Chapter 13

 

 

 

“Jules, what is it?” Noah asked, coming to stand beside me, his hand resting on the shelf as he looked down. 

 

I opened the hard cardboard cover, and there it was. My past, my big never-talk-about-it secret. All the things I was never trusted to handle. 

 

A large cavern had been carved into the two books, leaving only an inch of paper around the edges. In the hole were photographs and letters, and something that appeared to be bank statements.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Noah breathed.

 

I put a trembling hand inside and pulled out a handful of photos. One fell free and I knelt to pick it up. My breath caught as I saw it wasn’t one that was in Noah’s collection. It was of a man and woman, smiling, holding an infant.

 

My infant.

 

A noise escaped my throat and the book box and other photos slipped from my hand. Noah dropped to one knee when I melted into a sitting position.

 

“What?”

 

I held out the picture, one hand over my mouth as if that would hold all the crazy in, and I heard him swear under his breath.

 

“That had to be—”

 

“Right after,” I finished. 

 

The image swam before my eyes and I kept blinking it clear, needing to see the people that raised my child. That taught him to say Mommy and Daddy and how to ride a bike. That kissed his hurts and hugged him through his successes, and made him a man.

 

“Fuck,” Noah said, rising in one movement and walking away a few steps, running fingers over his eyes. His breathing was louder, and I looked up to see him go stand in front of my painting, bracing one hand on the wall. “I’ve never seen them before,” he said, his voice low. 

 

“Well, I guess my mother didn’t quite share everything, huh?” I said, tears coming freely once I finally let them have their way.

 

He drew in a long, labored breath and blew it out slowly, running another hand over his face before he turned back around. When he came back he slid his back down the wall and sat facing me. I sat cross-legged in my black leggings and wraparound black skirt, not caring. After a long look he picked up the box and positioned it between us. We each pulled things out and explored, reading letters written in longhand from Seth’s—mother. We touched crayon drawings and read his first poem. We looked over more snapshots of Seth and another boy, presumably a brother? Noah hadn’t seen those either, and we looked until there was nothing left.

 

I leaned over onto my elbows with my face in my hands.

 

“I’m sorry, Noah,” I said into them.

 

He was only a foot away and pulled my hands from my face. “For what?”

 

“This should have been our family,” I said, though very little sound went with the words. I was so tired, so wrung out, that even crying was too much effort. “My mother took that away and I let her do it.” My chin trembled, although I felt dried up. “We could have been a family.”

 

Noah’s eyes looked exhausted too, like he just wanted to sleep. He sat against the wall in his sweats and T-shirt with one knee up and the other leg sprawled out. 

 

“Come here,” he said, putting his knee down. 

 

The look on his face told me not to argue. I scooted up so that my cross-legged position had my knees resting on top of his. It was kind of intimate, and him still holding my hands didn’t help.

 

“You have a family, Jules,” he said, his voice soft but his expression still haunted by all that we’d seen. “Everything happens the way it’s supposed to happen.” He squeezed my hands tighter. “You had Becca. Seth’s parents got to raise a great kid they wouldn’t have otherwise.”

 

“And you?”

 

A stricken look passed over his face before he glazed it over, burying it forever. “I got to—make the world a safer place for them.”

 

The stab to my heart was physical, and I winced.

 

“I used to think about you when I was out in the field,” he said. “You and Seth.” He looked down at our hands. “I’d imagine what he was doing. What you were doing—” At my look of doubt, he added, “Yes, even though I was angry, I still thought about you.”

 

The scar in his eyebrow twitched as he frowned. I wanted to smooth it, touch his face more than anything in the world right then.

 

“You two were what kept me human,” he said in a whisper. “When what I was doing—” He stopped and his whole face tightened and his eyes went dark. “Wasn’t very human.” 

 

He cleared his throat and forced his expression to clear. 

 

“I’d think about the moment he was born,” he said. “Your face.”

 

“Oh, Lord,” I said.

 

He smiled and moved a lock of my hair out of my face, temporarily stopping my heart. “It was beautiful.” He held my hand up between us and held tighter. “You had my hand in a vise, begging me not to let go. I promised I wouldn’t,” he said, the smile in his eyes fading.

