Page 12

twelve

Paisley

I pace around the circumference of Noah’s living room, phone tucked to my ear. “I know what you are saying, Dad. I’m trying not to worry too much.”

“I would worry,” he responds, his gruff voice ticking up a notch. “There are a lot of weirdos out there. The fact that they held onto the photos for so long tells me they have a plan of some sort. You didn’t find any notes or anything? Did you look all around your car in case it blew away?”

“Nothing.” Goosebumps dot my spine because that’s the thing that bothers me the most. Without a note, I have no idea what this person is trying to accomplish.

“I don’t think you should be staying alone anymore. Can you come back here and stay with your mom and me?”

“I don’t want to leave until morning because it’s dark already, but Noah was concerned too, so he insisted I stay at his place for the night.”

Silence, before I hear how that sounds to my old-fashioned dad. “It’s not like a bachelor pad. He lives with his mom and . . . stepfather.” I purposely retract Bill’s name as I cringe, holding back every intention I had of being honest about Noah’s relationship to Bill. I’m going to tell him about it, but I wasn’t planning on also getting a stalker. Too much stress at one time will kill my dad.

“Noah?” His voice crescendos. “The same guy you went on a date with?”

“Yeah.” Folding my lips in, I now regret even telling my dad about the stalker. He had called, and I was still upset, and he could hear something in my voice. When he asked me what was wrong, it slipped out. Now I regret answering the phone.

“Don’t you think the timing is a little weird for all of this? You start dating this guy, and now you have a stalker.”

“It has nothing to do with Noah.” I shake my head vehemently. I know that as fact. If it has to do with anyone, I guess it is my dad since I’m here working for him, and he does have an interesting way of doing business, making many enemies.

“I don’t like this one bit, but you’re a grown woman.” An audible sigh waves through my phone. “Let me know when you get on the road in the morning. I’m glad your travel assignment is over. It’s time for you to come home.”

“I will.” Noah’s footfalls coming down the stairs sound in the background, and I push the conversation to end. “I’ll text in the morning. Love you.” I press end on the call right as I turn to Noah.

He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Did you see Bill come in?”

“Briefly.” My eyes trace the invisible trail he created when he motioned to the steps. My heart feels heavy being in this house after everything I had planned to do to hurt Bill. “They came in and said hi and reiterated that I am welcome. He said something about a carnival this weekend that I was invited to and then went upstairs.”

“Oh, yeah, another one of Bill’s charity things. He takes his charity work almost as seriously as hockey.” Noah’s gaze dances over my face as if he’s studying me. “You’re welcome to come if you want.”

I hang my head as guilt washes over me. When I accepted this assignment to come to Mapleton, I only had one mission—to make my dad proud. I never thought about the people who I would be hurting. I know now with every ounce of blood in my body I would never be able to intentionally hurt anyone. The thing is, before I came here, the team didn’t feel like real people. It was like fictional characters made out to be villains, with Bill as their headmaster. I loved to despise them because that’s the story I was always told.

I lock eyes with Noah, and shame overcomes me. With those pictures in someone’s hands, it might be only a matter of time before they are exposed in a more public way.

This might be my only chance to explain to Noah.

I want to give him an explanation not to cover myself, or make excuses, but to let him know I was wrong and that I had an awakening. And it was largely because of the kindness he showed me.

“It’s going to be okay.” Noah effortlessly wraps both arms around me. “Mapleton’s a really safe town. If anything, it might be some high school punks playing a joke on you. There’s no reason anyone would want to hurt you. You’re the nicest person.”

I swallow, pressing my cheek into Noah’s chest, wishing his words were true. Every one of them stabs at my heart, echoing all the bad intentions I had. He’s going to find out sometime. If I have any chance of salvaging his trust, it needs to come from me.

It’s now or never.

“That’s not exactly true.” I suck back a deep breath. “There is something I did wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong.” His smile only increases, and he lowers his face. “This isn’t even about you. This is one stupid person being dumb.”

My heart thuds against my chest as little quakes of nerves rumble in my belly. It’ll be fine. Noah is the nicest guy I know. He’ll probably laugh it off. “Here’s the thing—” His eyes are so wide and brimmed with trust that it makes me cut myself off. Taking a deep swallow, I try a different approach. One less direct. “Did I tell you the magazine I’m working for is actually owned by my dad?”

His lips roll in, and he shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t recall.”

“It is.” My gaze bounces to the floor before I continue. “My dad and I get along fine and everything, but I have four brothers who all play hockey.” I raise my brows in punctuation and tack on, “You know from Bill how obsessed with hockey my dad is, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

“I don’t know.” Even though I’m still in his arms, I stare past him as there is no way I could ever look at him and say this. “I always felt invisible around my dad. When I was little, it didn’t bother me, but as I got older, I really started to resent it. I was jealous of the extra love and attention my brothers got.” A knot of inferiority swells in my gut, and it hurts to acknowledge all of this out loud—and to Noah, who I only recently got to know, but now I care what he thinks of me.

