I walk over to her and hand her the tall, cool glass. “It’s okay. She’s just been through a lot, and I want her to have every chance possible to be able to dance again.”
I start to clean up the mess in the kitchen from last night when I hear her sigh. “Seriously, Noah, you are like the sweetest guy I know. I’m so jealous.” I pause briefly at her admission as I toss the shriveled-up limes into the trash.
“Coen’s a lucky guy to have you, Dill. He should have landed by now, right?”
I don’t hear a reply, so I turn and look. She’s picking at her nails, and I know from living with this girl for a few weeks now that she’s got something on her mind.
Finally, she shrugs. “Probably.”
“Probably? What’s going on?”
She leans back and puts her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head, before she takes the Advil and sets the glass down.
“I don’t really think he’s wanting anything out of our relationship,” she replies and puts her forehead in her palm.
Ah fuck, please don’t cry.
“I’ll be honest with you, Dillen. I’ve known Coen for roughly eight years now, and I’ve never seen him so enamored with anyone before. He’s a ‘fuck and dump’ kind of asshole who gets all the pussy he wants. That was until he met you, and he hasn’t bragged about a woman to me since.”
She cradles her chin in her hand. “Really?”
I shrug and nod. “Yeah, but you seem rather uninterested.”
“No, I’m interested. I just . . .”
I have to chuckle.
“What?” she prods.
I shake my head and grin. “You females overanalyze everything.” That gets a smile out of her, and she throws the bottle of Advil at my chest.
“Oh shut up.”
“It’s the damn truth, and you know it.”
“No, it’s not.”
I laugh when she refuses to admit the truth. “Okay . . . whatever you say.” I shake my head and pour some juice for Heather.
“I think I’m going to tell him we’re over.”
I’m thrown for a loop by her words. The juice almost overflows in the glass but I stop pouring as soon as I notice. “Excuse me? What the hell did you say? You know that I can’t un-hear that, right?”
I look up, and she just stares at me while chewing on her lip.
Well fuck me.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He never alluded to the fact that he wanted exclusivity,” she replies and fidgets with her glass.
I put the carton of orange juice away and turn back around, racking my brain for the right thing to say. “I’m sure he’ll miss you.”
She winces and is about to speak when we both turn at the sound of Heather’s voice.
“What are you guys doing up?” she asks, and I take in her appearance.
Fuck, she looks cute as hell hung over. Her hair is just as wild as Dillen’s was, and her eyes are just as tired. She makes her way over to the island with the help of her crutches, and I remember how angry I was with their little stunt.
“Good morning, trouble.” I walk over and kiss the top of her head before setting the glass and Advil down in front of her.
I swear she’s about to complain when I raise my eyebrow, challenging her. Her shoulders slump and she lays her head on the cool countertop. “Heather, let me get the boot on your foot.”
“Okay . . .” she replies begrudgingly and sits up. I walk over with the boot and kneel down in front of her, carefully putting it back on.
I make sure it’s on correctly, just as the doctor showed me, and I stand back up. “Does that feel all right?”
She looks down at it, and I see a hint of disgust on her face. “Yes, it’s fine.”
I watch as she glances over at Dillen when she asks Heather, “Do you remember last night? We got in a LOT of trouble.” Dillen snickers before she drinks her juice.
Heather shrugs her shoulders, and I know today isn’t going to be a good day. I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head.
Dillen laughs, and her eyes are bright with mischief. “Do you want to do it again tonight?” she asks Heather excitedly “Oh, and I’m breaking up with Coen,” she adds, like it’s the best thing she’s decided on in a decade.
“What?” Heather shrieks and looks from me to her friend.
I shrug and shake my head. “Don’t look at me, ballerina. I want nothing to do with this.”
“I don’t think that we’d get anywhere fast, little shit. Plus, I’d rather go out and have some fun.”
I can see the confusion in Heather’s eyes as she looks at Dillen. “Oh . . . I . . . really? Are you sure, Dill? I mean, he really, really likes you.”
“I’m sure,” Dillen says without hesitation.
Heather looks over at me with a worried expression on her face, and I shrug.
“I’m going to shower and then head to practice, so I’ll see the two of you later?” Dillen asks as she walks toward her room.
“Okay, Dill,” Heather replies in her soft voice, and I take the seat next to her, angling myself to face her.
I reach over and move her hair behind her ear. “Ballerina?”
“Yeah?”
“Last night before I went to bed, I got a phone call from Ellery Somer. I didn’t answer because I wasn’t sure of what to say. It went to voicemail, and I haven’t listened to the message she left me either. I was hoping you’d listen to it first?”
I watch as her eyes widen with surprise. “Oh. I . . . of course, but . . . are you sure? I mean, don’t you want to hear her before I do?”
I get off of the barstool and offer her my hand. “No, I need you to do this for me, please.”
“Okay . . .” She seems to be as nervous as I am.
We walk into her bedroom and shut the door behind us. I unplug my phone from where it’s charging and hand it to her. I watch her look at my phone, and then she does something I’ve never seen her do. She turns her back on me.
HEATHER
Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.
Okay, don’t panic.
You knew this was coming.