 

“And then you did,” I said under my breath.

 

He inhaled slow and deep, nailing me with that thousand-mile stare of his. “And then I did.” He looked physically pained by that admission. “I’m sorry I left you alone, Jules. I swore to be by your side and then I left you to carry this by yourself.”

 

I gave him a small smile. “Everything happens as it’s supposed to happen,” I said, and one side of his lips spread into a smile that turned my insides to a churning ball of energy.

 

I lost my resolve not to touch him with that smile, and I moved my hand softly over his cheek. Noah sucked in a breath and closed his eyes when I touched him. My breath quickened at the new rush of adrenaline that shot through me, and the look of surrender that heated his eyes when he opened them sent a new burst of nerves buzzing through my belly.

 

Both his hands came up to my face. “I’m sorry,” he said.

 

“Sorry?” I breathed, confused and spinning. 

 

Pulling me to him as he leaned in, he nodded. “I can’t hold this in anymore.”

 

Noah’s mouth landed on mine with a sweet hunger that made my bones feel as though they left me entirely. Energy pulsed through me like lightning at the feel of his mouth, the taste of him, his hands twisting into my hair. It was like I’d been starving for him and one taste triggered everything. My hands went up into his short hair, pulling his head in deeper and bringing a low rumbled growl from his chest that set me on fire. I couldn’t get close enough.

 

As if he felt the same need, he pulled me into his lap, my legs straddling him as he shoved my skirt up so that I’d fit against him better. Our foreheads pressed together and the tears that filled his eyes stung my core. Suddenly my lungs, my eyes, my throat—everything burned with the emotion of needing him so badly I couldn’t breathe. His arms moved up my back and pulled me so impossibly tight that when I wrapped my arms around his head and he buried his face in my neck, we clung to each other as if our lives depended on it. 

 

I felt his hot tears on my skin, and it brought all the injustice of the years we lost to the surface. Nothing felt more right than being intertwined so tightly we were one, rocking slowly, desperately clinging to each other.

 

The only thing that pulled me from that embrace was my need for his mouth. I was shaking when I held his face in my hands and saw the rawness in his eyes. I landed back on his lips, exploring his mouth, tasting the salt from our tears. 

 

He dug his fingers into my back as his mouth trailed down to my neck, sending tingles to all the important places. His hands moved from my thighs slowly back up to my hair, lighting up every inch that they passed.

 

“Oh, God, Noah,” I part whispered, part moaned, as I felt him hard against me and moved my hands over his shoulders, his back, his head again. I couldn’t get enough. “I can’t stop touching you,” I breathed. 

 

“I know the feeling,” he said, shoving my sweater jacket off my shoulders and landing there with his mouth, tasting his way up my neck. Reflexively, my thighs squeezed and I arched against him, making him moan against my skin and dig his fingers into my hair. His kisses went lower, playing at the swell of my tank top neckline while holding me firmly against him, driving me mad. 

 

A tiny voice in the back of my mind was screaming to be heard, telling me to stop. Telling me that it was a bad idea. Telling me that my heart couldn’t take another Noah heartbreak.

 

But the rest of me was louder. Every cell of my being went on full alert as his hands moved over my body and I felt his need matching mine. I held his face against my chest and moved against him as his breathing grew ragged and he grabbed my ass and rode it with me. He let go and slid his hands up over my breasts to my face, searching my eyes as we both breathed as if we were racing. As if sensing the runaway freight train we’d climbed on was about to jump the tracks. The intensity hit me to the bone, filling me with a need that burned my eyes.

 

“Jules.” 

 

I saw everything in that one second, everything he couldn’t say, everything he’d ever felt. 

 

“Don’t let go,” I whispered.

 

Noah blinked back emotion, and when his mouth sealed over mine again it was solid, real, like a promise. He explored my mouth, pulling me deeper and deeper, my mind exploding with the thoughts that this was Noah. That I was kissing Noah again. Touching him. 

 

“Hold on to me,” he said against my lips, gripping me against him with one arm.

