EX Tradings and all subsequent holdings turned over to Rowan Ellis (soon to be Holt).
Darius Holt declines to answer all questions about personal life, including news regarding fiancé and best friend.
Noah watched Camille's expression closely, determined not to miss a single shift.
Camille stared at Noah like he thought he had not heard properly. "With…you?" It did not sound like the idea repulsed him, but he did seem scared and suspicious.
"Because I know everything. You don't have to worry about explaining it to anyone. And I'm a doctor, so I can help you a lot better than other people could." That was the logical explanation, the one Noah had given to Dr. Evans. He had also assured the psychologist that he would no longer be Camille's doctor once he was released, so he would be staying within the boundaries of medical ethics. And then there was the emotional layer, where some part of him wanted to be nearer to Camille so he could determine how true Chloe's diagnosis of him was. Or maybe he just wanted to make sure Camille was kept off the streets in a safe place under his care. With any other patient, he would be concerned about their safety, but he would never go this far. He knew himself well enough to admit that. Crap. Maybe Chloe was right.
Camille did not curl into himself or make any other motion of fearful self-protection. That was a good sign. "That's true, I guess." His gaze still pinned Noah with suspicion. "And you're not going to tell anyone?"
Noah shook his head. "It's your life. I'm not going to share your private information with someone else."
"Not even Darius?"
Crap. He had not even thought about that. He told Darius everything. They were best friends, and that was just what best friends did. Well, Darius would have to stay in the dark about this. "No. Not even Darius."
Camille raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You're expecting me to believe that you're not going to breathe a word of this to your best friend, who you've probably never had a secret from?"
"If I say anything to him, you can sue me. Or I'll let you beat me up. Whichever you prefer."
His words had the intended effect. Camille's mouth curved up on one side in a small, amused smile. "I'll hold you to it. Should I get you to sign a contract just in case?"
Noah's mind jumped on that. "A contract would be an excellent idea. That way we both have our expectations of each other down on paper. You know, like a roommate agreement."
"And we both sign it before I move in."
Noah nodded immediately. "Good idea. I'll draft mine, and you can draft yours." After a moment's pause, he asked, "What do you think of adding a negotiability clause? Like, so if something we wrote doesn't work in real life, we're allowed to change it to something that works."
Camille nodded. "The difference between theory and practice and all that." He understood Noah's intentions. Good. This was good. He would make a good living partner, at least according to current appearances. The only thing that would be different from other people Noah had shared a space with before was the fact that Camille was severely bipolar and Noah would need to keep a close eye on him.
But that would be fine. It would work.
Noah did a lot of refresher research in the days before the date Dr. Evans had predicted that Camille would be able to be released from the hospital. He reread every study he had gathered when trying to find a niche area of research for his doctoral project. He remembered most of it, so the most it did was remind him why he had chosen to research bipolar disorder in the first place: he never wanted another kid to grow up with a volatile parent. He tried to force away the memories, but his therapist had said that he needed to let himself feel the emotions associated with those times because he had kept everything bottled up for so long. So he set aside the journal in his hands. He slid out of his chair to sit on the floor, even though there was no one else in the house that he had to hide from. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the chair, he let the past out of its dark hole and submitted to the way it dragged him from one conflicting emotion to another until he was exhausted. Then he quietly got up and made dinner for himself.
So what if he was traumatized? There was not a single person on earth who had had a perfect life. He did not deserve a pity party just because his birth parents had treated him like a punching bag before he even turned ten. Besides, his life had gotten better ever since high school, when social service had finally intervened and sent him to a foster family, the people he called his family despite sharing no blood with them.
Darius was the only one outside of his family that knew, and he kept Noah's past as secret as a sealed government file. He knew better than anyone how much Noah hated being given privilege because people felt bad for him. He was the most trustworthy person in Noah's life.
And now Noah had a secret he could not share with his best friend. A secret he was going to keep despite the respect Darius had shown him because he cared about Camille too much. Was it too much? For a straight guy, it 100 percent was. Noah sighed aggressively and rubbed his tired eyes. Then he laughed bitterly to himself. After all, a gay awakening in his small kitchen had never been on his bucket list. "So you're gay," he said, talking out loud to himself as he searched for a clean fork in the drawer. "Or bi, like Chloe said." He paused and looked up at the curtained window. "Probably bi." He nodded to himself, fully aware that he was bargaining with himself to try to avoid panicking. He finally found a fork and held it up like an orator making a point. "And now that you've admitted that, you need to figure out a way to live peacefully with your crush." He groaned and tossed the fork down onto the plate on the counter. "How do you always manage to make things more complicated? Is it like your superpower or something?" After eating without really tasting the food, he made himself do the dishes, mostly just to give himself more time to think. The only useful thing he puzzled out before he rinsed the soap from his hands was that the negotiability clause in his and Camille's contract was probably going to be his saving grace.