I give him a nod and try not to notice how insanely good he looks right now.
It’s a hot afternoon, the kind of hot where you can watch heat waves rise off the asphalt and your skin burns in minutes. I’m excited to get to the meadow, but Garth isn’t cooperating.
Noah takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. “I can fix it if I get some time and enough tools. I’m sure Vin’s got some lying around.”
Of course he can fix Garth. Noah is perfect in each and every way.
While Noah cleans up, I brood in a downward spiral of doubt and uncertainty. Delia meant well with her words, but her mention of my parents has affected me. No matter how much I try, I can’t shake the despair that wants to pull me under.
At night, I play scary movies or audiobooks to help me sleep. I’m grateful for the radio at reception because the music helps keep the thoughts at bay. And Noah is the best medicine. Or at least, he would be, if my dark thoughts didn’t revolve around him.
While I’d like to believe that I’ve done something good this summer — I’ve helped Delia, Carrie, Fernando and Noah — I can’t quell the aching fear that I’ll let them down. Just like I’ve let my parents down. Given the messes that I create, Noah will be the first casualty. But how can I risk hurting someone that I love? Will Noah be left broken and hurt by me too?
I can’t bear the thought. I want nothing more than to spend all of my minutes with him, but how can I do that if those minutes might end in pain?
I stare darkly over the parking lot. On top of all my worries about letting my Legacy family down, now I also have to figure out what to do with this alternator. As though he can read my mind, Noah takes my hands.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says. I hope he’s right. I place my arms around his waist and pull him close. He leans down to kiss me.
When he pulls back, there’s an unmistakable sparkle in his eyes. “I might have an alternative.”
He takes my hand and drags me out of the car. We jog across the parking lot, coming to a stop in front of his motorcycle. “What do you think?”
My mouth goes dry looking at his Bonneville. “You want to take me on a motorcycle?”
“Only if you want to.”
I wrap my arms around myself. I’m terrified by the prospect, but I’ve always dreamed of doing this. My mom would be so pissed. “I’ve never been on one.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let you get hurt.” Noah’s eyes twinkle.
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I mumble. A cautious smile spreads across my lips. I reach up and brush his hair from his face.
I take a deep breath and some of the fear subsides. I’d trust Noah with my life. “Let’s do it.”
Noah places his spare helmet on my head and gives me a kiss before putting on his own. He gets on the bike and turns it on, revving the engine. Then, he instructs me to get on the back seat and tells me how to sit while we’re riding.
“Hold on tight!” He shouts over the noise of the engine.
“Got you.” I wrap my arms around him and lean into his back. He smells good, like soap and trees.
The rumble of the motorcycle is intoxicating and I feel a small tingle of excitement. Noah squeezes my thigh before gunning the engine. We peel out of the staff lot and head towards the highway.
We hit the road. It feels like we’re flying. Adrenaline flowing through me, I lift one arm and cheer while cars zoom in the opposite direction. The air rushes over us and I’m breathless from the force of movement. I hold onto Noah tight, feeling his abs constrict in laughter.
The best part? My mind is blank of everything but the exhilaration of speeding through time on two wheels.
My arms get cold and I cuddle back into him. Happiness floods me and I rest against his back, allowing him to warm me up. Noah never ceases to surprise me. I tilt my face forward and my eyes linger on the horizon. I see his cute half-smile in the side-view mirror.
I squeeze my eyes shut and pray that this moment will never end.
48
Noah
Bree wraps her arms around my midsection and my heart beats fast. It’s been months since I rode my bike. It’s even better being back on my Bonneville with Bree fitting perfectly behind me. I could almost forget that something is bothering her.
Almost.
All too soon, the ride is over. We approach the gravel road on the left and I guide us to a stop near the meadow.
“That was AMAZING! I loved it!” Bree shrieks and hops off the bike. She removes her helmet and, as soon as I’ve got mine off, she launches herself into my arms.
I kiss her. “Thought you would.”
I grab our bag from the back compartment, then I take her hand and we walk through the meadow. It feels like we’re back to how things were — back to the Bree and Noah we were just days ago. I let myself revel in it, hoping it never ends.
We lay out the picnic blanket and Bree shuts her eyes against the sunlight. I smile contentedly at this person I’m so deeply in love with and then flip open my notebook. I count the pages and discover that I’m almost at the end of my novel.
While Bree sprawls in the sun, I put pen to paper and let my words flow. I get lost in writing, but Bree and I don’t need to speak. It’s enough to know that she’s here.
“Question for you,” I ask. “What do you think about leaving the book open-ended?”
“Like with a cliff-hanger?”
I laugh. “If only my life was that exciting.”
She snorts and then looks at me. “Well, life is open-ended.”
A hint of sadness hides behind her eyes, but she turns away and closes them again.
I think about her words for a moment and then continue writing.
Bree takes a deep breath in. “Do you think I’ve ‘grown up’ this summer?”
She has that tone again — the forced casual question that somehow feels loaded.
I tense up. My answer matters a lot to her and, given that I let her down on the last question, I don’t want to risk making the same mistake. How do I tell her that she’s perfect as she is — that she doesn’t need to change a thing about herself?