 

I wrapped myself around him as he lifted and pulled his legs under him, picking me up a little awkwardly and dropping me on the rug. 

 

I pulled him down with me. “Nice move.”

 

A smile curved his lips. “I’m slowing in my old age.”

 

He dove into my mouth once more, hungry, needing. I wound my legs around him and pulled him down to me, craving the weight of his body on mine. He was so much more solid than the last time I’d held him like this. Tighter, harder. His kiss turned possessive, pinning me to the floor, taking my breath away with his ardor. Making me dizzy with my need for more. I tugged at his T-shirt, wanting skin, and he lifted so that I could pull it over his head.

 

God, he was glorious. I wanted to lick every inch of his torso, but my current position under him didn’t allow that, so I settled for a shoulder as my hands kneaded his back. I didn’t get much of that, however, as he was on a mission. Torturing me in a delicious rhythm, Noah dragged his mouth down my neck back to my breasts, lifting my tank top and sinking his face between them. His mouth made love to my cleavage while he pushed between my legs in a slow pulsing tease. My little black leggings and his sweatpants didn’t provide much in the way of restriction, so the mock lovemaking had me gasping for breath within minutes.

 

His fingers worked one thigh up and down until he’d cup my ass and grind himself into me. It was insane, the power he had over my senses. He had me almost blind with desire, digging my nails into his back with each thrust. Then he moved down, kissing my belly and untying my bunched up skirt in seconds, following his hands with his mouth as he pulled off my leggings in one move and kissed his way back up one thigh.

 

“Mmm, Jules,” he murmured against my skin.

 

I arched and grabbed his head as he lingered over my lacy panties, his hot breath on the fabric nearly finishing me off. 

 

“Noah,” I breathed, barely able to form the words. “Please.”

 

He could have yanked them down and had his way with me, but he didn’t. Instead, he made the trip back up, kissed the inside of each breast, and then moved to suck a nipple through the straining fabric of my bra, grabbing my leg and pushing himself against me again. 

 

I groaned and moved with him, feeling him tremble against me.

 

“Keep doing that,” I said between breaths. “And you’ll undo me. I’m so close.”

 

“I’ve been undone for three days,” he growled against my neck. 

 

His next thrust put us face-to-face. His hands framed my face and his eyes bored into me with that look of his that turned my insides to mush. I was hopeless for him. Again. And I was ready to give him everything again. I raked my nails down his back to his ass, pulling him with me on the next one and sliding his sweatpants downward.

 

Just as his cell phone rang.

 

With “Love Shack.”

 

 

 

• • •

 

 

 

Everything froze.

 

Our eyes locked as the song played out, neither one of us moving a muscle, like that would hide us from the woman behind it. As it fell silent and reality seeped into every breath, there was a five-second moment when harsh awakenings landed hard. Noah closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine, letting go of my leg as I pulled his pants back up and let my arms fall to the sides.

 

I was mortified. 

 

We broke our own rules. I had given in, heart, mind, body and soul—again. To a man who wasn’t mine to give it to.

 

“I’m sorry,” Noah said, under his breath, not lifting his head. His skin was hot against mine, or maybe that was just me projecting my own shame.

 

My body still ached with frustration and didn’t want him to get up. I wanted to stay wrapped up in him. But more than that, my heart ached over the walls I’d let him knock down.

 

“Oh, my God,” I whispered. “I am not this person. I’m not this woman.”

 

Noah lifted his head from mine and rolled to the side, making me instantly chilled and vulnerable. I sat up and pulled my tank top down, scooting backward to lean against the back of the couch and pulling the afghan into my lap. Noah watched my movements with a narrowed gaze, leaning on one elbow.

 

“What woman would that be?” he asked, his voice low and controlled.

 

I covered my face with my hands. “One that sleeps with a pregnant woman’s future husband.” I shook my head. “I don’t do this. I don’t even almost do this.”

 

He sat up facing me and pulled a hand away, holding on to it.

 

“Is that all it felt like to you? Sex?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I was in a very different place.”

