Page 75 of Stick Move

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice full of sympathy. “You can nap in the car.”

“Where are we going?”

“Out of the city.”

I nod, thinking that might be a good idea. It will give me time to figure out what it is I want to say to Noah. I run upstairs, wash my face, comb my hair and pull on yoga pants, T-shirt and a sweater, noting that the weather is cooling. Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Melanie’s car. She glances at me.

“Want to talk about it?”

“You mean the news isn’t all over the resort?”

“No, it is,” she answers honestly. “That doesn’t mean you don’t need to talk, though.”

“Is it okay if I just rest my eyes?”

“Of course.”

I close my eyes and feel the car sway. It lulls me to sleep and when I wake up, we’re outside of the city. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to be sorry. I’m glad you rested. I want your brain fresh for where we’re going.”

I have no idea where we’re going or why my brain needs to be fresh, and I think I’m too distraught to ask. I simply stare at the trees and farms as we pass them, and recognize where we are. After a long moment, I begin, “I made a mistake. I said some things, and thought some things I shouldn’t have said or thought, and when I opened my mouth, finally finding my voice, it was too late to fix anything.” I catch her grin. Why the hell is she grinning. “Mel?”

“We all make mistakes, Brighton. The first step is owning up to them. Only then can we understand why we made them and find a way to correct them. It’s then that you can take steps to move forward.”

“You’re going to be a great therapist someday.”

“You mean I’m not already?”

“You are, but I’m not one of your clients.”

“No,” she says gently. “I’m your friend and friends help friends.”

My stomach clenches. She was Noah’s friend too. They really hit it off. “Have you been talking to Noah?” When she doesn’t answer right away, I sit up a little straighter. “Mel?” I glance around and that’s when I know exactly where we are. “Why are we here?” She pulls into the old farmhouse we spotted when we went to pick out Mabel. The For Sale sign is no longer on the lawn. My heart thuds. “Mel?”

“Yes, I’ve been talking to Noah,” she answers gently. “He’s here.”

“Why is he here? Wait, is this where he moved? Does he know I’m here?”

She doesn’t answer those questions, instead she gestures with a nod. “Go around back.”

I jump from the passenger seat, my legs rubbery as I hurry toward the back of the house, not at all sure what I’m going to find. Noah, however, must be here, otherwise why would Mel bring me to the country? Will he greet me with open arms or animosity?

I guess I’m about to find out.

I round the corner and tears flood my eyes when I find the man I love pushing the young girl who stole a piece of my heart on an old swing set. They’re laughing, like neither of them had their hearts torn from their chest. I should go. I turn, but Melanie is right behind me, preventing me from fleeing.

“Talk to him,” she urges.

I swallow against the pain in my throat and turn, searching for the courage. “Noah,” I finally say, my voice shaking as badly as my body. He turns his head just as Camryn stretches out her legs and swings back his way. Before I can warn him, Camryn’s feet connect with…

I wince.

“Oh shit, that can’t be good,” Melanie snorts as Noah drops to the ground and begins writhing in pain. We hurry toward them, and Melanie slows Camryn’s swing down as she joyfully squeals and calls out my name when she sees me.

“You’re here, you’re here. You’re finally here, Ms. Brighton. Daddy said I had to be patient.”

I only half register what she’s saying as I bend to check on Noah. He mumbles curses under his breath as he cups his balls, and while it’s not at all funny, I start to laugh, the tension from the last week needing an outlet.

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