I reached for my beer and took another drink. “What do you want from me, Wheels?”
“Nothing, Noah.”
She dropped a knife into the sink with a thunk, telling me nothing was definitely something.
“I knew this was a mistake,” she said. “What am I even doing here?”
“The theater is a death trap. The play isn’t finished, and you staying here is what Lucas wanted.” Did I need to remind her she was fighting for a spot on Broadway, not to mention a whole lot of money in the form of her grandmother’s legacy? Of course I couldn’t say the one thing I wanted to, the one thing that mattered most. You’re here because I want you here.
“What if I told you the play’s finished?” she said. “That I emailed the final draft to Lucas two hours ago? What would you say to that?”
I took another pull on my beer. “Writers aren’t done until the show’s had its run.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ashlyn
Of all the words to come back and bite me, I never thought it’d be those.
I tossed the dish cloth in the sink, closed the screen on my computer, and without making eye contact with Noah, proceeded toward the sun porch.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “Smells like the pizza will be ready in a few minutes.”
I wasn’t hungry anymore. And I didn’t owe him answers. Without turning back, I kept on going.
“Ashlyn,” he called. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. When even that didn’t get a reaction, Noah moved. He bolted in front of me, blocking my path. “Don’t walk away from me.”
That day in the stairwell flashed through my mind. Noah grabbing me from behind, my shoulder smacking against the door frame, how he’d looked, thinking he’d hurt me.
“Why, Noah? Why shouldn’t I walk away? After all, you always are.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You had the same reaction that day in the stairwell, after our first improvisation. I thought it was because of your father and his abusive tendencies. How you think you might turn into him.”
“You don’t know anything about that, Ashlyn.”
“We’ve known each other a long time, Noah. No one had to say anything for me to know. Funny thing is, I’ve just realized it’s not about him. It’s all about control. You can walk away from me, but I can’t walk away from you.”
“It’s about common courtesy, Wheels. Can we not simply share a meal together after you went to the trouble?”
I stepped around him, walking out onto the porch. Catching up to me, he reached for my arm, his touch gentler than it had been that day in the stairwell. “Ash.”
“You have to control every situation.”
Noah shook his head in slow denial.
Could he not see what he was doing to me? That my heart broke a little more each time he pushed me away? I still couldn’t look at him. “You use Quinn as a barrier between us. He’s your excuse when you need distance.”
“If that’s what you think, I don’t see it.” His hands flew to my cheeks, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I need distance because I can’t tell what’s real between us anymore. Are you Ashlyn or Caroline? Am I supposed to be Andy, or Noah?”
My heart constricted like it had been crushed in a compactor. My throat closed up. I struggled to speak. “After today, in your office, you can honestly say that to me? That you don’t know what’s real?”
If only we would’ve stuck to the script during those times we acted out possible scenes—kept our time together strictly about Andy Rich and Caroline, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But no, from the first time we made love, he’d insisted that it be between us, not them. And he had the nerve to say he didn’t know what was real. Well, maybe it was time I told him. Put it all out there. After all, holding it in wouldn’t be playing fair.
“I love you.” I said. “That’s what’s real. And I don’t know what happens next, but I don’t have to. I just need to know you’re willing to work it out because I know you feel something for me, too.”
Jaw tense, Noah searched my eyes, and in his, I saw confirmation. He really did love me, too.
“Tell me you love me, Noah.”
The tension in his jaw slowly softened. That’s when he stepped forward and kissed me, languid and sweet. It was a direct contradiction to the pent-up edge I felt in his body, further proof that he wasn’t his father, that he’d mastered control of his physical actions. And once again, this kiss was different than the others. It wasn’t about possessing, or lust, or even comfort. It was about giving me what he thought I needed.
As much as I wanted to lose myself to him, to follow the lead of my natural instincts and his, I couldn’t. Not when it would make the pain of parting that much more unbearable. And not when he was trying to say with his body what he struggled to say with words.
If only I didn’t need the words.
I stroked his hair. Wrenched my mouth away. Then rested my forehead against his. “Tell me you love me,” I breathed.
“You need this play to be a success as much as I do,” he said. “The only way that happens is if we work together.”
“Tell me, Noah.” Why wouldn’t he just say it?
Thunder rolled. Lightning illuminated a night sky. I swallowed the knot in my throat. Our eyes met, and for a second I saw everything he’d struggled to suppress. The expression he wore was the exact same expression he’d had that day in Central Park.
He loved me.
There, in that look, was proof of what I’d somehow always known.
Hope surged inside me. The daunting obstacles that stood between me and Broadway, my inheritance, and saving the town, suddenly felt achievable. All Noah had to do now was say those three small words and I’d be his forever.
“Say it,” I said, breathless.
A flash of lightning hit its mark nearby. Noah remained silent. Thunder cracked, right along with my heart. Tears welled, but like a heavy cloud couldn’t stop the fall of rain, I couldn’t choke back my pain.
Noah’s hand went to my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Ashlyn.”
The realization he wasn’t going to say it hit me like a punch in the gut, knocking out my wind, leaving me hollow and broken.
