ME: What makes you think my prison warden will agree?

NOAH: I saved your life. I’m hardly going to let you hurt yourself over a plate of fries and a strawberry milkshake.

ME: I suppose you can try.

NOAH: I’m pretty persuasive. Does your mom like flowers?

ME: She owns a florist business, so I’d say so.

NOAH: …I’ll think of something.

ME: Good luck with that.

CHAPTER SEVEN – REAGAN

The Great Escape

I had no idea how Noah thought he was going to charm my mother and great-aunt into letting me out of the house.

Monday morning was bright and warm—a fact I was only aware of thanks to the sun streaming through my window. It was a miracle I was allowed to use the toilet without Great-Aunt Bethel peeking through the crack in the door to watch me.

It was starting to get a little… unnerving.

Like, I wanted to call the police and report a stalker kind of unnerving.

I checked my reflection for the fiftieth time in the mirror. I wasn’t quite sure why I cared as much as I did. The last time he’d seen me, I’d looked like I’d, well, been in a fire.

Today, though, nobody would know by looking at me. My hair was no longer a dry, knotted mess thanks to a heavy slathering of an argan oil mask, and the black shadows that had been present under my eyes had been lightened thanks to plenty of sleep.

I glanced at my phone. I’d done it every ten seconds for the last few minutes. I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told Noah that I was about to get cabin fever. I needed to get out of this room and have some breathing space from my family.

I appreciated them. I honestly, really did, and I knew they were only doing what they thought was best for me, but hot damn, I needed some air.

And no, despite Great-Aunt Bethel’s quip that I should open a window, that wasn’t good enough.

A red truck rumbled into view, slowing as it approached the house. My stomach flipped as it stopped at the end of the driveway and the door opened and Noah jumped out. His black t-shirt clung tight to his muscular body, and his light denim shorts hinted at the muscle in his legs, too.

And probably his butt.

And I wasn’t gonna lie, I kinda hoped he’d turn around so I could get a shameless look at his ass.

As he knocked at the front door, I ran to my bedroom door and pulled it open so I could listen.

“Joanna? Who is it?” Great-Aunt Bethel called.

“I don’t know, Bethel,” Mom said in a tired voice. “I haven’t answered the door yet, have I?”

“Why are you taking so long? Anyone would think the door is halfway down the street.”

Yep.

Welcome to the madhouse, Noah. The straitjackets are in the closet to the left.

“Hello? Can I help you?” my mom said.