She didn’t prod him to continue. She just listened and waited. A quality that he doubted was something she’d learned only from working with survivors but was probably just part of who she was. A good listener. A good friend. A good person.

“Impotent,” he finally answered. “That’s how it feels. I can’t do anything. I can’t go back and change things.”

She nodded, smiled softly, and then rested her head on his shoulder again.

The fire popped. Alexis sighed. At the end of the bed, Beefcake licked his fur. And somewhere deep inside Noah, an ember caught fire.

It’s not like it was the first time she’d ever snuggled up to him. Their standard pose when watching a movie these days was her feet in his lap. And just a couple of weeks ago, she’d fallen asleep leaning against him.

This felt different.

Maybe it was because of the guys’ meddling. Maybe they’d planted seeds in Noah’s brain that were starting to germinate. Or maybe, probably, it was because the guys were right. His feelings for her were real, and seeing her vulnerable like this was making it impossible for him to deny it. But the one thing Noah knew about gardening was that there was a small window of time when roots could grow. He’d missed the window with her. Breaching their friendship now would be crazy. Stupid.

Especially now.

He wasn’t friend-zoning himself. He was being a friend.

“Your mom never mentioned your father?”

“Not once. Not by name, anyway.” Alexis licked her lips and continued. “She offered to tell me who he was when I turned eighteen, but it didn’t seem important. He obviously didn’t care about me, so why should I care about him?”

As far as Noah was concerned, that sentiment still applied. The bastard was using one daughter to guilt the other—the one he’d neglected her entire life—into risking her life to save his sorry one.

“What’re you going to do?” he asked after a moment.

“I have no idea.”

“You don’t have to do anything, you know. You’re under no obligation to do what Candi is asking of you.”

She stifled a yawn.

“You okay?”

“I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Then sleep. Your body is telling you it needs time to recover from the shock.”

She yawned again. Noah took the tea from her hands. “Lie down. Get some sleep.”

“Are you going to leave?” she asked, lifting her head from his shoulder.

Noah dipped his head and kissed the crown of her hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Alexis scooted down and rolled onto her side away from him. Ten minutes later, her breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm.

It would be hours before Noah’s did the same.

* * *

* * *

Noah couldn’t breathe.

A hot, heavy pressure on his chest was slowly crushing his lungs. He awoke with a choking cough and stared directly into the glowing yellow eyes of the demon himself.

Beefcake.

This was it. This was the moment when he died. Beefcake had seen him sleeping next to Alexis and was finally getting his revenge. The cat stood on his chest, claws digging into his skin through his T-shirt. Hate radiated from his eyes.

“Easy now,” Noah whispered, glancing sideways at where Alexis slept soundly. “Just be cool.”

Beefcake opened his mouth and dropped the remains of a dead mouse on his chest.

“Jesus Christ!” Noah leaped off the bed. Beefcake yowled and dug his claws into Noah’s chest before taking flight like a winged gargoyle. The dead mouse fell to the floor with a quiet thud.

Alexis stirred but didn’t wake. The dead mouse stared up at him with vacant, mournful eyes. Noah was going to have to clean that up before Alexis noticed. He crept from the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. Under the sink, he found a roll of paper towels and a stash of plastic bags. Beefcake growled from the top of the stairs, and Noah fought the urge to flip him off before soft-footing it back to the bedroom.

Holding his breath, he grabbed the rodent with a wad of paper towel and tossed it in the bag. Alexis stirred again, so he froze. Her chest rose and fell evenly with every breath, and in her sleep, her face was as relaxed as he’d ever seen it. He wanted to crawl back in bed with her and wrap his arm around her waist.

Which is why he forced his feet to move. He carried the bag and dead mouse downstairs. The dumpster was just outside the back door, and after tossing it in, he dragged his keys from his pocket. There was no way he was actually going to fall asleep again, so he might as well make use of the time.

He grabbed his backpack, went back inside, and flopped down on the couch. He did a quick search for kidney donation risks. The first result was a FAQ from the Mayo Clinic, so he clicked on it and sat back against the cushions to skim the key points. Thousands of kidney transplants were performed every year in the United States . . . higher rate of success when donated by a living donor . . . minimal risks of long-term health problems for donors . . . recovery of six weeks.

