by T. L. Haddix
This time, the quiet between them was oppressive.
After what felt like an interminably long silence, he spoke in a low voice. “I had so much anger when I left here. I blamed everyone—you, Eli. Erica.” He spat her name. “Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa even. They made me, gave me the genes that made me a freak. I couldn’t get far enough fast enough. It took nearly every bit of the three years I was gone to let go of that anger, at least toward them. You three?” He sighed. “Evidently, I’m still working on that.”
Needing space and feeling as though he did too, she moved to push the covers back. “I’ll go downstairs.”
Noah grabbed her hand, his grip firm without being hard. “Losing you destroyed a part of me that I’ve never gotten back, Sophie. You moved on. It didn’t work out, but you moved on. I didn’t. I couldn’t. And I don’t know how to separate my anger at her from how I feel about you.”
Sophie’s laugh was bitter as she knelt beside him. “I didn’t move on, you jackass. I settled. I found a nice-enough guy that I cared about, and I settled for what he could give me because that was all I was ever going to have, okay? And in the end, I couldn’t even have that because she wouldn’t let me live in peace. She couldn’t let me have more than she did. So don’t tell me about how much better my life was than yours. You’re a damned idiot if you can’t see the truth.”
Noah scrambled to catch her as she pulled away, and in a fumbling flurry of motion, he was on his knees beside her, her wrists in his hands. “I see very well what she cost you, damn it. What she cost all of us. I just don’t know what to do about it.”
But her anger and fury and hurt had been unleashed, and Sophie was helpless to reel it in. “You don’t know a damned thing. I lost everything because of her. Everything.”
She tried to break free so she could hit him, wanting to lash out in a desperate effort to alleviate the pain, but with tears rising up to choke her, she couldn’t. When she sobbed, Noah released her hands and cupped her face, pushing her hair off her damp cheeks.
“I do see, Sophie. I swear to you I see,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms.
“No, you don’t,” she said with a gasp. “She took my child. She took you, and she took him, and I’m left alone, and I can’t stand it.”
Holding her close, he rocked her as she cried, her heart breaking all over again.
“I know, sweetheart. I know. I’m so sorry.”
His words didn’t even register she was so distraught.
For what felt like hours, Sophie sobbed in his arms. The whole time, Noah held her, rubbing her back, letting her grieve. By the time her storm of emotions was over, she was utterly exhausted.
Noah set a box of tissues on the bed in front of her. “Here you go.”
She grabbed a handful and used them to mop the mess she’d made of her face. As soon as she could see clearly, she headed for the bathroom without a word. Speaking was beyond her capabilities at the moment.
Enough moonlight came in through the high window above the tub that she could see to get a washcloth. After wetting it, she pressed it against her swollen eyes, trying desperately to control her hitching breath. The last thing she wanted to do was hyperventilate, which usually happened when she cried as hard as she just had.
A soft whirring sounded, and she heard the distinctive click of a lamp being turned on.
“Power’s back,” Noah said quietly through the door. “I need to check on things downstairs. I’ll be right back.”
She listened to his footsteps as he left, then she sank to the floor in front of the sink, too weak to stand. She had to pull herself together. And that’s what she’d do just as soon as she found the strength to manage it.
Chapter Nineteen
Noah hurried into the bathroom downstairs to blow his nose and splash water on his face. He didn’t mind if Sophie knew he’d been crying, but he didn’t want to put that additional weight on her right now. And maybe a little part of him didn’t want her to know.
Besides, he really did need to run through the first floor and make sure everything that needed to be turned off was.
He’d just finished checking the kitchen and restarting the dishwasher, with a worried Fig’s assistance, when Sophie came downstairs. He met her at the bottom of the steps, and she stopped on the last one, putting them at eye-level with each other. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
When she saw his T-shirt, a tremulous smile crossed her lips, and she touched him briefly. “You’re soggy. I’m sorry.”
Noah glanced at the large damp spot where her tears had soaked the fabric then back up at her with a lopsided grin. “You could give me your shirt as a replacement.”
Her quick laugh bubbled up. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth, then she clenched it and lowered it to her neck. “I’m sorry about that. The last thing you expected when you offered me hospitality was to get stuck with an emotional wreck.”
Taking a chance, he slowly lifted his hands to her face. “I’m sorry you were hurt,” he whispered. “So damned sorry. Especially for my part in the pain. I should have done better by you.” He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.
A moment later, her soft hands came up to trace his cheekbones, wiping away the dampness beneath his eyes. “How did you know about the baby? Did Eli tell you?”
He pulled back and studied her, trying to figure out how to answer. “Partly. Do you… do you remember the sprite? The little creature from the night we stargazed?”
She nodded.
Noah didn’t say anything else, just waited.
“Oh.” She stared at him. “That… oh. Did you know then?”
“No. Not until later that night. It came back. He? He came back with Moira, and she helped me see. Then I asked Eli the next day what the heck was going on, and he told me.”
