NOAH: SMELLS LIKE TROUBLE

Growing up, I was always told that bad luck comes in threes. At this point, I might just become a believer.

It started earlier this month, when I tripped and fell down the hospital stairs while rushing to meet a patient, and was forced to take some "much needed" time off, even though I was perfectly fine.

Then came the bloody wedding invitation, arriving like something out of a horror show.

And last came the twenty-minute voice notes from Albert Sterling Reid, the man I have the displeasure of calling my father, threatening unspeakable things if I didn't accept the invite and head down to MeadowLark immediately.

Albert Reid is a controlling motherfucker who needs to control everyone and everything around him. A fifty-nine-year-old child in an adult's body who never got used to the concept of being told no.

In simpler words, a fucking narcissist.

When the invitation arrived, I knew better than to think he'd give me space to process it. I wouldn't be surprised if he was behind my perfectly timed fall and my "time off."

I had already blocked his number, so he borrowed my mum's phone to leave the voice notes. Naturally, I planned to ignore those too. But then my mother called, pleading with me, like she always does, to come home and mend whatever is broken between my father and me. As if there is any hope of that.

But if bad luck comes in threes, I suppose small blessings come in ones. This one happens to be a beautiful dark-skinned woman.

Dolly Pierce sits in my passenger seat, shivering within an inch of her life, the coffee I bought for myself this morning clutched between her hands.

The car wipers sweep back and forth in a steady rhythm, never quite winning against the angry downpour, and the windshield has begun to fog at the edges. Aside from the soft lyrics of what I think is a love ballad pouring from the radio, we've been driving in companionable silence since we left that sorry excuse for a bus stop.

And I've had to physically restrain myself from gawking at her like some lovesick fool.

Not that I'm in love with her, of course.

My crush on Dolly Pierce is a long-dead thing. It has to be.

No matter how many therapy sessions I attend, deep down, I am still my father's son. I crave control just as much as he does. His blood running in my veins is reason enough to stay away from Dolly. I would not be responsible for dimming the light of someone as perfect as her.

Plus, Oscar would definitely cut my balls off if I ever approached Dolly with romantic intentions.

Leaning forward, I fiddle awkwardly with the radio, turning it down as far as it will go, then switching it off completely. I turn up the heat and flick on the defrost. Warm air hisses against the glass, and a patch of the windshield slowly clears.

"Thank you," Dolly manages. She's swallowed by my spare jacket, the sleeves hanging past her fingertips, water slowly dripping from the ends of her braids onto my leather seats. I find I don't mind in the slightest. She pulls up the sleeves.

"Sure," I say, racking my brain for something engaging to talk about and coming up blank. We've already gotten past the how-are-yous and the welcome-backs, and I've come to realise that even after all these years, I'm still tongue-tied and brain-dead around this girl…this woman. "Where do you stay these days? I could drop you on my way."

A mischievous smile curls her lips. "Already looking for ways to get rid of me, Noah? I just got here."

I scoff at the thought.

Outside, MeadowLark blurs past in watery grays: a shopkeeper hauling in a sandwich board, a man losing a fight with a broken umbrella, the florist's awning dripping in sheets. Dolly drags a sleeve across her fogged window to see it better, leaving behind a long, damp streak.

"Well, I never really forgave you for August the flourteenth, so it's not out of the question."

She gasps, scandalized, her slim fingers reaching for metaphorical pearls at her throat. "That was years ago! And I told you not to call it that."

I tear my eyes away from her neck. "My Histology notes were ruined. I had to redo half a semester's worth of work."

She throws her arms up. "You left them on the counter."

"There was flour everywhere." I chuckle. "It took forever to get that kitchen clean."

She laughs, a warm, giddy sound that fills the car better than the heater, and some tight knot behind my ribs finally loosens. I'm starting to think coming back to MeadowLark wasn't such a terrible idea. Despite the real reason behind it.

Placing a hand on my shoulder, she looks at me through thick lashes, and I find breathing momentarily difficult. "I apologized. And gave you the first batch I made as penance. Can't you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Anything for you. "I would have to contemplate."

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, she raises both hands in mock surrender and turns back to the window. "I live just across town," she says,

"Near Pete's place?"

She blinks, confused for a second. "Actually, Pete sold his place. It's called The Omega Sweet Spot now, and it's a café. I work there."

Nothing decent runs through my mind at that combination of words, so I keep my mouth shut and nod.

Unperturbed by my silence, Dolly continues. "It's about fifteen minutes from here."

I glance at the clock on the dash, then at the shiver she's trying and failing to hide. "My place is four minutes away."

"Oh, no. You don't have to…" she starts.

"You're soaked, you're cold, and you're going to catch pneumonia. I'm a doctor. I can't, in good conscience, let that happen. " I flick the indicator and take the left onto Alder Street. "I took an oath and everything.“

Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “You took an oath?”

“Yup, it's very binding. I might lose my license if anything happened to you.” I wink at her. “You can dry off, get changed, and make something to eat at my place."

"Are you trying to get a free meal out of me, Noah Reid?"

It's my turn to dramatically clutch my metaphorical pearls. "Of course not. Just looking out for you. Not to mention, Oscar would never let me live it down if I let his little sister get sick."

The words are barely out of my mouth before I realize my mistake. She always hated being babied. Her smile doesn't vanish so much as flatten. She sits up straighter in my jacket, chin lifting, but the sleeves slide down over her hands again, halfway sabotaging her attempt at looking intimidating.

She bristles. "I'm a grown woman, Noah. Just because you've got five years on me doesn't automatically make you my babysitter. I'm not so little anymore, in case you haven't noticed."

Oh, I've noticed alright.

"Then, as a friend, can you please come to my place and dry off?" I amend.

She sets the coffee in the cup holder and tugs the jacket's sleeves higher once more, the movement stirring the warm air between us. Something drifts across the car, honey first, then a thread of spice beneath it, cinnamon or something, thick enough that it catches at the back of my throat. Strong enough to make me drowsy.

I swallow against it. It is a scent I've never associated with her. She can't be…

Just as quickly as it came, it's gone. The heaviness lifts, and I can breathe easy. I glance at her expectantly, but her gaze stays fixed on the road, oblivious to what just happened. I must be imagining things. The three hours of sleep and long drive must finally be catching up to me.

I crack my window down.

Beside me, Dolly chews her plump lower lip, tongue poking out to play with a silver ring I don't remember her having, but appreciate like a starving man appreciates a meal.

I can see her running the math, weighing the pros and cons. The rain hammering relentlessly on the car roof makes the decision easier.

"Fine," she says. She holds up five fingers emphatically. "But I won't be staying long. Five minutes, tops."

"Deal" I agree, speeding up.