This Just In... (Harlequin Superromance) (18 page)

She stared, feeling her own anger rise to meet his. Where did he get off using that snippy tone? She’d been completely up-front and honest about her desire to return to the city. He’d known that when he’d pushed for all those nights together, pushed her to come to his family dinners. So why was he now acting like she’d betrayed him? “I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t appreciate you treating me like I have.”

Emotions crackled between them, but when he spoke his tone was measured again. “I apologize if it came across that way.” But his hands clenched at his sides, flexing and releasing like he was practicing strangling something or someone. Probably her. “I hope you’re very happy in the city.”

A flicker of disgust rang through his final word, as though the city was something bad or dirty, so much less than the purity of life in Wheaton. Sabrina curled her fingers into her palms. The city wasn’t perfect, but neither was this place. But rather than tell him that, she offered a fake smile. Noah wasn’t the only one who could put on a front for others. “I will be. The city is my home.”

“Then it’s best you go back.”

“I agree.” Back to her old life full of nightclubs and high heels, weekend trips to Vegas and Whistler. A place where people didn’t force their way into her life and want to know every detail about her. Where she could move on if things got boring or hard and no one would get bent out of shape about it. Where no one would walk in her front door and tell her they missed her.

Oh, God. She sucked in some air. She had to go back. There was no place for her in Wheaton. She’d worked at Vancouver’s largest broadsheet for almost nine years. She’d made a place for herself in the city.

“Good luck.” His words were quiet and her anger washed away as quickly as it arrived.

She wasn’t mad at him. Not really. She was scared and worried. But she wasn’t allowed to turn to him for support anymore. Not now.

Sabrina hadn’t wanted things to work out this way. She’d known Noah wasn’t going to be thrilled. To be honest, she didn’t feel much like celebrating, either. But things didn’t have to end like this. With anger and hurt coloring all the joy they’d shared.

She longed to tell him they could still see each other. He could come and visit her in the city. She’d be back for holidays and other times during the year. But her mouth felt glued shut and her throat was tight.

Still, she reached for him as he began to move, to turn for the door, to walk out of her apartment and out of her life. “Noah.”

But he didn’t pause, simply walked out of her apartment, crossed the hall and closed his door behind him with a final click.

It was only then that the reality of her situation set in. She was going, leaving Wheaton in her rearview mirror just as she’d planned. Only instead of celebrating, Sabrina wanted to cry.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

N
OAH
DIDN
’
T
LEAVE
his apartment for two days. He’d heard Sabrina knock on his door, the light tap of her hand and call of her voice. He hadn’t responded, hadn’t moved, hadn’t answered; he just sat there, stewing.

And she hadn’t pushed, hadn’t demanded that he let her in so they could talk. He didn’t know whether he should be grateful for that or not. Because if she’d fought, it would have meant that he was important to her, that what they had was more than a summer fling. Instead, she just gave up and slipped an envelope under his door. It still sat there. He couldn’t be bothered to get up and look at it.

He watched from the couch Wednesday morning as she loaded up her SUV and drove away. He thought she might have glanced at his windows, a wistful look on her face, but that was probably his imagination. Wishful thinking.

Noah drank a beer and told himself it was five o’clock somewhere.

His body ached. He’d trusted her and she’d used him. He’d let her in. Welcomed her into his life, his family. Let her see the real him, the man behind the mayor and she’d used it to accomplish her goal of getting away from this town, away from him. She hadn’t even really asked if he’d go with her. No, she’d forgotten about him, about all of them, just as soon as she got what she wanted.

Noah was still sitting on the couch, watching the same sports highlights he’d been watching all morning when Marissa came by with the kids. He gave them the silent treatment, too. But Marissa was made of sterner stuff and used the key he’d given her to let herself in. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of him.

He glanced down at himself. He didn’t look that bad. His clothes were rumpled and hadn’t been changed in a few days, but they were relatively clean. That small spot from the burrito he’d eaten last night and the splotch where the beer had dripped were hardly noticeable.

“Hi, Uncle Noah.” Apparently, unaware of his current state of mind, Daisy flung herself at him with abandon. He caught her with an
oof.
She wrinkled her nose, too. “You smell funny.”

