When Love And Destiny Collide (Linder Family #5)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Noah

The sun's harsh glare pierces through my windshield, blinding me. I fumble with the visor, but it's no use. In a heartbeat, the car in front of me stops abruptly. I slam on my brakes, the screech echoing like a scream. Bracing for the inevitable crash, I hold my breath, but the sound of crumpling metal never comes.

"Daddy!" my son's panicked cry from the back seat jolts me into action. I throw the car in park and leap out.

"Hey, buddy, are you okay?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"Daddy!"

"It's okay, Son. Let me get you out of there."

I quickly unbuckle Davey and pull him from the car, holding him close before setting him down beside me and gripping his hand tightly.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?!" A woman's shrill voice calls out, fueling the anger brewing inside me.

"Lady, what on earth were you thinking?!" I spin around, ready to give her a piece of my mind, but I'm stunned to see she's just a girl.

"Whoa!" she exclaims, her palms up in a defensive gesture.

"I almost hit you!" I shout. "Why the heck would you stop in the middle of the road?"

"Why are you being so hostile?" she fires back.

"You scared my son!"

"He's probably more scared by your aggressive reaction than by the car stopping."

"You're lucky I didn't hit you, kid!"

"Kid?! Now you're calling me a kid? You big, arrogant, angry, offensive, never-grew-out-of-my-toddler-stage dumb-a—"

"Daddy, look!" Davey interrupts, pointing toward the front of the girl's car.

I tear my gaze from her and look where Davey is pointing. We all watch as a family of ducks calmly waddles across the road.

"One, two, three, four," Davey counts. "There's four babies and a mama duck."

The young woman turns back to me, crossing her arms and glaring triumphantly.

"You're pretty," my five-year-old murmurs, his eyes wide with admiration as he gazes at her.

"Thank you," she smiles, her voice soft and kind. "You're sweet."

When her gaze shifts from my son back to me, the warmth in her eyes vanishes, replaced by a blaze of fiery hostility.

"Alrighty then," she says, her voice laced with contempt. "There’s nothing I can do about your sour disposition. But since your son and your car seem unscathed, I’m leaving."

"Wait," I start, trying to salvage the situation. "I'm—."

"No, no," she interrupts, raising her hand, her sapphire-blue eyes piercing into mine with unsettling calm. "Don't bother apologizing. You're clearly not from around here, so let me give you a heads-up: we have ducks. Sometimes, the occasional raccoon, possum, or deer. Try not to run over any of them while driving on our roads."

"Pardon me," I say, struggling to rein in my temper.

"You heard me," she says, turning to walk away.

"I'm not finished talking, young lady."

"Well, I'm done talking to you, Sir."

With that, she climbs into her car and drives away, leaving me seething.

"Can we go now, Daddy?" my son's voice slices through the tension, but not my rising blood pressure.

"Yes, get back in the car. Make sure you buckle up."

Sapphire? Since when do I describe any shade of blue as sapphire? And when did I become a sir ?

I climb back into the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel as I try to focus on the road ahead. Returning to Cold Spring was never part of the plan, but this town is my home. My brother, Jon, and his family are the only ones we have left. Davey needs strong family ties and a sense of belonging. He'll have cousins to play with and his aunt and uncle to help me raise him. Staying in Japan made no sense after Marian left, abandoning our fifteen-year marriage and our son without a second thought about how her absence would affect him.

Her “Dear John” letter was stapled to divorce papers and a signed custody agreement granting me sole custody of our son.

***

"Shay!" I exclaim when my sister-in-law opens the door.

"Noah!" she cries, throwing her arms around me. "Come in! Hi, Davey! Oh my goodness, when did you get so big?"

"I'm five now!" Davey announces proudly, holding up five fingers.

"What took you so long?" My brother's deep voice is a resounding welcome and music to my ears.

"Jon!" I exclaim, rushing to hug him tightly.

"We would've been here sooner, but we almost got into a fender bender just a few miles from here."

