Noah’s words were sincere and carried with them a punch that landed somewhere between my left and right ventricle, directly in the center of my heart.

“It’s been hard,” I said, unable to sugarcoat it. “Really fucking hard. But we’re doing our best, handling it day by day. What else can we do?”

Noah reached across the center console and grabbed my hand, squeezing it. A gesture that meant more support than anything else and one that knocked down another wall between us, turning it to rubble. He let go almost immediately, but the brief touch was enough to put a smile back on my face.

“You’ve got a superpower, you know?”

Noah looked at me as he slowed to a stop under a red light. “What is it?”

“Making people smile. You do it all the time. At the book club, at work, probably even at the DMV.”

“I did make the lady taking my photo laugh at a joke I said,” Noah said proudly.

“Called it.”

He laughed, the sound filling the car like music from my favorite artist. “I just give back the energy people give me. Or at least the energy I want them to give me. Keeps things positive and usually rubs off on everyone else.”

“It does,” I said, still smiling as we drove onto the highway, effortlessly accelerating. The white leather seat seemed to wrap around me. I stretched out my legs, massaging the tension in the back of my neck. “The book club was great tonight. I love being a part of it—sucks that I couldn’t stay. I’m excited about the retreat, though.”

“Same,” Noah said, his grin growing. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other in his lap, relaxed and comfortable. “It’s always a shitshow, but in a really good way. There was one time that Tristan got so drunk he thought the neighbor was a brown bear coming at him. He yelled bloody murder and ran into the cabin, tripping over himself and locking the door. Emily shows up minutes later wearing this big fur coat, knocking on the door and asking if everything was alright.”

That story resulted in more laughter filling up the car.

“She looked a little offended when we told her what really happened. I never saw her wear that coat again,” Noah continued, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was focused on the road, which gave me a moment to focus on him: sharp jawline, soft nose, softer lips, long and curly lashes, a couple of perfectly placed beauty marks, a subtle scar that ran at the edge of his left brow. Poetry on skin. That was Noah. Everything flowed together like lyrical prose, creating someone that was equal parts captivating and welcoming. He drew me in unlike anyone else in my life had.