“You don’t need to,” I say, instead of something that actually makes sense. I curse my lack of smoothness.
“What do you mean?” Bree props herself up on her elbow.
“You don’t need to grow up. I love you as you are. You can grow up, of course, if you choose.” I scramble, slightly panicking. Why are my words coming out like this? There must be a better way to phrase my thoughts. “You’re wild and free and exciting.”
Bree’s face clouds over and she flops onto her back.
My stomach twists. I said something wrong. Again.
“Too wild for the Stewarts, of course,” she grumbles under her breath.
Her words land like a slap to the face and something inside me shifts. The Stewarts? Like Andrew Stewart — the guy that she had a date with at the end of August?
A chill travels down my spine. Her face is dark and troubled, and her arms are crossed over her chest. Is that what she’s worried about — not being enough for Andrew Stewart?
I stare blankly at my notebook, my mouth suddenly dry. Why does Bree care what Andrew Stewart thinks of her?
49
Bree
Clouds rush across the sky like they have somewhere to go. They appear, then disappear, one after another. Shapes forming, then breaking apart.
It’s comforting, a reminder that I can’t expect anything to stay the same forever. My heart hasn’t slowed down since the bike ride. Maybe I had too much coffee. Or maybe, my dark thoughts have returned in full force. All I can think is that I’m too wild, too irresponsible — too this and too that, but still never enough.
Certainly, I’m too wild for Andrew Stewart, and for that, I’m endlessly thankful. But am I too irresponsible for the boy lying next to me? He says he loves that about me, but how can that be?
When I open my eyes, the sk
y has changed once again. An angry purple cloud hovers just out of my field of view. A storm is coming, it’ll hit in about ten minutes. The storm cloud looks like a mushroom — this’ll be a hefty one.
It creeps across the sky. The wind picks up and the trees rustle around us. We don’t have much time.
“The storm looks big.” Noah closes his notebook. “We should go.”
“Not yet,” I whisper, lying still and staring at the sky. My mom’s voice echoes in my head, droning on about how reckless I am. I’ll always be that way.
“Okay.” Noah says, but he sits up and packs a few things.
The first lightning bolt streaks across the sky. I watch it without blinking.
“Seriously,” Noah’s voice is urgent. “Let’s get out of here.”
“It’s not so bad.” I clench my teeth together to stop from shivering. The goosebumps along my legs and arms betray me.
“You’re cold. I have a tarp in my bike so we can cover ourselves before it hits.”
“I’m not cold.” My teeth click audibly together mid-sentence.
Noah smirks. “Liar.”
An icy wind freezes me to the core, and the thunder booms. I can’t take it a minute longer. Noah’s right, I’m frozen.
“Fine.” I feign exasperation and roll my eyes. “Let’s go then.”
I scramble to a stand and Noah folds the blanket.
The sky breaks open. The rain is violent, the lightning right above our heads. Thunder crashes and the world shakes. This storm isn’t classical music or even rock. It’s death metal.
A small piece of hail bounces off the top of my shoe.
Adrenaline shoots through me. If we stay out here, we’ll be pelted. I look at Noah. “Run.”
We sprint across the field. Just before we reach the treeline, lightning strikes a tall pine. There’s a loud crack, like a gunshot.
Hail sweeps across the meadow. It’s still small, but getting larger. Running into the forest is a terrible idea, but staying in the open is a death sentence.
We dart into the forest and the rain and hail pound the canopy aggressively. We reach the gravel road but I can hardly see Noah’s bike from the roadside. The rain falls in a grey sheet and the world has gone dark. I can’t remember the last time I experienced a storm this intense.
“Wait here.” Noah shouts. He hands me the blanket and disappears into the rain.
I set it out under a large pine tree and take a seat, wrapping my arms around my knees.
Noah emerges from the darkness with a bundle of fabric in his hand. Within moments, he sets up the tarp so it sits on the branches above us.
Hail tears through the forest canopy. Each piece is the size of a dime.
“Take these.” Noah shoves his sweats and leather jacket into my chest. His jaw is tense, his teeth clenched.
“You need them,” I manage through my shivers.
“You need them more.”
He lays the jacket over my shoulders and leaves the sweats at my feet.
I wait a beat and then slip into the clothing. I wrap my arms around my legs once more and my shivers slow. Noah sits at the other end of the blanket and rests his arms on his knees. We watch the world dissolve outside our little fort.
The temperature drops.
And the hail gets larger.
It crashes around us like bullets. A chunk the size of a golf ball rips through our tarp, bringing the pooling water with it.
I cry out.
Noah pulls me to him and wraps himself around me. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
The world flashes and the sky roars. Chunks of hail crash through the canopy, branches cracking and snapping. The trees sway. The wind blows so hard that the hail is coming at us from the side, rather than from straight above.
I curl into Noah and close my eyes.
After what feels like twenty years, the violent sound of hail wanes, dissolves into the steady patter of rain. The storm passes.
I’m still wrapped in Noah’s arms.
“Are you okay?” Noah checks my face, and then runs a hand over my hair and down my back.
I hiccup, still terrified beyond belief. “Ye-yeah.”