He clicked through several more search results, but all gave the same basic information. Kidney donation was safe with very few risks to the donor, and donations from family members who shared a genetic link could reduce the chances of the recipient’s body rejecting the new organ.

Noah closed his laptop and scrubbed his hands down his face. It was all so clinical. He stared at the ceiling and pictured Alexis upstairs. In bed. Another groan brought him upright, and he lifted the lid on his laptop again. He typed in the name Elliott Vanderpool. It took less than five minutes of research to realize that he had a lot more than abandoning his daughter to answer for.

The bastard was the head of engineering for the aerospace division of one of the country’s biggest defense contractors, BosTech—a company that had been under federal investigation five years ago for failing to properly report defects in its drone navigation systems, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of Iraqi civilians.

Which meant he was neck-deep in blood.

A man like that didn’t deserve to even breathe Alexis’s name much less ask for a goddamned kidney from her.

CHAPTER SIX

Alexis woke up the next morning feeling like a hollowed-out pumpkin. And not the perky, freshly carved kind either. She was more like a month-old jack-o’-lantern, empty and soft, likely to break into squishy pieces if kicked over.

She’d fallen asleep on top of her comforter, but at some point, Noah must have covered her up before leaving. She couldn’t believe she’d slept all night. It must have been the whiskey.

A meow next to the bed interrupted the pointless direction of her thoughts. Alexis rolled onto her side and stared down at Beefcake. She patted the mattress for him to jump up. It took several tries before he finally hauled his substantial bulk onto the bed with her. He rubbed his face on hers before settling down with a strong purr. She was the only person he trusted enough to let his guard down around like this. The only person he trusted, period. Her poor misunderstood cat.

Alexis adopted him just six weeks after her mom died. She hadn’t been looking for a new cat. She could barely function, and the last thing she’d needed was the responsibility of a new pet. But the shelter had called and said he’d been there for more than three months. Could she at least foster him for a little while? Alexis had taken one look at his angry face and knew he’d be hers forever. She’d never been able to turn her back on a lonely creature.

Lonely creatures were almost always fighting a battle no one knew about.

The morning alarm on her cell phone chimed on the bedside table. Time to get up. She couldn’t afford to lounge in bed, no matter what had happened yesterday. The café didn’t care that a wrecking ball had crashed through her life.

With an apology to Beefcake, Alexis sat up and lifted the afghan from her legs.

And that’s when she smelled it.

Coffee.

It had to be her imagination. But when she slid from bed and stood, the smell hit her again. Stronger now. Like a gift from Heaven. Had Noah programmed her coffeepot before leaving last night? It was exactly the kind of thing he’d do. Something warm and gooey spread in her chest as she walked across her bedroom, but she stopped short when she heard a noise downstairs.

A clink, like coffeepot against mug.

The warm, gooey feeling evaporated as her heart somersaulted. Noah was still there. Alexis turned and stared at her bed as all the air seeped from her lungs.

Ducking into the bathroom, Alexis took stock of her morning face. Eyes puffy from sleep. Cheeks chapped from crying. Hair like a cartoon character. So, yeah, she was super attractive. She quickly tamed her hair into a twist on top of her head and splashed some water on her face.

Her bare feet padded softly on the carpet as she walked downstairs and up the hallway toward the kitchen. She stopped short at the sight that greeted her. Noah stood at the counter with his back to her. He wore the same clothes as last night, but they were more rumpled now. His hair hung loose around his shoulders—full and curly and the kind of hair supermodels paid millions to achieve and maintain. He held a mug in one hand and his phone in the other, his thumb scrolling rhythmically through his Twitter feed.

Alexis stepped into the kitchen and tried to keep her voice normal. “Hey.”

Noah turned around and gave her a tired smile. “Hey,” he answered through a voice still thick with morning. “You sleep okay?”

She nodded and hugged her torso. “I thought you’d left.”

He peeled away from the counter, eyebrow raised behind his glasses. “Like I was going to leave you alone.” He nodded toward the table. “Sit. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“Thanks, but maybe just some coffee? I’m not sure I can handle food right now.”

She sat in a chair and drew one knee up to her chest, propping her foot on the edge of her seat. Her eyes followed his movements—reaching for a mug from her cupboard, filling it with coffee, dumping the right amount of creamer and sugar in it to make it palatable. Then he joined her at the table, claiming the seat next to hers.