in hand. “Nothing.”
“Stop. We don’t nothing each other. Say what you want to say.”
Noah walked over to the island and turned around. He opened his mouth and shut it. Then, with a heavy breath, he said, “It’s not your job to save the world, Lexa.”
“I’m not trying to save the world.”
“Then what are you doing?” Noah set down his mug and returned to the table. He sat down and leaned forward until his knees nudged hers. “You know how much I admire what you’re doing at the café. And not just for the survivors but, Jesus, even the cats you find families for.”
“But?”
“You’re running yourself ragged. And then you add all this shit on top of it? When are you going to stop and just take a breath?”
A lump formed in the back of her throat. She stood quickly to cover it. “I have to get ready for work.”
“Hey.” He reached for her hand, and the warmth of his fingers in hers made her bruised heart thud with a dull ache.
As he spoke, the pad of his thumb brushed her knuckles. “Just remember that you matter, too, Alexis.”
The ache became a sharp, pointed pain. And not just because of what he said, but because of how he said it. Or maybe it was just her imagination. Wishful thinking and all that.
Alexis cleared her throat and tugged her hand away. “Thank you for staying last night. And all this.” She gestured at his computer.
Noah leaned back in his chair. “Whatever you need. You know that, right?”
Her nod was more of a tremor.
“I’ll leave the stuff I printed,” he said, standing. He kept his distance from her, literally backing up to avoid brushing his arm against hers. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
No. I’m not okay. I’m reeling from the punch of a thousand different fists. “Yeah. Fine.”
He raised a single eyebrow.
“Well, maybe not fine but . . .” She sucked in a breath and let it out with a shrug. “I don’t know what I am.”
His face sobered. “Come here.”
With a single step forward, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a warm embrace. His heart pounded beneath her cheek. Strong. Solid. Reassuring. He held her and let her catch her breath, pressing his lips to the top of her head, just like he’d done when she rested her head on his shoulder last night. His hands rubbed gentle circles in the center of her back.
“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured against her hair. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now.”
“But I have to make them soon. Candi said he’s running out of time.”
Noah held her a moment longer and then pulled back. “Call me if you need me.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I will.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
He studied her silently for a beat, searching her face. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
They were silent as he gathered his things. She watched, frozen in place, as he slid his laptop into his backpack. As he swiped his car keys from the counter.
He was reaching for the door when she finally found her voice. “Noah.”
He turned.
“I mean it. Thank you.”
His smile was as reassuring as his words. “What’re friends for?”
Alexis waited until she heard his car back out of her driveway before heading upstairs to shower and get ready for work. A half hour later, she lured Beefcake into his cat carrier. It was just after seven when she pulled into the alley behind ToeBeans. This was late for her, even for a day when she didn’t open the shop. But Jessica and Beth had things well in hand when Alexis walked in. A line stretched from the counter to the door. Alexis quickly donned an apron and joined Jessica at the counter while Beth filled a customer’s latte order.
Jessica looked over from the cash register and did a double take. “Whoa. You okay?”
“Fine,” Alexis lied. She turned to the woman who’d just moved to the front of the line. “Good morning, Mrs. Bashar. How’s little Max doing?”
Max was a calico kitten that Mrs. Bashar had adopted just a couple of weeks ago during one of ToeBeans’ adoption events. The woman grinned and dug out her phone. “Oh, he is just the sweetest little thing.”
She turned around her phone to show off a photo of the kitten sleeping on her husband’s chest.
Alexis laughed. “And to think your husband didn’t want another cat.”
“The tough guys always have the softest hearts,” Mrs. Bashar said, returning the phone to her