Her smile was sad. “I don’t know if it was a boy or a girl. It was too early. I was only six weeks along. But I always felt like he was a boy. So… he.” She glanced at her hands, which she’d clasped between them. “Do you think he’ll come back?”
He brushed back her hair. “I don’t know. If he does, do you want me to tell you?”
She nodded. “Please?”
“Of course. I promise.” Noah placed a soft kiss at her temple. “We should probably try to get some rest.”
“Probably.” She looked at the couch. “I can stay down here if you want me to.”
“I want you to be comfortable. That’s the noble part of me. The selfish part wants you in my bed. Just so I can hold you,” he clarified. “After what we just went through, I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want you to be alone. I need you with me.”
She bit her lip, her eyes wary as she assessed him. “Okay. Um, can I get another water? Since I basically cried that whole bottle out onto your shirt,” she said with a tiny glint of humor.
“Absolutely. I could use another one myself. Cold or warm, since the power’s back on and we have the choice?”
“Cold, please.”
Drinks in hand, they made their way back upstairs, Fig accompanying them every step of the way. He grabbed a clean T-shirt and quickly changed into it. Sophie took the spot she’d had in the bed, and Noah climbed in beside her, then he held out his arm. With a harsh sigh, she snuggled up against him. He turned out the light, breathing a silent prayer of thanks as he adjusted the covers around them.
“Hmm, what in the world?” she asked softly as Fig settled behind her.
He thought she meant the cat, but then she pointed up.
“Stars?”
Noah cleared his throat. “Um, well, yes.”
The ceiling was dotted with tiny glowing specks he’d applied in a random pattern. The result wasn’t quite realistic, but it provided enough of a notion
of the sky that it soothed him somewhat on sleepless nights.
“They’re nice.”
“Thanks. Eli got quite a kick out of his room on his first night here. That used to be my room, remember. His reaction was something along the lines of ‘What in the bloody hell is that?’”
He’d also gently teased Noah when he put the stars on the loft’s ceiling a few weeks after Eli’d moved in, after Noah discovered he couldn’t sleep without them.
“He just needs to expand his horizons,” Sophie said in a drowsy voice, patting his chest. “Everybody needs stars on the ceiling.”
“Exactly,” Noah whispered. He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “I should have known you’d understand.”
He wanted to stay awake, to memorize how holding her felt, but he felt himself falling asleep before he even was aware of it, comforted by her presence in a way he’d not felt in years. Maybe ever. At least not since he was a teenager and Sophie was his world.
As he made that final drop off into slumber, one last thought crossed his mind—he was falling hard and fast back in love with her. And unlike in the past when the idea would have terrified him, he embraced it.
Chapter Twenty
Sophie woke before Noah the next morning. As soon as she’d gotten comfortable, she’d gone to sleep, and she didn’t think she’d moved except to roll over. Noah was wrapped around her from behind. She closed her eyes, savoring their closeness. She didn’t want to move, but at the same time, she wanted to stretch like a cat, turn over, and have her way with him.
She didn’t quite know how he would take that, and she wasn’t brave enough to find out.
As she came fully awake, she thought about the emotional cleansing they’d done the night before. Given the content of their discussion, maybe purging would have been a better word. Or exorcising. An image of Noah’s face, a snapshot taken from the moment when he’d told her that losing her had destroyed part of him, flashed through her mind.
Against her better judgment, she believed him.
The little devil that followed her around and perched on her shoulder whispered in her ear, “You’re just setting yourself up for more heartbreak, you foolish woman.”
This time, instead of heeding it’s warning, she examined her fear. She wasn’t going in blind as she’d done with her mother. She wasn’t deliberately ignoring the warning signs as she’d done with Eddie. And as painful a process as it was, she was learning to talk to Noah—okay, kind of—about their past.
None of that was a guarantee she wouldn’t get hurt again.
Another snapshot from the night before played through her mind, this time of Noah’s dismay when she’d declared she wasn’t going to Lexington for Christmas. Even though she’d buried her head in the sand, she knew Eli well enough to be assured that his reaction would have been similar to his brother’s.
She gave a silent groan. As much as she’d wanted to hold herself apart from the Campbells, she was already enmeshed in the family in a hundred different ways. So much for saying a slow good-bye.
Noah’s breathing changed, a slow sigh that eased over her shoulder, tickling the fine hairs on the nape of her neck.
“Mmm, soft.” His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her into him as he burrowed his face in the curve of her neck. “Softer than Fig.”
A bubble of husky laughter surprised her. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are. Always were so damned soft,” he murmured against her skin. “Sophie the Soft. Am I dreaming?”
“No. Am I?” She covered his hand with hers, lacing their fingers together, and brought their joined hands up to her chest.
“If you are, don’t wake up. I like this dream.” He nuzzled her ear. “I’ve had it a thousand times. I’m afraid to open my eyes. You’ve never felt quite this real before though.”
