what was going on between him and his grandfather. His emotional turmoil called out to her like a black hole sucking her in. Deep. Dark. Endless. She wished she knew what to do for him.

“Oh, Bray, get yourself together.” She hung her head in shame. “You’ve screwed up with men too many times. You
cannot
do it again.”

She would not give Noble the power to break her, or Tristan’s, heart. Never again. The time for foolish notions was over. He was a ticking romantic time bomb. Besides, they had agreed to be friends. What would a friend do?
Not fall in love with a friend, you dope!

God, was she too late?

She shook off her doubts. She knew what she had to do. It was time to draw a line in the sand and protect her heart and Tristan’s at all costs.

Noble stared at the old man, still not believing he’d had the balls to come here. “What do you want?”

Shoulders suddenly slumped, his grandfather ignored the question and turned to shuffle toward the couch. “You mind if I sit? I don’t have much energy these days.” He set aside the throw that had just covered Braelyn’s legs and sat, his weight hardly dipping the cushion. “Your friend seems like a nice girl.” He glanced up. “Real pretty.”

Noble barely controlled the shaking of his body as anger rolled through him. “You don’t get to look at her, you hear me?”

Sadness filled his grandfather’s eyes and his head dropped. “I understand you hate me. I guess I never knew how much.”

“No. You never will. Now, what do you want?” He bit out the words.

The older man glanced up with tear-filled eyes. “I want you to forgive me.”

“Not gonna happen.”

As Noble stared him down, he didn’t flinch. “I know I don’t deserve it, but we’re the only family we each have left and I was hoping for the chance to prove to you how sorry I am. I want you to know that I’ve changed before, well, I just need to, Baptiste. It’s important. Please consider it.”

Noble listened with cool detachment, his boiling anger subsided. He’d had plenty of fantasies of the different ways he could torture and kill the old man if he ever saw him again to make him feel just a fraction of the pain he lived with every day, but all he wanted now was to be alone. Defeated, he sighed. “You’ve done enough, don’t you think? Why don’t you go?”

His grandfather nodded once. “I’m not giving up on you. You’re my blood, boy. I’m determined to fix this if I have to die trying.” He stood and headed to the front door. “Goodbye, Baptiste. I’m staying at the Old Tabernacle church shelter for now until I get things together. If you need to see me.” He let himself out.

“Don’t count on it, old man.”