I chant to myself internally as I bring his phone to my ear.
I have to turn my back because I know my face will give me away as soon as I hear her.
“Hi, Noah, this is Ellery Somer, your . . .” She clears her throat. “Uhm, I just wanted to call and let you know that Henry and I are notably looking forward to speaking with you.” She pauses and takes in a shaky breath. I can hear a man whisper for her to go on in the background.
“We-we would love for you to come and visit with us, darling. Please feel free to call at any time of the day. We cannot wait see you again.” Her voice is so genuine and just like I remembered. I find myself smiling and tearing up just hearing that voice again.
“I cannot tell you what it means to me to just hear your voice.” She pauses again, and I hear a rustling before his voice comes on the line.
“Noah, it’s Henry.” He sighs but also chuckles, and it broadens my smile. “You’ll have to excuse Ellery, as she is a bit emotional. Give us a call whenever you’d like. Have a good evening.”
The message ends, and I pull the phone away from my ear as I turn back around to face him. I look up into Noah’s expectant eyes as he searches my face for answers.
I smile and hand him his phone. “Noah, they’re wonderful.”
“Yeah? What did they say?” he asks as he stares down at the phone in his large tanned hand.
“They can’t wait to talk to you.” I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand. I’m so happy for him; he has no idea just how amazing they are.
His almost-smile turns into a frown as he watches me wipe my tears away. “Heather, what is it?”
I shake my head and beam up at him. “Nothing. I’m just really happy for you. You’re finally going to get to meet your parents, Noah.” I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist, and dwell in his warmth.
“You’re sti
ll coming with me, right?” His arms move around me, and I breathe in his clean scent.
I nod against his chest and grip at the back of his shirt. The turmoil I feel inside is excruciating. “Noah?” My heart is racing, and if I don’t tell him now, it’ll only be worse later on.
“What is it, beautiful?”
It’s now that I remember the picture I have in my purse. The one I’ve carried around for as long as I can remember. I look up at him and let go before looking around the room for my purse.
I hear Dillen yell out, “Bye guys, be home tonight.” And then the front door slams shut.
“Bye,” Noah says, but by the sound of his voice he’s more interested in what I’m doing.
I leave the confines of our bedroom and search for my purse in the kitchen. I have nothing else on my mind but finding that picture, and I barely register him calling my name. I finally find my purse and look up at him, his broad shoulders framed by the white doorframe.
“I need to show you something . . .”
I’m shuddering. I don’t know him well enough to know how he’ll react. He may leave me, and I wouldn’t blame him—this isn’t the kind of secret I should have kept. But what are the odds? Out of all the people in the world . . . ?
He walks up behind me, snaking his arm around my waist. “Heather? What’s wrong?”
I fumble in my bag and start tossing things, searching for my wallet. My hands shake when I find it, and I can’t even open it. It feels like a thousand pounds in my hands. I can feel my heart beating against my rib cage, and I’m having a hard time calming down.
“Baby? Talk to me, please?” He presses his lips to my shoulder, silently telling me that he loves me.
I turn, and he lets go of me. Before I chicken out, I take his hand and lead him to the couch. I can’t even look at him as I sit on the edge. I force my body to turn and face him, my hands clenching my wallet as I take a huge breath.
“Okay, so I have this picture . . .” I trail off and open my wallet and find it hidden behind my driver’s license. I pull it out and look at the infant in the picture. Before I can say another word, his finger is under my chin, tilting it up and forcing me to look at him. His smile is heartbreaking because I know it won’t be there for long.
“I know, Heather, I’ve seen it. I had to look for your license when you were in the hospital, and I saw it.”
I swallow hard and shake my head.
He pulls me onto his lap and nuzzles my neck. “Is that your mother? I know you miss her, baby.”
My voice is only a whisper when I reply. “No . . . it’s not me.”
I feel his body stiffen, and he pulls away from my neck. The tears that threaten are stinging my eyes, and I can feel his storm brewing.
His voice is tight when he replies, “That’s your baby?”
He moves me off his lap. God, why is this so hard to tell him. I can’t even look him in the eye.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had had a child, Heather?” He sits there and rubs his hand through his hair and over his ridged jaw.
“Dammit, Heather . . . how could you keep that from me?”
I refuse to look up and meet his eyes. I can hear his breathing quicken, and I know for a fact that he’s upset. A tear trails down my cheek, and I shake my head. How could he think it’s mine? Finally, I look up. His face is masked of all emotion as he stares across the room and focuses on anything but me.
“Noah, it’s not my child.”
No, he’s wrong. It’s not mine, but I don’t have the words. I can’t find a single one, so I simply shake my head as I turn the photograph over in my hand and stare at the beautiful handwriting that gives the picture its age, April 3, 1985.
“It’s not yours?” he asks, yet his voice sounds accusatory.
“No.” I hand him the photo and wait. I watch him take it, and his eyes roam over the picture.
“Okay, Heather, then tell me who . . .” He stops speaking as soon as he sees the date written in Ellery’s handwriting. He’s silent for the longest time, and I’m praying he doesn’t get up and leave. Surely he’s figured it out now, and maybe I won’t have to say the words.