Needing to see him, Sophie rolled over. Sure enough, his eyes were closed. She laid her hands on his cheeks, letting his stubble abrade her palms. “Have you ever grown a beard?” She slid her leg between his, getting as close as she could.
“Mmm, once or twice.” A smile played over his lips. Still, he kept his eyes shut. “Why?”
She traced the line where the stubble ended on his cheek. “I just think it’d be interesting to see, that’s all. Are you going to open your eyes?”
That got her a full grin but still no look at his warm hazel irises. “No.”
Determined to make him look at her, she trailed her fingers over his thick, indecently long eyelashes and the faint dimples that bracketed his mouth, then she dropped her hands to his belly to tickle him.
That did it.
His eyes flew open with surprise as he grunted and grabbed her hands. “Oh, no. You are not doing that. No Mad Tickler this morning.”
The nickname from years earlier made her smile. In a move he’d used on her when they were kids and she’d provoked him—deliberately, her intention to elicit that exact move—he had her arms out to her sides, and he was on top of her, braced on his elbows, his hips cradled between her legs.
She was more than happy to lie there and laugh at him, just relishing the feel of his body against hers. She wrapped her legs around his. “See, I told you you weren’t dreaming. This doesn’t ever happen in them, does it?”
His eyes softened as he gazed at her. “Yeah, it does. Good morning, Sophie Turner.”
When she tugged on her hands, he let them go. “Good morning, Noah Campbell.” She ran her fingers through his hair, curling the tresses on the sides back behind his ears. “Do you dream about us a lot?”
He nodded. “You?”
She swallowed hard against the heartache. “Oh, yes.”
“So what do you dream about?” he whispered.
“All sorts of wicked, sweet things.” Her breath caught at the look on his face.
The heat their bodies were producing had nothing to do with actual body temperature and everything to do with proximity. His arousal was blatant, and she shifted her hips to better situate him against the notch where she most wanted him. Her breath caught at the deliciousness of the intimate contact.
Noah’s cheeks flushed. “Very much of that and Fig’s going to get an education she’s never been exposed to. And I’m not complaining, in case you wondered. Just pointing that out.”
“Fig?”
He nodded and glanced at the nightstand.
Sophie followed his gaze, her eyes widening when she saw the cat sitting stoically on the nightstand, watching them with a mix of curiosity and boredom. “Oops.”
“That’s one way to put it.” He laughed as he kissed her jawline softly. “It’s past her breakfast time. I’m surprised she didn’t wake us up. I can’t believe we slept until seven. I should go feed her, but I don’t want to move.”
“I don’t want you to move.” Sophie tightened her legs around his so that she could lace her ankles together behind his hips. “Well, I do want you to move, but not away from me.”
She heard him swallow.
“Are we really ready for that? I hate myself for asking, by the way. Just in case you wondered,” he admitted with a groan as he let his head drop to her shoulder.
Sophie nuzzled his cheek with hers. “Probably not. And I hate myself for answering.”
Fig stepped delicately onto the bed, one front paw slowly extending in front of the other as she stretch-walked her way over to butt her head against Noah’s shoulder with a loud purr.
“I’m guessing that translates roughly to ‘feed me, Daddy,’ doesn’t it?”
He grabbed one of Fig’s ears and gently tugged, then he scratched her chin. “Oh, yeah. She starts to bite if that doesn’t work.” With a grumbling sigh, he leveraged off Sophie and stood, looking down at himself with a disgruntled expression. “I’ll be back. Need anything? Coffee
? I can have it ready in a couple of minutes.”
“That’d be nice.”
She curled her hands into the sheets as he went downstairs, trying to remind herself she was a grown-ass woman who was in control of her body, not vice versa, and she really, really didn’t need to follow him and tackle him in the kitchen. Given how tempting the idea sounded, she decided getting into the bathroom might be her wisest move.
“I hate adulting sometimes,” she called. His answering laugh followed her as she closed the bathroom door.
Aside from a brief, ill-advised fling she’d had after moving to Florida and starting to work for her mother, she’d always been careful about who she let into her bed. With Erica as the perfect living example of what not to do, being cautious hadn’t been difficult. Plus, it had taken Sophie years after Noah left to drum up the least bit of interest in any man. She’d been a virgin when she met Eddie.
But her body and Noah’s? They seemed to communicate on a level entirely above anything she’d felt with anyone. And now that she was a responsible adult, she found it difficult to come up with a single reason why she shouldn’t just do whatever she damn well pleased.
As she washed up, brushing her teeth with her finger, what he’d said about Fig getting an education came back to her. How had he put it? “An education she’s never been exposed to…”
Sophie stared at her reflection, trying to puzzle out what he’d meant. “Surely it’s just that he never has women here.”
Now that the fire of her curiosity was lit, she would have to work up the nerve to ask him. She had no desire to hear about his previous sexual experiences, but she needed to know what he’d meant.
Chapter Twenty-One