Marissa opened the French doors. Chilly air blew in and Daisy jumped down from the couch and complained she was cold. Noah didn’t care about the drop in temperature. He hadn’t noticed until Daisy said something.

Arms now unencumbered by busy five-year-old, he picked up his beer, ignoring the unpleasant taste it left on his tongue and sipped. If he was going on a bender, he needed to do it right.

“Enough.” Marissa swooped in and plucked the beer from his hands, dumping it down the sink. “You need coffee.”

Coffee, which made him think of Sabrina. Damn. Would it always be like this? Would coffee, or at least the coffee shop in town, always remind him of her? Was the sweet joy of caffeine now ruined forever?

He crossed his arms while Timmy chortled in his mother’s arms. Scotty stood by the side of the couch watching with big eyes and sucking his thumb. Daisy jumped on the couch.

Noah zeroed in on his niece. She was a good distraction from the painful path his thoughts were taking. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” She’d been very proud to enter grade one this fall and had shared that piece of info with him over and over. And over.

Daisy jumped some more. “No school today.”

He listened to Marissa banging around in the kitchen, then heard the click of his coffeemaker. He should let her know that this was his private domain and he’d make coffee if he wanted it, but it seemed like too much work. Instead he watched Daisy bounce off the couch and land on the floor with a thump. She started to twirl. Scotty copied her, thumb still firmly planted between his lips.

“Why don’t you go take a shower?” Marissa laid a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Noah shrugged. He was fine here on the couch. He watched the kids spin in front of the open doors. He could see the corner of one of the chairs Sabrina had put out there. He remembered the day Sabrina had painted the pair of them. He’d come home from work and found her on the lawn in front of the porch, cherry-red paint slopped on the grass, her shorts and a dab on her nose. Of course she’d suckered him into helping.

She hadn’t needed to try very hard. He’d wanted to help her and to test them out. To his great enjoyment, Sabrina had found the chair too hard, and determined that it was much more comfortable on his lap. After that, whenever they sat out there, she’d snuggle in and twine her arms around his waist and tell him all the amusing parts of her day.

Damn. He didn’t want to remember. He pinched the bridge of his nose until it hurt and then pinched a little longer.

Marissa squeezed his shoulder. “Seriously, Noah. You smell like a brewery.”

His jaw tightened. Could he not take one day for himself? Okay, a little more than a day. But did a man not deserve forty-eight hours to right himself when his legs had been slashed out from under him? “I’m fine.”

He wasn’t fine. Where was the numbing comfort from all the beer he’d imbibed since he’d walked out of Sabrina’s apartment on Monday night and into his now bleak future? The painful clamp around his heart told him it was nowhere to be found.

Sabrina had taken everything he had to offer, everything he’d always feared giving, worried that it would be too revealing, the bits of himself that he tried to tamp down so no one would ever see anything but the thoughtful, intelligent man he wanted them to see. Well, she’d seen and she’d gone, slicing him out of her life without a thought.

Noah could never allow that to happen again. Never give anyone reason to question his goodness, how much he cared for the town and its residents. Never give them any cause to ask him to leave, to bounce him out on his ear or politely nudge him aside.

But he needed today for himself.

“Noah. Shower.” Marissa poked him. “Or I’ll sic the kids on you.”

He opened his mouth to tell her to forget it, that he hadn’t holed up to practice his hygiene and if she didn’t like it she could leave, and then stopped. “Fine.”

Marissa would leave more quickly if he just went ahead and showered, and he was feeling a little grimy. Not that he’d admit it.

He left the four of them in the main room and walked to his bedroom, purposefully shutting the door behind him and flicking the lock. It was the first time he’d ever engaged it, but one couldn’t be too careful with Daisy in the house.

By the time Noah came back out, hair wet, skin soaped and rinsed, he was feeling marginally better. The hot cup of coffee Marissa poured for him helped, too.

“What’s that?” She pointed to the envelope she’d collected from the door and set on the kitchen table, propping it up on the decorative silver bowl that always sat in the middle.

