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The next afternoon, after filling two of the largest coffee mugs she could find, Gracie ordered Noah into his seat, ready to use duct tape if necessary. “I need you to focus. No more getting distracted.”

“Who’s getting distracted?”

“You. Every time we attempt to work on this memoir.”

“I was in the middle of making breakfast when we attempted earlier.”

“Which turned out to be a twelve-course meal, apparently.”

“Hey, toast might be enough for you, but Matt and I needed real food. And real food takes time. Especially when you’re making up for lost calories.”

Noah wasn’t kidding. Gracie wouldn’t be surprised if Matt had eaten a pound of bacon and an entire carton of eggs this morning. He’d obviously gotten his appetite back after fourteen hours of sleep. She’d been on the verge of checking for a pulse when he finally popped out of bed, saying he felt like a new man.

Something told her his rapid recovery had a lot to do with whatever was developing between him and Rachel. Didn’t hurt that he was still in his twenties either.

Oh, to be young again. Here she was still walking with a limp more than two weeks after her tumble. “Okay, fine,” Gracie said, powering up her laptop. “The big breakfast I get. But what on earth have you been doing in the garage that’s so important?”

“Checking out Buck’s old Chevy. After I dropped Matt off at his house, I realized he was going to need another car until his truck gets fixed. I decided to see if the old girl had any life left in her, and you know what, she does.”

“Ha! You think Dad’s going to let Matt drive his ’65 Corvette?”

“Uh, yeah, actually I do.” Noah reached for his coffee. “Because Matt and I already talked to him about it, and he said yes.”

“What? Betty?” No way. Gracie yanked her phone off the desk and punched Buck’s contact button. “Are you dying?” she said as soon as he answered.

“Aren’t we all?” he returned in a sleepy voice.

“I mean today. Right now. Why are you letting Matt drive Betty? Betty’s your baby. Nobody drives Betty but you.”

He hacked a few times into the phone. “Well, now that I know what it’s like to be trapped inside four walls, gathering dust, I’ve realized somebody needs to break Betty free. And it’s not going to be me. Who better than Matt?”

Guilt punched Gracie’s gut. She hadn’t visited her dad in far too long. “I’m coming to see you. This afternoon. I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ll be over in about—”

“No, no, no, honey, I’m fine.” He gave another few coughs. “Noah told me you two were working on a new project together. You work on that. Let Matt use the car. Really, I don’t mind. I’m good. Don’t worry about me. I’m too tired for visitors today anyway.”

“You sure?”

“You’d just be watching me sleep. Plus I think Mona’s already on her way over.”

“I thought you were too tired for visitors.”

“That’s how I get through Mona’s visits. I sleep.”

“Dad.”

“I’m kidding. You know I love her. And I love you too. Now get back to work. We’ll talk more later. Say good night, Gracie.”

“Good night, Gracie.” Gracie set her phone back on her desk. So much for focusing on the memoir. All she could think about now was her dad. And Betty. Trapped inside four walls. Gathering dust.

She really did need to go see him. But he was right. She couldn’t today. Not when she desperately needed to make progress on this memoir. She shot Noah a look. “Ready to focus?”

“I’m here. I’m ready. Let’s focus.”

“I mean it.”

“Me too, babe.”

Babe. It was starting to sound so natural, she almost didn’t catch it anymore. Her inner ice queen was slipping. “You know, sometimes I wish I was working with that silly horse from my rom-com novel instead of you,” she muttered.

“Ah, c’mon. I don’t bite. Plus I’m way cuter.”

Yeah, that was the problem. The more time she spent with him, the cuter he got. Even when his nose was covered in brownie batter.

She slammed her eyes shut. Come on, ice queen, get back on your throne. Your ex-husband isn’t cute.

Besides, they’d just been goofing around. Reminiscing a little. That’s all. He hadn’t been about to kiss her.

Okay, maybe he had. But she wouldn’t have liked it.

Okay, maybe she would have. But only because she was a big fan of brownie batter. Not Noah’s lips.

A loud slurping sound caught her attention. She opened her eyes to find Noah watching her from over the rim of his mug as he drank. “Is this part of the focusing process? Because I’m going to need a refill if we focus much longer.”

“We’re done focusing.” Gracie grabbed her pen and tugged her notebook in front of her. “I mean, we’re not done focusing. We are focusing, just not on the things we shouldn’t be focusing on.”

“Pretty sure I lost focus halfway through whatever you just said.”

“Focus!”

“Got it.” He smiled at her, then took another sip.