 

I closed my eyes and clenched my jaws tight to fend off the hurt in my chest. Remembering the connection we’d just had and the total surrender of my heart, the tender places in there that hadn’t been touched in twenty-six years. My hand fisted at my stomach like I could hold it all in if I pushed hard enough. 

 

“Yeah, that,” he said, putting his hand over mine, making me open my eyes to look into his. “That right there.”

 

“Noah,” I said, my voice choking on his name.

 

“I know.” 

 

Minutes that felt like slow motion passed as we sat and breathed and wallowed in misery.

 

“She’s become my friend, Noah,” I said, wiping my face with the afghan.

 

“I know,” he said again. “And I feel like the world’s biggest fucking prick right now. But it doesn’t change—” He closed his eyes and ran his free hand over his face, squeezing mine tighter. “It doesn’t change that I’ve thought of nothing but you since I got back to town, Jules. Last night, it was everything I could do not to pull you out of his arms on that dance floor.”

 

The memory of his eyes on me, raw and angry, made me swallow hard. I had to stay resilient. 

 

“Shayna’s a good person,” I said, hearing the shake in my voice and begging God to take that away. I was tired of crying. I was tired of feeling weak. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Your baby doesn’t deserve this,” I managed to add, the words coming slow and deliberate. The burn fed through me and I prayed for the numbness to come. It had come before, it could do it again. “We have to live in this town together, Noah.”

 

He closed his eyes and nodded, looking beaten down.

 

“We can’t let this happen again,” I said, the last word having to be choked out.

 

He opened his eyes slowly, fixing me with that unblinking gaze of his. “I’m sorry about the pictures, Jules. And my dad. And—” He gestured behind him to the box and other pictures on the floor. “Your mom. I’m sorry about everything you’ve had to deal with. But I’ll never be sorry for getting to find out a little more about my son today.” He took a deep, shaky breath and threaded his fingers through mine. “Or about this.” 

 

All I could hear was the echo of those warnings that had been yelling at me earlier. The ones I’d ignored while Noah Ryan was feeling me up.

 

“I know that makes me a dick with Shayna,” he continued. “But having you in my arms again—”

 

“No,” I said, cutting him off. Not wanting to hear more words that I’d just replay again and again later. “It can’t—” I looked away and clenched my jaws tight to hold back the pain that wanted out. The tears that somehow found a way to flow yet again. I pulled myself together before looking at him again. “I can’t do this again, Noah.”

 

“Do what?” he asked.

 

“You.”

 

He blinked and searched my eyes for more, but it really just came down to that.

 

“You don’t know all the details with me and Shayna, Jules,” he began. “We don’t have what you think—”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “What you have is a child. Everything you’ve ever wanted.”

 

“Not everything,” he said under his breath, his whole body teaming with tension. I could see his muscles twitching in his neck and shoulders, and his still being shirtless wasn’t helping me.

 

I couldn’t think like that. “I broke—everything today,” I said. “Every promise, every rule, every—”

 

“Promises to who?” Noah demanded.

 

“Myself,” I said, bitter laughter bubbling to the surface. “I’ve spent two decades living behind lines I never crossed. Twenty years of holding back, not giving my heart completely, not even to my husband. Not ever wanting to feel crushed like that again. And fifteen minutes with you blew all that away.”

 

Sharp emotion flashed in his eyes before he pulled it back. “Because you gave me your heart.”

 

The memory of that embrace and the tears in his eyes stabbed me in the chest. That would have been the moment. “I don’t know how to be with you any other way,” I said. 

 

“I don’t either.” 

 

My chest felt so tight it was hard to pull in air. “You need to go, Noah,” I added, softer. I tried to pull my hand free but he wasn’t letting go. I pleaded with my eyes. “Please.”

 

“I don’t want to let go,” he said.

 

He spoke so softly I barely heard him. But those words coupled with the devastation in his eyes nearly buckled me. 

 

“You have to,” I said, wondering where the words were coming from. “Your family’s at home.”

 

His family. I saw it hit the mark.