He dropped his hand, gazed at me for another long moment. His lips went tight. His face harsh. Then he turned his ramrod-straight back to me.
And walked away.
Leaving me alone, just like I knew he would but had hoped with everything inside me he wouldn’t. A chill that felt a whole lot like regret settled in the air. A blast of wind from the north gusted, taking down a limb from a hundred-year oak. It snapped then tore, and when the lightning illuminated the sky again, it revealed the tree’s insides as shredded as my own. But the limb continued to hang by a thread, until finally it crashed to the ground.
Was that what I’d been doing all these years? Hanging on to that shred of hope? Blaming my inability to love and to trust on Kyle Pritchard, when it really all hinged on the fact that whoever I was with wasn’t Noah?
“What the hell’s going on here?”
I whipped my head around to see my brother standing in the doorway.
Surprised, Noah looked up the same time as me. Then he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Q, what’re you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until—”
“I didn’t trust the mail.” Quinn tossed what looked to be a thumb drive at Noah, who caught it with one hand. “Never thought it’d be you I couldn’t trust.”
Thunder rattled the windows of the enclosed sun porch again. The lights flickered off, then on. Chill bumps rose on my spine. “What’s that?” I asked, looking from Noah, to Quinn.
A vein in Quinn’s jaw throbbed. “It’s Noah’s grand plan to get Kyle Pritchard out of your life for good. Didn’t he tell you about it? Guess he’s good at keeping secrets from both of us.”
Wait—what? Noah had a plan about Kyle? He’d gone behind my back and
colluded with my brother? Trying to keep myself from doubling over in pain and shock, I wrapped my arms around my waist. My eyes remained on Quinn, who kept his gaze on Noah. Finally, I managed to get words out. “What do you know about Kyle Pritchard?”
“Ashlyn, I can explain,” Noah said.
“On the subject of Pritchard, anyway,” Quinn said. “He told me all I needed to know.”
I’d been so sure I could trust Noah, especially with this, of all things. Hurt and betrayal washed over me at once and kept me from breaking down. I held my hand out to Noah. “Give me the thumb drive.”
“Could you give us a minute, Quinn?” Noah said.
“No,” I said, answering for my brother. “What’s on the flash drive?”
“Surveillance.” Quinn glanced at Noah. “I told you she’d be pissed.”
My gaze snapped to Quinn’s. “Oh, just shut up. Forgive me if I can’t possibly believe you were an innocent lackey.”
I walked over to Noah and snatched the device from his hand.
The fingers of his other hand moved to my waist. “We’re gonna talk about this, Ash.”
“Oh, now you want to talk,” I spat out, pain fueling my anger. “I don’t think so. You saw me at Kyle’s that day, didn’t you?”
Noah’s level gaze didn’t back down from mine as more tears spilled down my cheeks.
“All this time I was so worried about you being afraid you’d turn into your father. Until now, I never realized how much you’d turned into mine.” I gathered all the bravado I could muster and straightened to my full height. “Your part in this play is over, Noah. On behalf of the citizens of Phair and The Marshall Theater, thanks for taking one for the team. How does it feel to be right? There really is no problem you can’t fix.”
Chapter Eighteen
Noah
The minute the storm subsided, Ashlyn left for Jessica’s, and all I could do was stand back and watch her go. When I could no longer see her taillights from the wall of front windows, I joined Quinn in the kitchen.
He handed over one of two beers he’d pulled from the fridge. “Seeing you all hang-dog is going to take the fun out of kicking your ass.”
“Mind if we save it for another day?”
He took a long drink from his beer. “Do you love her?”
“More than you know.”
He let out a solid string of expletives. “I knew this was going to happen. The second you told me she was coming to Phair, I knew it would come to this.” He shook his head in disgust. “Noah, what the hell were you thinking? You know she’s been hung up on you since she was a kid.”
Beer raised, I stopped it four inches in front of my mouth. “Actually, I didn’t.” I took another drink. “And what I was thinking was she’s my best friend’s little sister who I promised to always look after.”
“A promise once made is never broken,” Quinn said, reciting our old fraternity pact. “That’s quite an excuse.”
“She turns thirty in just over a month, so I was also thinking about the contract your father coerced her to sign, and that if she came to Phair, she’d have a good shot at keeping her inheritance, have a legitimate chance at Broadway, and maybe save the theater that’s been in a family for five generations.” I drained the rest of my beer. “So forgive me. She’s been here for seven months and I hadn’t laid a hand on her. Why would I think the past five days out of two hundred and fifteen would be any different?”
“Wow, now that you spell it out in plain English, I don’t know how I missed it,” Quinn said, shaking his head. “You are one arrogant sonofabitch.”
“Missed what?” My eyes narrowed. “What is it you missed?”
“You not being able to figure it out is why you don’t deserve my sister.”
…
Since neither Quinn nor Ashlyn would speak to me, or, as far as I knew, each other, I spent the last two weeks holed up in my office, drinking by myself once the workday was through. The pain I’d seen in Ashlyn’s eyes that night still ripped at me. So did Quinn’s last words, telling me how I didn’t deserve her. But at least I got to see Ashlyn every day as she walked to the theater from Jessica’s house behind the bar. A couple of times I even thought about following her, but in the end decided against it. The scene reminded me too much of the one where Andy stalks Caroline.