“Your father is a fool to make you feel like that.” The unwavering conviction in his voice only makes my heart constrict more.

“Maybe I am a fool.” I can’t fathom what I was even thinking a month ago when this assignment was handed to me. “I did something really stupid.”

A light chuckle leaks from his lips. “How stupid?”

“This isn’t a joke.” I practically speak over him, because I’m so ashamed. I can’t stand to have him defend me right now. I inhale slowly, knowing there is no way out of this but with the truth. Not if I want a shot of having a genuine relationship with Noah. “I agreed to come to Mapleton to write for my dad’s magazine, but I was assigned to write a hit piece,” I blurt out, rapidly and jumpy like I’m pulling a trigger to a pistol I'm forced to shoot. “All the photos I had on the memory card are bad photos I took, with the intention to make you all look like jerks.”

I squint, as if lowering my eyelids puts a shield over my heart.

His head cocks to the side, as if my words are still ringing in the ear closest to me, but then slowly trickle down through his body until they reach his fingertips, where I can feel his grip around my waist tense up. This sends an immediate beam of fear to rocket back through me. “I would never do it, though! I saw how amazing this team is, and I regret even agreeing to it.”

One hand of his drops, as it seems some nervous energy has shot into his body, and he slices his hand through his hair and gives me an angled look.

Still speechless.

“Look,” I say, taking a defensive tone. “I only know about Bill from my dad’s point of view. You know their rivalry. I was trying so hard to impress my dad, but now I don’t care what he thinks, and I would never—” I physically cross my heart with my finger “—ever do anything to intentionally hurt you.”

His brows bend down, and he releases his other hand from my hip, pulling his eye contact too. I panic and leak a laugh. Not because it’s funny but because I’m desperate to have him say something to me. “It's sort of funny, right?” I nudge him with my elbow, but he’s stiff, backing away from me. “It’s like I had someone looking out for me when my card got stolen.”

Finally, his gaze slams into mine, and his eyes are wide, vulnerable. I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief that he’s finally coming to my rescue one more time! He’ll save me from my own confession. His lips purse out into a contemplative fold that forewarns what’s coming.

My heart feels a prick, small at first, but it grows in intensity until a slow pressure exchange begins, and it starts to deflate. I reach for his hand, grabbing for anything to stop the release, but he pushes my hand away and turns his head. “Noah,” I plead with shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you.”

“I guess I didn’t know you either,” he whispers, taking a heart-deflating step back.

I trap my bottom lip between my teeth, giving him time to process this. It’s a lot to consider, but I don’t doubt he’ll understand things. He runs his hand through his hair again, and barely tosses a look over his shoulder. “This is Bill’s house. I think you need to leave.”

“What about my stalker?” I blurt out, still afraid I’m in danger. “I was hoping if I told you the truth about the photos, you’d be able to help me figure this out.”

When he pivots to look at me, it’s as if his eyes can’t even focus. “Maybe call your dad back. He seems to have the answers you like.”

“Noah,” I whisper shout, not wanting to wake anyone upstairs. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to do what he says anymore. That’s why I confessed.”

He blinks, as if coming out of a trance, and finally focuses on me but only for a moment. Then his feet slide back through the hallway, and he calls over his shoulder, “I’ll give you a ride to your car. You should be fine until morning.”

He can’t be serious.

This is Noah.

He rescued me every single time I didn’t need him to. And now, the time I could use his empathy, he’s a stone wall. “Noah,” I call after him, but he’s unwavering in his path to the door. Giving up, I drag my feet after him because he’s already halfway through the kitchen.

With my face angled down, I follow him to his car, and we ride in silence until he pulls up behind my car. Not even putting his car into park, he stares straight ahead, waiting for me to get out.

I’m terrified to go back to my Airbnb. I won’t get any sleep. Not with my mind reeling like this. My shaky fingers find my door handle, but I toss a look back at him. Apparently, Noah can put up a great stone wall, but I offer a last very quiet, “I know it may seem like I’m only sorry everything had to come out with this stalker, but that’s not why I’m sorry at all. I’m sorry I trusted my dad. I knew better.”

His Adam’s apple moves up, marking his deep swallow. Not wanting to be a bother, I open my door and slip out of his car, resigning to the fact I have a long drive ahead of me.

I failed this assignment.

Not the photojournalism one.

The life lesson one.

My hands tremble as I climb into my car and shift into drive again. I’m actually grateful I ran out of gas earlier this week. Since then, I’ve been leaving my gas tank topped off, which makes it easy for me to jump directly onto the interstate to return home.