Noah’s place was furnished, but didn’t have a homey, lived-in look. He’d gone to a big-box furniture store in a town an hour away, and ordered all the matching pieces, which left him with a slightly sterile effect that was missing the warmth that people with natural style achieved effortlessly. Like Sabrina—her place welcomed visitors with open arms.

He carved the thought out of his brain with surgical precision. He wasn’t going to think about her anymore. Hadn’t he decided that in the shower? And last night? And the day before that?

He picked up the envelope. His name was on the front in Sabrina’s handwriting. “I have no idea.” And he had no plans to open it up and find out. He moved to toss it in the trash.

“You should read it.”

No way. Absolutely not. Noah already knew what the letter would say. That she hoped they could be friends. That she hoped he was happy for her. That she hoped he understood why she had to go.

Marissa sighed. “Okay, my attempts at subterfuge and manipulation are a dismal failure. I recognize Sabrina’s handwriting. You need to read it.”

“I don’t. I’m fine.”

Marissa snatched the envelope out of his hand before he could crumple it into a ball. She started to tuck it into the bowl then paused. “You promise not to throw it away when I leave?”

“No.”

She put a hand on her hip. Daisy ran up and followed suit. Noah was unmoved. He didn’t want to read what Sabrina had written. There was nothing she could’ve written that would make any of this better. “You’ll want to read it when you’re feeling better.”

No, he wouldn’t. He stared at her.

“Promise you won’t throw it away.”

He considered refusing, but Marissa would argue with him and quite frankly it wasn’t worth the trouble when he could just chuck it as soon as she left. She’d never know. “Fine.”

He picked up his coffee and sipped. Marissa smiled at him. He eyed his sister-in-law more closely as a thought about someone other than himself, other than Sabrina, crawled into his brain. Marissa appeared normal, no signs of aggravation or upset, save when Daisy demanded a cup of coffee.

Noah frowned. Odd. He’d thought she’d be hurt by Sabrina’s desertion, too, but she seemed fine. “Aren’t you mad?” he asked.

Marissa blinked at him. “That you aren’t reading the letter? No, you’ll do that in your own time.”

Noah shook his head. Not the letter. He didn’t care about the letter. Much. “That she left again.”

Understanding colored Marissa’s gaze and made one corner of her mouth turn down. “No, I’m not mad.”

Noah humphed. So he was alone in this. Alone in his hurt and disappointment. But then he was the only one whose life had been upended. The only one whose satisfaction with the status quo had been rattled and removed, leaving him lost.

Had it only been a few months ago that his life had seemed satisfactory? That he’d been content to tag along with his brother’s family, go on the odd date and fill his life with the duties of town leader? He didn’t feel like the same man. But maybe he wasn’t. Before Sabrina. B.S. A bitter smile curved his lips. How fitting. Maybe if he’d realized, he wouldn’t have been so quick to agree to her interviews, to allow her to use him because he offered a means to an end.

Marissa finished her coffee and put the cup in the dishwasher. “Make sure you eat something and don’t lock yourself in again. Kyle told everyone that you’d be back at work tomorrow.”

Noah winced. Work. Where everyone would know that he’d been missing and that this tied in rather conveniently with Sabrina’s departure. He didn’t know if he could take their well-meaning solace and advice. The humiliation that he’d been taken in and fooled might make them question his ability to lead.

“He told them you had a cold.”

“They won’t believe it.”

“They will.” She gathered the kids. “They care about you, Noah.”

He wasn’t so sure about that. They cared about the jobs he created in the community. They cared about him acting as a shield to prevent the likes of Pete Peters from turning their undeveloped green space into a strip mall. They cared about what he could do for them. But did they care about him?

For so long, he’d been Noah Barnes, mayor. Philanthropist. Giver. Caretaker. But he no longer knew if that was really him, or if they were just characteristics he’d slipped on, like a good suit, to create a persona that he’d thought he needed.

Because if he was just Noah, former hockey player, brother of Kyle and son of Ellen, would they still want him? Would he still be welcome?

He shook the confusing thoughts off. It didn’t matter. Because he wasn’t leaving and now that his free time was open, he could rededicate himself to them. Show them that they needed him, that their town wouldn’t be the same without him.

It would be enough. It had to be.