Page 61 of Don't Take the Girl
"Dallas?" he says in disbelief.
"Do you think he'll tag along on the Bourbon Trail this weekend? I was thinking?—"
I quickly get off the bed and embellish a hiss of pain as though I forgot about my ankle. I really need to talk to Asha and fill her in, but right here, right now, in front of Noah, is not the time.
Noah climbs over the bed and jumps to my side. "Are you okay? You need to be more careful."
"I'm fine. Maybe we should head down to see the physical therapist," I suggest, trying to change the subject. "Asha, are we still on for dinner tonight?"
"Dinner…" I glare at her eyes wide before she foils my plan. We don't have a dinner date tonight, but we need to talk. "Umm, yes." She nods slowly. "Does 7 p.m. still work for you?"
"Works for me," I confirm.
"Okay, well"—she casually strolls back to the door—"I'll see you tonight, then. It was good seeing you, Noah."
"Pleasure as always, Asha."
The second she's gone, I ask, "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"Why does it sound like you don't want me to be here?" he responds in a terse tone as he offers me his arm, and we start toward the hallway.
"I'm just surprised, is all," I say, attempting to hide my annoyance. His timing couldn't be worse.
Though, I am surprised. Noah and I stay in touch, and although we've been intimate on occasion, we've never put a label on our relationship.
"You're sure that surprise is authentic and has nothing to do with the fact that London Hale is here."
"I had no idea he was here. I was just as shocked to see him as you were this morning."
"I don't know, you looked pretty comfortable in his truck."
I stop walking and release his arm. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He runs his hand through his perfectly unkempt combover. "It means I think you're ignoring my calls because he's here."
I wait for his blue eyes to connect with mine. "Are you accusing me of lying?"
"No, that would require you to respond to a text or answer the phone when I call," he quickly responds, his voice piqued with irritation. This is how it's always been between London and Noah—forever a dick-measuring contest—and I'm sick of it. My reasons for not answering the phone have nothing to do with London. I wasn't answering his texts before I discovered London was my neighbor for the summer. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be a dick, but seeing you with him this morning wasn't easy. It brought back many old memories—ones I thought I'd never have to revisit. I don't want to fight with you," he says, taking a step into me and grabbing my hands.
Noah's comment about revisiting memories feels off. We've discussed that night many times, enough for me to know that his recollections aren't as painful as mine. I saw the look he and London shared before he lied and told Sheriff Townsend that he saw London stab the man. It's why I didn't talk to him for almost a year after everything happened. I resented him for helping London lie. I hated the selfishness I felt he possessed to put London behind bars and not me.
Back then, his lie felt like a calculated chess move, one where he strategically played the game to capture me as though I were a prize that could be won. But as time passed and wounds began to heal, I discovered I couldn't deny him the same grace I'd extended to London. The anger still burns when I think of London stealing my crime. It was a betrayal that left permanent scars. However, given the same choice, I would have made that identical sacrifice, putting his chance at a full, beautiful life ahead of my own, because that's what love demands: the courage to place someone else's needs before your own, even when it breaks you.
It's that sentiment that thawed my heart when it came to Noah. Who was I to judge the intentions buried in Noah's heart? Now, history repeats itself with painful familiarity. Some circumstances have shifted, but the core dynamic remains unchanged. I'm trapped in that same suffocating "choose me" desperation all over again, watching the board being set for another round of a game I never wanted to play.
"Why did you come?" I risk asking again.
"It's summer. School ended…" His blue eyes drop to our hands, where his thumb skims over the backs of my knuckles. "And unlike the summers before, we don't return in the fall. I'm heading back to Willow Creek, and I?—"
"Ah, there you are," a man with a British accent says as he turns the corner. "My session with Mr. Fairfield ended early, as he had to take a call, so I figured I'd come to you in case you needed help." He looks between me and Noah. "Am I interrupting something? I can wait."
"No, you're not interrupting," Noah says, his voice oddly shaky. "I'm going to check in at the B&B in town. I need to make a few calls. Can I see you later tonight after your dinner with Asha?" I nod in agreement, and he leans in and kisses me on the cheek. "I'll see you tonight, then."
"Okay," I confirm as his blue eyes stay locked on mine. Gone is the pent-up frustration from seconds ago, and in its place is something different, something that looks almost like fear, but before I can read into it any more, he's turning away.
"Shall we?" the PT extends his hand, and I take it.
"We shall."