Good grief, even her inner ice queen couldn’t deny his smiles had gotten cuter. Gracie shook the thought away and stared down at her notebook. “So here’s what I’m thinking for the outline. The first chapter will be short. Touch upon the big game since that’s the only reason readers are going to buy this book. Sort of a teaser. Then we’ll jump back to your childhood in chapter two and—”

“My childhood?” Noah jumped out of his chair.

Gracie bit back a sigh. She really should’ve used duct tape. Less than a minute and he was trying to escape again. “Yes, Noah. Your childhood. Where else would we start a memoir about your life?”

“Not there. Nobody cares about my childhood. I don’t even care about my childhood. Let’s just focus on the one game.”

Gracie yanked a pencil out of the blue plastic cup covered in stickers that she used as a pen holder, a gift from Matt when he’d been around four, and banged the pencil against the edge of her desk like a heavy metal drummer. “You want the entire book to be about that one game?”

“Isn’t that the point of a memoir? To focus on one thing? I didn’t think this was going to be my entire autobiography. Besides, you said yourself that one game is the only reason readers are going to buy this book.”

“Buy it, sure. But like it? They’re going to want more.”

“Start in college then. When I quit and joined the minors. I’ve got some great stories from those days. Or we could go back to high school and talk about how we met.”

“We’re not talking about how we met. Our marriage isn’t part of this story.”

“Our marriage is a huge part of this story.”

“But it’s none of the readers’ business.”

“And my childhood is?”

“Absolutely. People will want to know what sort of childhood you had.”

Come to think of it, Gracie wanted to know what sort of childhood Noah had. He’d glossed over it when they started dating. Gracie had always been the one to prattle on and on about growing up without a mom and having a bossy older sister who tried staking a claim on the role of mom despite not having a single maternal instinct.

But what about Noah? Sure, Gracie knew he had three brothers, all older. They weren’t close, she knew that. When she and Noah married, Mikey came to the wedding. Benny sent a card. To this day, she’d never met Pete.

“What are your brothers doing these days?”

Noah set his mug down, then shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, looking out the window above her desk. “Why? Is this for chapter three?”

Gracie tossed her pencil onto her notebook. “This is for me. Do you still keep in touch with them?”

He lifted a shoulder. Sunlight highlighted the crow’s feet around the edges of his eyes. “Talk to Benny every now and again. He’s usually pretty good about calling when he’s strapped for some cash.” Noah’s mouth tipped up in a humorless smile. “Last I heard, Mikey was doing all right. Works for a logging company out in Oregon. Not sure where Pete’s at these days. I’m assuming he’s still alive.” He quirked a brow as if he were joking, but Gracie had a feeling he wasn’t.

“What about your dad? Did he—”

“He’s gone.”

“I know, but did he ever—”

“I don’t want him to be part of the story.” His tone left no room for argument. Noah squinted out the window, the lines fanning from the corners of his eyes etching deeper. With a quick sniff, he ducked his head and shoved off the wall. “I’m going to grab another cup of coffee. You want one?”

“You haven’t even finished your first cup.”

“I need some fresh air.”

“Noah—”

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Noah—”

He spun at the door. “I’m not putting my family in the book.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.” Gracie rose to her feet, a slight twinge in her hip, but nothing like before. A twinge she could live with. “I was going to tell you to wait for me.”

Her dad and Betty weren’t the only ones gathering dust inside of four walls. Other than sitting out on the porch a couple of times, Gracie hadn’t left the house since coming home from the hospital. “I’m sure I could do with a little fresh air too.”

“Should you be walking around out there? The ground isn’t even. What if you tripped and fell? You barely just got back on your feet.”

“I’m not an eighty-year-old woman. Besides,” she used the desk to guide her away from the chair. “If I fall, my orthopedic surgeon is going to kill you, not me.”

“Me? This was your idea.”

“Not the way I’ll tell it. Now stop arguing and grab my sweater. I don’t want to catch my death.”

“You sure you’re not an eighty-year-old woman, using expressions like catch my death ?”

Gracie couldn’t hold back a little laugh as Noah slipped her long sweater around her shoulders. She had missed this. Missed him. If only their marriage was like a ’65 Chevy that just needed a little dust-off and bit of fine-tuning.

But too much time had passed for them. Too many wounds. Their marriage was full of broken parts that couldn’t be fixed or replaced. It had already died in the walls of their past.

Noah linked her arm through his and said, “I’ve got some things I need to tell you. Things I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

Why did Gracie have the feeling Noah was about to take a sledgehammer to one of those walls?