That Killed Us 15

Chapter15 

By the time a month of classes had passed, Lydia Rivers was finally breathing easier. 

One Saturday night, her roommates dragged her out to Harborlight Bar, a cozy pub near campus. The lighting singer strummed soft chords, and the whole place hummed with a mellow ease. 

was warm, an acoustic 

Lydia ordered a Virgin Mocktail and had barely settled into her seat when a familiar profile caught her eye behind the bar. 

Noah Sterling. 

He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, moving with practiced ease as he shook and poured. In the glow of the bar 

lights, his sharp features looked even more striking. 

She raised her hand, ready to wave–when a sharp voice broke through the music. 

“Hey! What the hell kind of drink is this?” 

A drunken man slammed his glass against the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Noah. “You trying to rip me off?” 

He lurched forward, hand out to shove Noah’s shoulder. 

Lydia didn’t think she just moved. 

She caught the man’s wrist, twisted sharply, and forced him back two stumbling steps. 

“Sir, you can talk it out,” she said, planting herself between him and Noah. Her voice was even, but there was steel beneath it. “Putting hands on someone isn’t the way.” 

Humiliated, the man’s face reddened. He swung a sloppy punch at her. 

Lydia slipped aside, hooked her foot behind his ankle, and with a deft tug sent him crashing into a chair. In one clean motion she pinned his arm against the wooden backrest. 

མི་རྒྱ་མ་དེ་ཕ་མས་པ་ས 

Two years of taekwondo in high school, plenty to handle one belligerent drunk. 

“One more stunt and I’m calling the cops.” She pulled out her phone and let him see the screen. 

His glare darted from her steady eyes to the crowd of onlookers. The fight drained out of him. Muttering curses, he shoved away from the chair and staggered out. 

Lydia exhaled, turned to reassure Noah–only for him to stride over and seize her wrist. His brows knit hard. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

She glanced down. A shallow cut marked her skin, where the man’s cuff button had caught her. Blood welled in tiny beads. 

“It’s nothing,” she said lightly, trying to pull her hand back. “Just a scratch-‘ 

Her words broke off as Noah vanished behind the bar. 

“} 

He returned moments later with iodine swabs and Band–Aids. Guiding her to a seat, he crouched on one knee and dabbed carefully at the cut, each touch feather–light, as if afraid to hurt her. 

“Don’t be so reckless again,” he murmured, lashes shadowing his eyes. “If you got seriously hurt… what then?” 

The tips of his ears had gone pink again, his fingers warm against her skin. 

Something shifted inside Lydia’s chest. She softened, her voice quiet. “I couldn‘ 

just stand by while someone pushed you around.” 

Noah froze for a second. Then he bent back to the task, sealing the bandage a little too quickly, pulling his hand away as though her skin had burned him. 

From that night, something between them changed. 

Chapter15 

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Three evenings a week, Lydia brought her homework to the Copper Kettle Diner, waiting until Noah’s shift ended so they could walk back together. 

When group projects tangled her up, they camped in the library, shoulders bent toward the same laptop screen until Noah’s steady explanations untied every knot. 

Some mornings, when she overslept and skipped breakfast, a Club Sandwich would turn up in her backpack. She didn’t need to ask who put it there. 

One afternoon, while organizing group research materials, Lydia accidentally knocked Noah’s notebook to the floor. She bent to scoop it up—and froze when the inside cover slipped open. 

A remittance slip was taped neatly to the first page. The recipient. St. Gabriel’s Home, a children’s charity back in the States. The sum was far from small. At the bottom, in tidy handwriting, was the sender’s name. Noah Sterling. 

Chapter15