So I worked when I had to and drank when I didn’t, conducting an odd experiment that might not make sense to anyone but me. And each night I drank, I wondered when it would happen—when I would hit that point where a taste for alcohol would turn into a craving and the destruction of my life and everyone around me. And yet the more I drank, the less I wanted to. But I forced it anyway. I had to find out if the bad parts of Michael had been passed down to me. Would I become like my father—a raging, abusive drunk—or had Ashlyn been right? Had my protective instincts made me like hers—a controlling, overbearing sonofabitch?
My skull nearly split in half when Babs bounded in my office on a Sunday morning, five days before opening night of the festival. She dropped a duffel bag none too gently on top of my stomach as I lay on the couch, nursing yet another hangover. “Thought you might be running out of clean clothes, Michael.”
I pushed the duffel onto the floor as I rose to sitting. Then I cradled my hammering head in my hands. “Stop calling me Michael.”
“I will when you stop acting like your father.”
At least in oblivion, I had peace. Finally, I felt like I understood him.
Babs moved around the room, swiping empty beer bottles into a trash can she carried, making all kinds of noise as she went. “It doesn’t have to be this way, you know…between you and her.”
“Ashlyn needs to be free to make her own choices, live her own life.” Because that’s what she wanted, right? No interference?
“So that’s it? You’re just gonna offer yourself up as the martyr because you got a bum rap as a kid?”
I wasn’t about to admit to Babs that I had only just discovered Michael had nothing to do with it. I couldn’t see myself becoming an alcoholic, and Pritchard still being present in Phair more than proved I could control my violent impulses.
I grabbed a three-quarter-empty bottle of whiskey and thought about drinking it. “You know, your sarcasm really gets old sometimes.”
“So does your stupidity.” The bottle Babs dropped missed the trash and landed with a clink on the floor. Miraculously, it didn’t break. She bent to pick it up. By the time she straightened, her entire demeanor had changed. “Life is about choices, Noah. You choose to drink, you choose not to. You choose to be a good person and do right by others, or you don’t.”
Choices was exactly where Babs was wrong. If I had a choice about falling in love, it sure wouldn’t have been with my closest friend’s sister. It was bad enough not being with the woman I loved. Not being able to talk about it with my best friend only made things worse.
With that realization, I took the bottle of whiskey into the bathroom and poured it down the sink. The stuff tasted like shit, anyway.
“Finally,” Babs said. “Maybe now we can get some common sense around here.”
Yeah, maybe we could.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve learned my lesson. I can’t always be in control.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ashlyn
Everything inside me hurt. My heart, my lungs, my ribs. Even the hair follicles of my skin ached. Having gone through heartbreak over Noah before, I thought I knew what it felt like. But what I’d experienced at seventeen had nothing on this.
As I walked from Jessica’s house—where I’d been staying after my blow-up with Noah—and headed to The Marshall Theater to watch one of the last rehearsals, I realized I had to give Noah credit. He’d been true to his word. According to Lucas, Noah had convinced the fire marshal to give the theater until after the festival to bring the electrical up to code. Even though the repairs couldn’t be
done without extensive work, it at least allowed for the theater to remain open during the critical time.
Noah had also secured volunteer firemen to be on the premises watching for signs and potential hazards during the festival for safety’s sake. Even though his methods and motives with me were sometimes circumspect, Noah was a good man who cared about people. Like Andy Rich, his strongest characteristic had led to his downfall. I just hoped I wasn’t wrong for believing in redemption.
“Hey, Ash,” Jess said, catching me as I made my way through the theater lobby. “Come check out the finished set.”
I followed her backstage. Most of the props were a re-use of previous shows; the living room, Caroline’s bedroom…Andy’s office. My heart twisted, thinking about scenes that hadn’t been scenes until they’d happened between Noah and me. But it was the bus stop—the symbol of the road less traveled—that caused my heart to stop beating. It was everything I’d pictured in my head. Vibrantly colored and larger than life, it represented choices—continue down the beaten path or carve your own way. Stay. Or go.
A grin spread across my face as I took it all in. It felt sincere, but also a little forced. “It’s perfect.”
“About Kyle…” Jess said. “Have you decided anything?”
She was referring to surveillance footage taken by Noah and Quinn that I’d told her all about. I still hadn’t decided what to do—turn it over to the festival committee and let them deal with Kyle, or handle him myself. But after a morning of intense soul searching, I’d come closer to a decision.
“I’m going to face him after rehearsals.”
“Atta girl,” Jess said, grinning. As I turned to walk away, she caught me by the arm and added, “Hey, Ash, wait. I just want you to know I’m not worried. Whatever happens at the festival, to the theater, none of that’s on you. And no one will blame you if it doesn’t go a certain way.”
I pulled her into a hug. “Thank you. And thank you for being here for me these last couple of weeks.”
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