Gloria shook her head.
“Let’s go see the series with you and me. It’s in there to the right. I might be wrong, but I think more people have stopped to look at it than any of the other portraits.”
Norah’s jaw clenched tight and she drew a big breath through her nose, clutching the glass in her hand so tightly she was sure it would shatter.
“How about we wait ‘til the room clears out a bit? Did I smell food?”
Her aunt gave her a look.
“What?” she said with an innocent shrug. “Jellybean is always hungry. Tonight is no different.”
Gloria chuckled, but squeezed her arm. “You should talk to him, dear. I’ve never seen him look so distraught. But if Jellybean needs to eat, she needs to eat.”
*
Banks might have been imagining it, but it sure as hell seemed like Norah was avoiding him. He couldn’t blame her all the way. He’d given her radio silence since she’d left the hospital the day of the baby shower. Inside the hospital, it was easy to only see the immediate concern of Nan’s condition and nothing else.
He couldn’t blame her if she was pissed, if she never wanted to talk to him again. Hell, he was half pissed at himself for what he’d done to her. She didn’t deserve it.
She did deserve an apology. And he wanted to see if there was anything they could salvage after his royal assery. The only thing he knew was he wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but his brother’s words sunk deep in his brain, and in his heart, and when he’d tried to go to sleep that night, they ran through his head. Norah’s my person. When Nate put it that way, it made sense. He needed her and he would make room in his life for her.
He started across the floor to Norah, only to get pulled aside by Franny Jenkins, asking after Nan. She’d tried her damnedest to get a day pass but Dr. Fields hadn’t relented. In the end, she’d called Lily and made her promise to leave the exhibit up until she could jailbreak herself and get there to see it with her own two eyes. Dr. Fields had mentioned tomorrow and he was sure she’d be bolt upright at 6am without any prompting, waiting for the discharge nurse.
Distracted, Banks answered Franny, but kept note of where Norah was. She’d ducked away when she saw him coming, but he could see her further out in the room, near the refreshments. Gloria was introducing her to one of the other residents and she must have felt his eyes because she glanced, just for the tiniest millisecond, over her shoulder at him, but looked away just the minute she realized it was him looking. He couldn’t not look. Being at the hospital with Nan’s hand in his made it easy to think that it was the right decision to get rid of that complication, but being in the same building, within eyesight, he felt pulled to her, like he couldn’t control it. Maybe he was fueled by Nate’s words the night before, but it blurred the line about whether what he’d done was the right thing to do.
He’d never doubted himself the way he did with Norah in the picture. It was uncomfortable. He’d always felt confident and sure when he made decisions, and it made him feel proud and worthy to do his job. Now he waffled and wavered. Stuttered and stopped. Because of her. Because now it felt like he had something to lose, and that something was likely her.
He finally pried himself out of Franny’s grip and headed out toward the lobby. Careful not to make eye contact with any of the people he saw notice him coming. When he did it accidentally, he just nodded with a friendly smile and kept going, with new resolve to be undeterred from his mission.
He saw Norah’s back stiffen when he approached and he hated it. Just like he’d hated last night, alone in his bed. He’d spoken to Nan just before heading up for the night, offering to come one more night, only to be told that if he showed up, she’d tell the nurses to lock the door. Physically, his own bed was more comfortable than the weird armchair-turned-single-cot they’d pulled from the maternity ward for him, but emotionally was another story altogether.
She didn’t turn around, but Gloria looked up, catching his eye. She offered him a warm smile—she’d always been fond of him—and touched Norah’s arm. He cleared his throat. After a long moment, she turned, her expression unreadable.
She looked good. Better than he felt, that was certain. In a dress that hugged every curve of her soft body, and stretched over a belly that seemed to have grown since he’d seen her last. Her hair was loose and shiny, she’d done her make-up and she was wearing the little horseshoe he’d given her.
“Norah,” he started, hat in his hands. “I was wondering if you would spare a few minutes to talk with me, in private?”
A million expressions flickered in her eyes as she absorbed his words. He held his breath. There was that doubt again. It itched.
She glanced around her as if looking for someone to give her an excuse, but Gloria had already shrunken back to the punch bowl, leaving them alone. Finally, she cleared her throat, tipped her chin up bravely like he’d seen her do a dozen times, and then tipped it down again. A barely perceptible nod. She didn’t want to say yes, and he didn’t blame her. But he was grateful.
*
Banks guided them away from the crowd toward the reception area with his fingers touching the small of her back. This was what she had wanted since the hospital—his touch, his time—but it felt hot, and too intense. She didn’t want it if it didn’t mean she had him again. She was certain the only thing coming was a letdown.
The dimly lit reception area had a loveseat and a little table with a lamp and a rubber plant off to one side, in a private alcove. She was grateful when he didn’t sit. This was painful enough without having to sit so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body.
He looked distinctly uncomfortable, like he didn’t know where to start.
She did.
“Banks…” she started, when even a second of silence felt like too much. If he was going to deal her another devastating blow, she hoped he’d just get it over with. Rip off the Band-Aid. “If this is about work or the apartment, or whatever, can you just get on with it?”