"Are you okay?" Sharon's voice is tinged with concern.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Some girl slammed on her brakes in front of us to let a family of ducks waddle across the road. I nearly hit her, and it scared Davey pretty bad.”

“I’m okay, Daddy,” Davey chimes in, trying to sound brave.

“You’ll have to get used to stopping for the local wildlife,” Sharon chuckles.

"So I've heard," I reply with a smirk. "The woman I nearly hit made sure to stick around just long enough to give me a brief lesson on road etiquette— and a thorough tongue lashing."

Jon's loud guffaw makes me laugh, too, as I realize I got schooled by a girl half my age.

“Are you two hungry?” Sharon asks, her eyes twinkling with love.

“We ate in New York,” I say, glancing at Davey. “I’d like to get to the house and unpack, and Davey should take a nap.”

Sharon’s smile widens. “I still can’t believe you bought your family's old house after all these years.”

“We got lucky,” I say, unable to hide my grin. "I'm happy to be home."

"I'll come with you," Jon says. "Do you remember the neighbors?"

"Patrick and Cara Lewis? Yeah, I remember them."

"They’ll be thrilled to see you again," Jon assures me.

"Oh, that reminds me," I say, changing the subject. "When I closed on the house last month, you mentioned something about a tenant?"

"Yes, Lily Cruz," Jon replies. "She’s a family friend and our grandchildren’s babysitter."

"Really? Do you know when her lease ends?"

"Lily doesn't need a lease," Sharon says. "We consider her family."

"Alright," I nod, smiling. "Your family is my family."

"She was Laila's roommate back in Boston," Jon adds. "After Laila and Sam got married, Lily moved here. She's opening a daycare next to Sam's art studio."

“Speaking of," I begin, "how are your girls?”

Jon's eyes light up with pride. “Fantastic. They’re soaking up the sun in Florida right now. We're heading down there next week to join them.”

“Did you keep Mom’s house in Boca Raton?”

“Yeah,” Jon nods with a smile. “It’s our little retreat. We go there a few times a year. When we’re not using it, I rent it out.”

“You stayed behind to wait for us,” I say, feeling a surge of gratitude for my older brother, almost like I did for our father.

He looks at me, his eyes softening. “I hadn’t seen you in nearly two years. I wasn’t going anywhere until you got here.”

I smile and nod. “Thank you for that. It means a lot.”

“I was twenty when you were born,” his voice is thick with emotion. “You've always been more like a son to me than a brother. I love you, little brother.”

“I love you too, Jon.”

“Enough, you two,” Sharon chimes in, her eyes glistening. “You’re going to make me cry.”

***

Walking into my childhood home after almost three decades is unbelievably surreal. Everything feels both familiar and foreign, like stepping into a distant memory.

"What do you think of all the updates?" Jon asks, his voice pulling me back to the present.

"I appreciate that everything is new, but the house's charm is still intact." I run my fingers along the polished banister, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Davey," Jon says, turning to my son, "do you want to check out your new room?"

"Yeah!" Davey shouts.

We race upstairs, laughter echoing through the halls as we burst into my old room.

"Wow!" Davey shouts, his eyes wide with wonder as he looks around his room. The walls burst with color, and a vibrant Toy Story mural brings his favorite movie to life. It's a masterpiece that not only delights Davey but also stirs my own childhood memories.

"It's Woody and Buzz Lightyear!" Davey exclaims, his voice full of excitement. "and, look, Daddy, it's Rex the dinosaur!"

"Lily painted the mural," Jon explains. "When I told her about the dinosaur-themed mural from your childhood, she added Rex just for you."

A smile spreads across my face. "She did an amazing job," I say, my heart warming at the thoughtful touch. "Thank you so much for getting the house ready for us."

"You're welcome," Jon replies. "But I can't take all the credit. Sharon and I picked out the furniture, but Lily was the one who spent countless hours decorating every room and making sure no detail was missed."

"It's home," I say, feeling a sense of belonging.

"Welcome home," Jon says, clapping me on the back. "It's good to have you back."

