In truth, I didn’t know how I would stop them. I tried, back when I thought it could be Franky. I thought a show of force could scare him away, make things calm again. But that clearly didn’t work, and we were running low on suspects. Who could want to torture Noah like this? And why turn on our relationship?

“I, uh, should get going,” Robby said as he took a couple of steps toward the front door. Fear was apparent in his blown-out pupils. Nothing I could blame him for. “Noah, if you need anything, please call me. I have the keys to my parents’ cabin if you need an escape—actually, you said you’re having a book club retreat in Blue Ridge, right? Take my parents’ cabin.”

Noah shook his head. “There’s no need for that, but thank you, though.”

“It’s a two-million-dollar cabin with a three-sixty view of the mountains.”

“On second thought,” Noah said with a weak chuckle. “Tristan would blow if he found out I said no to this. He likes nice things.”

“I’ll drop off the keys tomorrow.” Robby managed a wink, warm eyes crinkling at the corners in a weak smile. “And listen to Jake. It’s going to be okay.” He tapped his knuckles on the door and left.

“We have to call it quits,” Noah said when the door was shut, and I could see the seriousness in the way his brows furrowed and jaw twitched. “We have to. I can’t be with you if this person is still out there. I can’t. I can’t.”

Noah started to cry again. The sound of his tears made me feel as if I were swallowing glass. It was painful in a way that went beyond just the physical. I reached out for him on instinct, wrapping my arms around him again. He sobbed, continuing to say, “I can’t,” and I started to realize he wasn’t just talking about our relationship.

“You can,” I whispered against the crown of his head, his hair soft against my lips. I kissed him. “We can, Noah.”

He sniffled and patted his cheeks. My shirt was stained with his tears, the light red fabric turning dark around my chest. “No, I refuse to put you in any danger, Jake.”

“Danger is a part of life. It can come at you slow, something that takes your mind and body from you at a snail’s pace, or it can come fast, in a car crash that turns off all the lights in the blink of an eye. Me being away from you doesn’t keep me safe. I can trip down the stairs leaving your house and die from hitting my head, and that’s probably way more likely than being murdered by whoever this lunatic is. They’re all bark and barely any bite.