CIARA
I turned away from Noah.
"I'm sorry, but I do not have anything to say to you right now," I said over my shoulder.
Noah, not willing to take no for an answer, stalked over to me and gripped my wrists.
"I am so sorry, Aunt Juliette. I will explain everything to you. I just need a moment with Ciara here," he said apologetically to my mother, yanked me into a standing position, and took me to the farthest end of the hallway.
I yanked my arm away from his grip.
Noah ran a hand through his hair repeatedly, his body tense as he tried to speak. I cocked my head to the side, feeling the familiar rush of anger I always feel whenever he was near.
Finally, he held my gaze.
"You should apologise," he said quietly. I could see the anger in his eyes, and I knew his quiet words was an attempt not to alert my mum about what we were discussing.
But his words made no sense. Me? Apologise?
"Did you hit your head on your way here?" I responded sharply.
