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With no choice but to concede to Moretti’s point, Lawson stifled another sigh, stared out the passenger window, and confessed, “Used to be my girl. But that was a long time ago.”
Moretti barked out a laugh. “Long time ago, huh?”
Lawson said nothing in reply.
“Look, I’m not reassigning you. I don’t have the manpower; and, quite frankly, I think you just need to man up. I don’t know what that looks like for you in this situation; do the job and keep it rollin’ or do the job and own up to the fact that thiswomanyou speak of clearly still has a hold on you. Maybethat’swhat you should be focusing on.”
Moretti’s response wasn’t out of character, but it bothered Lawson just the same. It wasn’t Moretti’s refusal to reassign him—it was the way he struck a nerve, one that was growing more sensitive in recent days.
Suddenly, Nash was shoved out of the forefront of his mind as Nora took his place. All over again, he was back in his brother’s driveway. The memory of the five minutes he’d spent with Nora-Jean in the dark brought with it a longing he’d been carrying with him far longer than he wanted to admit.
Moretti had been right to laugh. It’d been a long time since Lawson and Nora-Jean had walked away from each other—but she still had him. She had a piece of him other women had asked for, but he was never able or willing to give. What he was going to do about it, he didn’t know. Or, more accurately, he wasn’t ready to find out.
He’d been on set for four days with way too much time to think. The longer he thought about it, and the longer he occupied the same space as Nash, the harder it was to deny the truth. Nash didn’t irritate him by simply existing. The two had barely spoken a word to each other, reiterating the fact they were complete strangers to one another. Sure, he was a coward and a low-life who may have made a name for himself by selling his soul to the devil and abandoning his own child—but that wasn’t why he frustrated Lawson.
It wasLawsonhimself who was to blame.
Creed Nash was a reminder of not what he had done to Nora-Jean, but what Lawson had done. Tough as it was to admit, Lawson was hardly better than Nash. He, too, found out Nora-Jean was pregnant, and he walked away without saying a word. His pride had gotten the better of him. Instead of owning up to the fact that he loved her anyway, he turned his back on her.
Five years ago, it felt like the just thing to do. Now, seeing Nash’s face day after day, he felt tormented with regret. So much time had been lost. Time neither of them would ever get back. And maybe—in spite of their history—they weren’t meant to be; but there had been no closure. Without it, Lawson had been stuck, unable to move on with anyone else in a real way.
He didn’t know how to bring it up with her or when, but he knew he owed her one thing. Creed Nash was less than an hour away from Shelbyville, and she had a right to know. After so many years, Lawson doubted if Nash had the balls to show hisface in Shelby, but that wasn’t the point. Moretti had been right. It was time to man up.
“Yo,” said Moretti, clapping a hand on Lawson’s shoulder. “They’re wrapping early today. Let’s get out of here. If we beat traffic, I might actually get to sit down to eat dinner with my fiancée tonight.”
Lawson checked the time, taken aback to see it was only four o’clock. While it had still been an eleven-hour day, it was a pleasant surprise to learn they’d be hitting the road before the sun went down. Given Lawson didn’t believe in coincidence, he also considered it a sign. Moretti might have been looking forward to dinner with his woman, but it wasn’t lost on Lawson that an early start home meant he’d have an opportunity to seek out Nora-Jean, as well.
“You got any plans for the long weekend?” asked Moretti as he pointed his truck south.
Given their current gig had such long hours, Moretti scheduled them to be on set for four days with a part time crew taking the weekend. Though the time off was welcome, Lawson didn’t have anything out of the ordinary planned.
“Football. Church. Sunday dinner. The usual. You?”
“Hanna talked me into hanging Christmas lights on the house. I figured if I could get that crossed off the honey-do list quick enough, she won’t give me grief if football dominates the TV on Sunday.”
“Smart play.”
“I thought so.”
“You end up needin’ a hand with those lights, give me a holler.”
“Might take you up on that.”
Less than an hour later, Lawson was waving goodbye to his boss before he ascended the steps to his apartment. He knew what he ought to do was change out of his work polo,grab his keys, and get behind the wheel of his own truck—but he procrastinated. It took him twenty minutes to shower and change, then another twenty to work up the nerve to drive to the Town Square in search of Nora-Jean. When he finally threw on his worn, brown leather jacket and forced himself out the door, he was able to admit to himself he wasn’t gearing up to merely warn Nora-Jean about Nash. It was far more than that. It always had been.
When it came to her, it always would be.
It was a few minutes after five when Lawson pulled his Silverado into a vacant spot right in front of the salon. He saw Nora as she approached the door, calling out her farewell to someone he couldn’t see inside before she took her leave.
The streetlamp gave her face a warm glow as she stepped out into the early dark of winter. The wind blew, ruffling her long, thick, gorgeous hair, and she swept it to one shoulder as she reached into her purse for her key.
He’d made her his nearly seventeen years ago. A lot had changed in nearly two decades, but one thing remained the same. She was still beautiful, and he could forget himself watching her.
Just as she stepped off the sidewalk in order to cross the street, Lawson forced himself to act. He opened his driver’s side door, and the sound caught her attention. Their eyes met as he stepped down from the cab, and she stopped abruptly, shock evident on her face.
“Lawson—hi.”
“Hi,” he replied, shutting the door of his truck behind him.