“How did you get this photograph, Heather?”
I look down at the floor and focus my eyes on my boot, trying to avoid looking up at him while I tell him my secret. “I took it when I was twelve. I was with them for three months before Dani turned eighteen and she was legally able to be my guardian. My parents had just died and they—the Somers—had lost a child years before, a boy, born on April third, 1985. I-I know who your parents are, Noah.”
Guilt floods my blood, and I think I’m going to pass out. I should have told him weeks ago. My heart is pumping the spoken secret through my veins faster than I thought I could ever feel. I can’t breathe, but somehow I manage to look up at him. I think he’s stopped breathing entirely as he tries to absorb everything.
“Your parents were my foster parents, Noah.”
His face is blank and completely devoid of emotion. He sits back against the couch cushions and stares at the wall at the far end of the room. “You know them?”
“I used to. I . . .” His eyes narrow slightly and I can honestly say I have no idea what he’s thinking. “When I left . . . I never went back. I haven’t seen them since Dani got custody of me.”
“Since you were twelve?” I think he’s trying to make sense of all of this information, information that I should have shared with him as soon as I saw that picture of Henry. His smoky voice interrupts my thoughts. “And they know you’re with me?”
I shake my head adamantly. “No. No, I lost touch with them. I haven’t spoken to them since . . .” I trail off, feeling ashamed at how long it’s been.
“Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve been second-guessing myself for weeks, and you just . . . fuck.”
He shifts and gets up from the couch. He runs his fingers through his hair, and I watch as his muscles move under his lightweight V-neck. When his fingers reach the back of his neck, he grabs a fistful of the material and pulls it up and over his head.
“I need to shower,” he says quickly and balls the shirt up in his hands as he retreats to the bathroom connected to our bedroom.
I feel like I can’t move. I just watched him walk away from me, and I can’t even summon the courage to go after him. I knew this would happen; Dani even knew it would. She warned me that he would be pissed. I guess that’s why I kept it a secret for so long. I don’t even know if I’ll ever be able to make him understand.
I hear the water turn on, and I will myself to stand up. I hobble into the room and shut the door behind me, making sure to lock it because the last thing I want is Dillen barging in here. I slowly take my boot off and then my clothes. I stand and make my way over to the open bathroom door and walk in. I’m exposed, completely.
He needs to know that I didn’t mean for this to hurt him. I just . . . I was in shock, and by the time I got past the shock, I realized I wanted him to have a family, the one he never got to have. I had my parents for twelve years, but he barely had his for a day. Salty tears mar my face as I stand in front of the shower door. I’m trying to avoid applying any weight to my fragile foot when I step inside, holding onto anything I can. His back is turned toward me, and I watch as his muscles stiffen when he realizes I’m close. I swallow my guilt and wrap my arms around his torso.
I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move nor does he touch me. I can’t let go of him because I need him. I need him to know that.
“Noah, please? I’m so sorry,” I say over the spray of the water as I lay my forehead against his back. I feel his arms move and his hands grasp my wrists. Relief floods me for the briefest moment until he pulls free from my grip.
When he turns to face me, my eyes meet his; his face is flushed like he’s been physically ill for days. He speaks before I have time to take in the rest of his mood. “I flew across the world for you, Heather. I’ve given up my life t
o come after you, not once, but twice. Goddammit, Heather. I fucking love you with every damn fiber of my being, but I have never felt . . . Hell. You are the one person I have trusted with every aspect of my life, and you know everything I’ve been through. Why did you feel the need to hide this from me?”
“I . . .” I try to reply but he holds his hand up.
“No, never mind. I don’t want to hear any bullshit. Why you insist on keeping shit from me is beyond my comprehension.”
I blurt out the words, so he doesn’t have time to cut me off this time. “I didn’t know how. How do I tell the man I love that his parents cared for me in the way that they never got to with him?”
I watch as he stares down at me like I just smacked him. I never thought he would take it this way. I search for any sign, any signal, that he would welcome my touch. My touch always calms him . . . but I find nothing. His stance screams anger and frustration toward me.
I feel his heated and heavy gaze move down my body, and he stops when he sees my foot. “What the hell are you thinking, huh? Are you trying to further damage yourself?” He easily removes me from the shower without any injury to my leg.
I don’t move because I’m scared he won’t want to touch me after this. My body weakens when the thought of this possibly being the last time he touches me creeps into my mind like an incoming storm, waiting to inflict its worst and rain down on me. To sting my skin, to hurt me, and tear everything I love away from me because I kept a secret.
Noah sets me down on the bed without drying me off first. I watch his retreating back as he walks out into the living room, naked with cool water droplets covering his gorgeous body. When he comes back he’s got the bottle of Woodford Bourbon to his lips, and his throat is working overtime to down the liquid burn.
I’m nervous. Not for myself, but for him. I remember the last time he drank when he was angry. It didn’t escalate to what could have been, but now . . . it just might. In the back of my mind, I notice that he doesn’t even have an erection. He’s never been in proximity of my naked body and not been affected. The fleeting moment passes when he kicks my boot toward the bed.
“Put it back on,” he says in an icy-cold voice.
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