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My mind was preoccupiedwith grading papers and planning the next day’s lessons as I left school. The teacher’s parking lot was almost empty as I approached my car, lost in thought, and that was when Connor appeared beside me like an apparition.
“Jesus, Connor!” I exclaimed, my heart racing. “You scared the hell out of me.” Quinn had always said his security guy was stealthy, and now, I believed that.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he said, his tone serious. “I need to talk to you.”
I unlocked my car and tossed in my files, but didn’t get up out of my chair, sensing the urgency in his voice and getting this feeling of unease. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“It’s about Noah,” he began, glancing around as if to make sure we were alone. “His ex showed up at the cafe today and caused a scene.”
A cold knot formed in my stomach. “What happened? Is Noah okay?” I glanced over to where the line of buses usually parked—Fox would have left for the day. “Is he still there? Is Fox okay going back home?”
“Fox will be fine,” Connor reassured me, then strangely for him, he seemed at a loss as to what to say and cracked his knuckles. “Neil is there, or at least he was, and he sent me to keep an eye on the school.” He shrugged. “I’m heading back, but look, situations like this, they’re shit, especially for kids. I’m telling you this for Fox’s sake, so when you go home, you’ll treat him right with this. Don’t go barreling in all protective and asking questions. I’m talking from experience.” He was rambling a little, but I got the sense he knew more than he was telling, and I had an uneasy feeling. How bad was it that Briggs had visited his ex and his son? I knew Briggs and Noah were divorced. I’d gotten the impression Briggs was out of their lives and that it had been an unhappy marriage, and of course, it had to be bad for Noah to have sole custody of Fox, but Connor was acting as if Briggs was a threat. Was he a threat?
I levered myself out of the chair and collapsed it, placing it into the converted trunk, then heading back to Connor as I tried to process what he was saying. “Thanks for letting me know, Connor. I appreciate it.”
“Just don’t tell Neil I gave you a heads up. He hates it when I meddle.” Connor shrugged. “He won’t like that I’m telling you, but I did a thorough analysis on your man, and his ex, and I didn’t like what I read about Briggs Lewiston, so the goddamn sheriff will have to live with it, and I’ll deal with the fallout.” He frowned as if he had more to say about Briggs, or the sheriff’s opinion of him; I didn’t know which. “Just thought you should know, for Fox.”
I nodded, grateful despite the unconventional way the message was delivered. “Thanks, Connor. I’ll check in on them now.”
“And if you time it right, you’ll get there before Fox gets home—he’s one of the last drop-offs, and I’m gonna go follow his bus.”
With that, he slipped away as fast as he’d arrived, and I almost missed him rounding the corner. Then, with worry creeping into my thoughts, I headed back to Whisper Ridge and parked behind the diner, foregoing the chair despite the aches from today, I took my crutches just in case, and headed inside. The place was open—Noah behind the counter chatting to Fred who was still axing lyrical about herbs on eggs—and when Noah glanced over to see who’d arrived; he smiled in welcome.
Only I knew him now, and Noah’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
I waited for him to tell me about Briggs as we kissed hello, until he’d made me a snack, poured me a coffee, and handled customers. I even waited for him to tell me when he was chatting to me about the Spring Rains Festival and his recipes, and the posters he was putting in the window.
Nothing.
He was all sunshine and smiles to customers, made them food, and made them laugh, but everything he did hid a frightening brittleness I thought might crack him in two. Fox came home about thirty minutes after I’d gotten there, strolling in without a care in the world, stealing cookies, side-hugging his dad, asking if he could have chicken parm for dinner. He didn’t notice his dad was close to a meltdown.
Was it just me?
Was it because I’d expected the worst?
This weird normal that Noah was striving for was killing me because he was busy with anything he could find to do, and at seven on the nose, it was me who ushered out a lingering Freddie and shut the door before turning the sign toclosed. Behind me, I heard a noise, a soft sigh, or a sob. I pulled the blinds and headed back to the counter, but there was no sign of Noah, and I followed the sounds I could hear to the hall and the bottom of the stairs, wincing when I saw Noah on the bottom step. How the fuck was I going to get down there and then get up again?
I didn’t give a shit.
I sat next to him and reached for his hand, which he took and held tight. His breathing was harsh, as if every emotion he was trying to keep in check was stealing air from his lungs, and he squeezed my hand so tight it hurt.
Still, I didn’t try to remove it.
“Noah?”
He pulled up his knees, taking my hand and kissing it, unpeeling my fingers, and kissing each one in soft but deliberate movements.
“My ex, Briggs, was here today,” he murmured.
“Okay.”
“There’s things you should know.” He glanced at me, and I nodded in encouragement, and he swallowed hard. “I have a restraining order against him, and a contract he signed that said he’d stay away in exchange for any money I might have got from him for Fox.”
Shit, this sounded bad.
“It all started just after we got married,” he began, then stopped. “Before we were married, he was the perfect gentleman—attentive, thoughtful—and I never saw through him. First, it was just words, y’know? Like, Fox was only five when we met, and after the wedding, I became this stay-at-home dad because… well, Briggs was on the road a lot, and I’d taken a sabbatical from the restaurant, working on a cookbook, and teaching sometimes, when I could, at the restaurant I’d worked at. That’s where Briggs and I met, when he threw this huge party to celebrate his thirtieth birthday, and I’d been part of the team…” He blinked. “I’m confusing myself. Shit, I’m getting off track.”
“That happens,” I murmured, “when things are painful.”