His brow furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“If I have to find new work or move, just tell me now so I can get a move on.”
“…What? Jesus Norah, I’m not firing you or evicting you.”
She cleared her throat, straightened. Her heart slowed a pace or two.
“What would give you that idea?” he pressed.
His confusion was a gut punch. What had transpired between them the hospital had been catastrophic for her, but it barely registered that he’d put her in fear for the stability of her job or her living arrangements. Of course, as the sheriff he’d be able to take the high road, carry on a professional relationship as if nothing had happened between them at all. As if standing this close to him didn’t make her ache for him to hold her like he had not that long ago. He’d been such a big part of her world and she’d been a mere distraction.
“I just figured it would be too much of a distraction for me to be in the office. In your Nan’s house.” Her hurt constricted her throat so every word was a struggle.
A range of emotions swept across his features. Surprise, anger, remorse.
“Oh, Norah.” His voice held the weight of regret, but she didn’t buy it. Couldn’t.
Silence stretched between them now as he seemed to search for words, a deep crease between his brows. She had lots, she just couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t cry if she forced them out, and she didn’t need to feel any smaller in front of him.
“I made a mistake. A big one. You’re not a distraction, Norah, you’re an anchor.”
Norah’s stomach hurt. Over the summer, she’d watched him judiciously make decisions, weighing every option. He never took a step without seeming to know what the tenth step after that would be. Banks Montgomery didn’t make mistakes. Except her.
Still, the tiniest flicker of hope deep in her chest surprised her.
“You don’t make mistakes.”
His face twisted a bit, an unreadable em
otion crossing his features.
“I’ve given you the idea that I don’t make mistakes. I try my best not to, but I’ve made one now, and it might be the worst one I’ve made since I was a young buck who didn’t know what I was doing. Hell, if nothing else, this summer has shown me I still don’t know what I’m doing at all. If I did, I would never have done what I did to you.”
Tears flooded her vision.
“You hurt me, Banks. It took time to decide to trust you. And when things got hard, you tossed me aside like I was trash. That’s a hard one to reconcile.”
He drew a big breath, and she heard a tremor in it.
“I know I hurt you. I wasn’t thinking clearly when Nan was sick, I panicked and my knee-jerk reaction was to narrow everything down to her. I’m not proud of it, and I don’t want this mess I made. I want you. So I hope you’ll give me a chance to make it up to you. I understand if you can’t, but the damn truth, Norah, is that my life is better—richer, fuller, brighter—with you and that’s the life I want us to have together. The one where food tastes better, and the sun shines brighter, and kisses taste sweeter.”
He reached out to take her hand and she let him, her heart so tight in her chest she wasn’t sure it was still beating. He clasped it in both of his, his rough fingertips tracing over the backs of her fingers. She wanted to close the space between them and let him take her in his arms, but something held her back and she couldn’t find the words yet, so he continued.
“You made me realize what it feels like to love somebody. It makes me vulnerable and I’m not used to that. It scared the hell out of me, if I’m telling the whole truth. But the whole truth is also that I love you, Norah Clarke, and I wanna be with you, and Jellybean, always. I wanna love you both with my whole heart, take care of you, keep you safe, and make sure you have everything you need and deserve. And I will spend as much time as it takes to prove that to you and help you to trust me again.”
Damn hormones. She could feel the burn of tears rising up, and wished she wouldn’t. But there they were, unbidden.
“I need to know if you’re going to be with us that you’re going to be there, not running scared,” she said, surprised when her voice remained steady. He squeezed her hand, pulled her a little closer.
“I know. And I will be. I promise. Whatever you need me to do to prove it, I will. I’ll probably mess up a million times. But I’m anchored to you. If the last few days taught me anything, it’s that you’re already a huge part of the fabric of my life, and I don’t want it any other way.”
“What about all of your responsibilities?”
“I’ll make it work. Nan’s about to excommunicate me anyways. Seriously, you keep me on track with work, and I suspect the horses are gonna be a big part of your life, too. Someone misses you, by the way. Sassy little filly.”
Sailor. She missed the horse almost as much as she missed Banks. It would be easy to just say yes, fall back into it, and deal with what happened when it happened. But she was a mother now, just months away from being responsible for a small human and her heart, too.
“We don’t have to go any faster than we’re already going,” he said when she didn’t respond right away. “We can rewind a little, even. Just tell me I don’t have to figure out how to exist in this town without you in my life. Tell me you can forgive me.”
His sincerity was written all over his face. She let out a long breath and the vise that had been holding her heart loosened a little.
“I’m scared,” she admitted, before she even realized she was saying it.
“I know it’s scary to trust me again. I’m scared too; I never wanna hurt you like this again. We can be scared together, and grow from it.”
She took the step to close the remaining space between them, and he pulled her close, burying his face against her hair. She melted into him as easily as butter on a hot knife.
“I meant every word,” he said against her hair.
“The first bit too? The part about loving me. And Jellybean,” she asked, pulling back to look at him.