Concern sparks in his blue eyes. He wipes a tear from my face. There’s a cut on his cheek. It’s shallow and bright red. Almost like he cut himself shaving.
“You’re bleeding,” I say.
“A piece of hail skimmed me. It’s no big deal.”
The piece of hail is still near his feet. It’s almost the size of a tennis ball, and rough like sandpaper. It tore through the tarp like a butcher knife through butter, and if it had fallen an inch to the left…
I shiver. Not from the cold, but from fear. We stayed in the meadow too long because of me. We got trapped in the storm because of me. Noah was cut because of me.
And he was almost killed.
Because of me.
Noah holds me close and glances towards his bike. The seat is pummeled and split, the body of the bike is banged up, and the windshield is cracked. The side-view mirror I checked on the way here is broken, lying flat on the ground.
“It’s just surface damage. We’ll be able to get back to Legacy and I can fix everything there.” Noah nods to himself. “The important thing is that we’re safe.”
He’s right. The important thing is that we’re safe.
We got lucky.
If we’d listened to me…
Everything that happened to us is my fault. If we’d left when Noah wanted to, we would’ve escaped the storm. Easily. Instead, his bike is destroyed. Because of my recklessness. My stubbornness. If he hadn’t insisted on leaving, would we still be there? Would we be battered by hail, cold, hurt, unconscious — or worse?
My tears fall hard and heavy. My parents were right. I’m too irresponsible. I’m a liability. And the people that suffer are the ones I love.
I can’t do this. I have to end it with Noah before he gets hurt.
50
Bree
Rain falls on the roof of the loft and I groggily open my eyes. Usually, I’d be staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, excited and happy. But today, I’m filled with an aching sense of dread. Every drop crashes like the hail just days ago. I wince at the memory.
I squeeze my eyes shut against another day at Legacy. I’ve tried to stay positive but after what happened during the hailstorm, I can’t. I can’t risk hurting Noah and I’m too much of a coward to break up with him.
He needs to break up with me. And the best way to facilitate this is to show him who I am — not the helpful and supportive Bree he knows, but the worst parts of myself. I’m unreliable and irresponsible. I’ll disappoint him eventually. So why does it hurt so much to see the pain in his eyes when I ‘forget’ to meet him or when I show up late?
Speaking of which… I check the time and see that I’m running late for work. Again.
I get out of bed and stretch. I’ve been sleeping terribly the past few nights and my audiobooks and scary movies can’t even lull me to sleep. I picture a life far from Edendale to get to dreamland. In reality, escaping somewhere else might be my only chance to break free of the labels I’ve adopted.
Wild, irresponsible, careless Bree. Imagine if I could be anyone else.
I change into sweats and a hoodie and stroll to reception. Delia is sitting at my desk, speaking with a young woman and looking frazzled.
“Bree,” Delia says. The young woman looks at me with exhausted frustration. “Ms. Hernandes booked herself into a two bedroom, but she’s in a one bedroom. How’d that happen?”
“It’s not a big deal,” the young woman steps in. Her blue jeans and long sleeve shirt are lightly stained. “I have my toddlers with me and I was hoping for a good night’s sleep, but it’s fine.”
She smiles, but I instantly feel bad for not paying more attention.
“What do you suggest we do?” Delia asks me, her tone patient and unaccusing. It breaks my heart to let her down, but it’s inevitable. I’ll only ev
er disappoint her too.
“Don’t know.” I shrug.
Delia stares at me for a long moment. I lower my gaze, I can’t deal with her sparkling green eyes right now.
“Alright,” Delia concedes, turning back to the computer. “Ms Hernandes, it appears that we do have an empty three bedroom suite. We’d be happy to upgrade you on the house. What do you say?”
Ms. Hernandes smiles radiantly. “That sounds perfect! Thank you.”
Delia checks her in and insists that she’ll help move her bags. Ms. Hernandes nods at me kindly and leaves reception. Delia, on the other hand, shoots me an exasperated look.
I sit at my desk and put on NWR. I’m both disappointed and relieved to hear that this bout of rainfall isn’t accompanied by any severe weather — I’d love to catch a good storm, but the thought of going with Noah fills me with aching sadness.
I stare at the rooming list, but pay no attention. My phone pings and I open the text message, expecting it to be from Isla or someone from Edendale.
Nope. It’s the dreaded Kate.
Hello Aubrey. It was lovely to hear from you a couple of days ago. Your dad and I were beginning to worry. Isla has been letting us know that you’re well, but of course, we’d love to hear it from you.
I wanted to get in touch as Andrew Stewart is back from Saint Tropez. He’s excited to meet with you for your coffee date at the end of the month. Please Aubrey, do be on your best behavior. We’ll be back the next day and I cannot wait to hear about your progress. I’ll send you a few suitable conversation topics in an email.
Love, Mom.
I throw my phone to the side and lay across the desk. I close my eyes while my exhausted mind copes with this. I never got around to telling my mom I won’t be going on the date with Andrew Stewart.
I was too busy being happy.
51
Noah
The Complete Legacy Inn Collection: Four Sweet YA Romances Page 13