Noah’s POV
I drive as fast as I dare, acutely aware that despite the heat steaming up the windows, Daisy is still shaking uncontrollably. I don’t know whether it’s from the shock or how cold she is, but it’s scaring me.
It is not even with conscious thought that I find myself pulling up to Daisy’s childhood home. K.illing the engine, I scramble out, jogging around to the passenger side and tugging open the door. I reach inside, helping Daisy out of the vehicle, the café owner following my lead silently, not even flinching as the freezing raindrops hit her face and skin through the rips in her clothes.
Grabbing her purse, I slam the door, wrapping my arm around her waist and guiding her to the small wooden porch and up the three steps to the front door.
I slowly release her, eyeing her