A smile cracked his features and he tugged her closer, his fingers massaging at the small of her back. A shiver—the good kind—moved through her, and every tense part of her body she’d been holding relaxed, like they were all fitting into the places they belonged.
“Especially that part. Maybe that part more than all the others.”
She held her breath for a second, an overwhelming bloom of emotion threatening to wash her away.
“I love you too, Banks. We have a lot of work to do but I think that’s a pretty damn good starting point.”
—FORTY-SIX—
Banks pulled his truck up in front of Nan’s apartment and looked across the cab to Norah. He’d quietly asked Layla to bring Nan’s car later on, just for the chance to spend a little more one on one time with Norah. The days they’d spent apart felt like eons. If the fifteen minute ride back to Nan’s place was all he got, he was happy for that but she didn’t climb right out, either. She was sitting, looking at her hands, her fingers twisted together.
He hoped she wasn’t feeling regret. He knew from experience that was a sorry place to be, a feeling you couldn’t ever settle with, and though he’d said his piece, done all he could do, his own regret was still only just edging out of his system. He reached across the space between them and touched her knee lightly. She angled toward him. They’d made small talk on the drive over, casual chitchat he would have had with just about anyone, but it was enough for him. She’d have questions, eventually, concerns he would have to address. He would dig into those when she was ready but he’d let her set the pace when it came to that.
The quiet stretched between them until it was just about uncomfortable, and then she swallowed and looked up.
“Do you wanna come in?”
Do I ever, he thought. By his estimation, proximity was the way to resolve their problem, but he would wait to see what she felt would make it better. For the first time in ages, he was going to let someone else take the reins of control, dictate how things went. It was vulnerable, but he was going to have to learn how to be that way in this relationship.
“Only if you want me to,” he finally said, hoping she would want him to.
She paused for a moment.
“I do.”
She reached for the door handle then, and he was two steps ahead of her to help her down out of the truck. Instead of brushing off his help this time, she smiled, thanked him, and led him toward the apartment, unlocking the door and letting them in.
The crib had been pushed to one side of the room and most of the shower presents he’d carried down for her sat untouched in their bags.
“I got a bit overwhelmed,” she said, sounding apologetic.
It hurt his heart a little. “I’ll help you sort through everything, eventually,” he said. “But first…”
He tugged her into his arms, something he’d been aching to do for hours, since he’d seen her walk into Lily’s show. She melted right into his arms, her soft curves plying to him. He slid a hand down her back to rest just at the swell of her backside. He’d missed having her body close to his almost as much as he’d missed having her heart close to his.
She looped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder and they swayed to silent music for a moment in the living room, reconnecting at that very base level. He rested his lips against her hairline, savoring her scent, and the way she felt in his arms—always the same, softening into him until the line where their bodies met was a suggestion, not a rule.
“I missed you,” she breathed as he stroked her hair.
“I missed you too,” he said, a little surprised when emotion choked up his voice a bit. Nan had been right. She always was. Already, everything felt fuller and brighter, and he knew he’d have to do some work to earn her full trust again, but he wouldn’t stop until they were stronger than they’d ever been. “I won’t ever do anything like this to you again.”
She squeezed him just a bit tighter in return. He sought her mouth then, tipping her chin up so he could taste her, all sweet and just a little salt—that was his fault. He drew away for a moment to take in her face, those cheeks that had flushed so many times at his comments. He cupped her jaw and stroked her cheek with his thumb, letting out a long breath. This. This was right where he belonged. Right where she belonged.
Then he got kicked. He chuckled, prying just enough space between them that he could drop his hand down to the curve of her belly. “I swear this child has grown since I’ve seen you last.”
She nodded. “Tell me about it when she’s got her feet up in your ribs.”
“Quit giving your momma trouble,” he said, bending to speak to her bump.
“Yeah, your dad is giving me all the trouble I can handle,” she said with a laugh.
The word hung, pointed, in the air between them for a moment before Banks smiled, tugged her close, and gave her a little spin.
“I like how that sounds. Dad.”
—FORTY-SEVEN—
Norah felt Banks’ warmth at her back when she woke. His arm draped over her waist and Jellybean was already awake, moving around. Since she knew she wasn’t about to get back to sleep, she turned over to get a good look at him. One hand on her belly, she watched him breathe and dream. All those extra deep lines she’d noticed at the hospital seemed to be smoothing back out. They had a long road ahead of them, but at least they would be traveling it together—that was the most important part.
She thought of his reaction to dad the night before. It had slipped right out before she’d even realized it was coming. There had definitely been moments before their time apart that she’d thought of him as Jellybean’s dad. He’d encouraged it with his talk of their future, by showing up for all the things a dad would show up for. Months earlier, when she’d taken a pregnancy test in a dirty gas station bathroom so Rob wouldn’t know, and gotten that little plus sign, her heart had been full of turmoil, and now, here, she felt peace, comfort, and optimism about her future. She knew that she and Jellybean would always be safe, warm, and fed, which was more than she could have guaranteed before she got to Three Rivers. And it was because of Banks and his family and their generosity, kindness, and friendship. She couldn’t have asked for more.
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