 

He looked down at our hands, and when I pulled mine free he didn’t resist. Taking a deep breath to stem off the stab that sent through me, I got to my feet. It was easier to keep moving, and I tossed the afghan aside and quickly pulled my castaway leggings back right-side out and stepped into them. It was acceptable enough without fumbling with the skirt and sweater; I basically looked ready to go to the gym. I found his shirt and handed it to him as he rose, ignoring the flutter in my stomach at the full-standing, shirtless view.

 

“Thank you,” he said, not looking at me. He tugged it on in one movement.

 

“Need me to drive you—”

 

“No, I’ll walk,” he said. His tone had changed. He’d gone under, shutting it down. That was a move I understood too well. “I probably need the walk,” he added, attempting to soften it some.

 

I crossed my arms and rubbed them, feeling chilled, and when our eyes locked my heart broke for the eighty-third time that day. It was unreal to think that we’d just been entwined in each other’s arms only moments earlier, and I ached for it.

 

The second ringing of his cell broke the moment. I vowed then and there to never listen to “Love Shack” again.

 

“Bye, Noah,” I said, hearing the wobble in my voice. 

 

I lifted my chin to help counteract it and turned to walk into the kitchen, waiting for it. When I heard the front door open and close, I gripped the granite of the island, focusing hard on the cold, wanting the frigid rock to ice down my blood.

 

It wasn’t enough, however. Short of diving into a lake of ice, nothing would push back the fiery pain that threatened to engulf me. I’d let it in. I’d let him in. In the days since his return, I’d broken every personal rule and boundary I’d ever set for myself. 

 

I gulped for air as the sobs came, and I didn’t fight them. I was tired of fighting them, tired of crying so much. That wasn’t me. But it felt like I’d spent the last week holding it all in.

 

I grabbed a Coke from the fridge and held it to the back of my neck as I walked back into the living room. I stopped short, staring at the floor by the bookshelf. Books were everywhere, papers and pictures lying askew. And the rug where we’d nearly done the deed. How much worse would that have been? Or would it? Did it really matter that we hadn’t finished?

 

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let love into sex. With Hayden, of course, but even in all those years of marriage—not heart-and-soul kind of love. 

 

Noah had pulled that from me with a kiss.

 

“Shit,” I cried, dropping to my knees on the rug and letting whatever needed to come, come. I curled up in a ball like I’d done so many years ago. All the brokenness seemed to come at once, like moths to light.

 

Harley bounded down the stairs a half hour later, pausing when she saw me on the rug, as if not quite sure what to do with that. Lord, I’d forgotten about Harley once we got started. She must have decided she didn’t want to watch and bolted for Becca’s room.

 

She padded down the last few steps and wagged over to me, licking my face and probably wondering if all this floor activity was some new game. She sprawled on the floor for a belly rub, her legs splayed wide. 

 

“Slut,” I said, my voice still thick with crying.

 

She didn’t care. I lay down next to her and rubbed her till her head lolled to the side and her eyes closed. I envied her that. The ability to shut it all down, whenever and wherever. I buried my face against her side and let myself float.

 

The front door opening was unplanned.

 

I jumped at the sound and movement and light streaming in, not to mention Harley’s full-flail awkward attempt at getting her feet back under her to get to Becca.

 

“Mom?”

 

Blinking my swollen and salt-logged eyes open, I saw a hazy Becca.

 

“Shit, I must have fallen asleep,” I mumbled.

 

“On the floor?” she said, kneeling beside me. “Are you sick?” She peered closer at me. “Are you drunk?”

 

“Oh, God, I wish,” I said, grabbing my head as the crying headache took root.

 

“What happened here?” she said, looking behind her. “Why are all the books on the floor?”

 

“Why are you home?” I asked, sitting up and suddenly realizing the near horrendous situation we’d have had if she’d walked in like that an hour earlier.

 

“Came to get different clothes,” she said, distracted. “Mom, what’s going on?” Leaning over, she picked up a photograph of Seth when he was around her age. “Who is this?”

 

I took a deep breath and scooted over to where the majority of the pictures lay in a pile.

 

“That’s— ” I began, my heart picking up speed. “Your brother.”