***

After a much-needed nap, I wander downstairs to start on dinner. The pantry and refrigerator are brimming with enough groceries to last a month. I reach into the fridge, retrieving roast beef and cheese, while the ripe tomatoes in the wire basket on the counter catch my eye. Perfect , I think to myself, roast beef melts it is.

Half an hour later, I hear the pitter-patter of little feet on the upstairs floor.

"Daddy!" Davey calls out.

"Down here, Son. Dinner's ready."

He shuffles into the kitchen, barefoot and rubbing his sleepy eyes with his fists. I smile as I watch him climb onto one of the stools at the center island.

I set our plates down, and we both dig in, the flavors mingling with wonderful memories of this house. Every corner echoes with the laughter and loud voices of my family dinners. When I was ten, we moved to Japan to be closer to my grandparents and uncle. By the time my parents returned to the States, I was already married to Marian, believing with all my heart that she was my soulmate. I was convinced our love was unbreakable, just like Jon and Sharon's, and we'd spend the rest of our lives together.

"Daddy, can I have ice cream after dinner?" Davey's eyes sparkle with hope.

"We'd have to make a trip to the ice cream shop," I reply, strolling to the freezer. "Or stop by the grocery store to pick some up."

But as I open the freezer, I chuckle. Nestled among the frozen peas, strawberries, and blueberries are two pints of ice cream—rocky road for Davey and cookie dough for me. A sticky note with two words: “Welcome Home” is taped to one of the lids. They literally thought of everything.

After dinner and dessert, Davey takes a shower while I wash and dry the dishes. He brushes his teeth and changes into pajamas. Then we both sit on the couch and turn on the television to watch Toy Story for what must be the hundredth time. I smile as I pull my son close, his small frame fitting perfectly against me. An hour later, I glance down to find him fast asleep, his gentle snores a soothing rhythm.

I close my eyes, trying to relax, but suddenly I murmur, "Sapphire." My eyes snap open, my heart pounding as I realize I was talking in my sleep. What was that?! I had been dreaming about the accident we narrowly avoided. In my dream, the young woman approached me, fire blazing in her sapphire eyes. I had rear-ended her, and she was furious.

My mind drifts, inevitably landing on thoughts of her, and I scold myself. She can't be over twenty years old, for Pete's sake! But Davey’s right—she's pretty. No, not pretty, stunning. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back as she walked away from us. Her slim figure was perfectly balanced from head to toe. Every inch of her was beautiful. Those blue eyes, striking against her flawless olive skin, were mesmerizing. She had full, pouty lips, and a single dimple graced her left cheek when she smiled at my son, making her even more beautiful.

Okay, that's enough!

I extricate myself from the couch, careful not to wake Davey. Heading upstairs, I start unpacking the few belongings we brought from Japan. It hits me that I need to take Davey shopping for more clothes.

I walk into the room designated as Davey's playroom, a nostalgic replica of my own from all those years ago. The bookshelf is packed with books, and as I pull a few out, I'm pleasantly surprised to find my work nestled among popular titles. I’ve been writing children's books for almost twelve years, something I haven't shared with my family. They still believe I'm a mechanical engineer. As I sift through the shelves, I count seven of my books, a quiet testament to my hidden career under my pen name, Shay David. Shay is the nickname I gave Sharon when we first met—I was four, and she was my nanny. That's how she and my brother met. David is my father's and my son's name.

I head back downstairs and gently scoop up my sleeping boy, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. With school starting in three months, I make a mental note to enroll him in kindergarten and find a babysitter for after school. After tucking him in and pulling the covers snugly around him, I walk to the door and reach for the light switch.

"I love you, Daddy," Davey murmurs, clutching the covers and turning over in bed.

"I love you too, Son," I whisper, my heart swelling with love as I watch him drift back to sleep. How a mother could walk away from her four-year-old son is something I will never comprehend, let alone reconcile.

I panic when I hear the phone ring, realizing I left it downstairs. I sprint down the steps to catch it in time, but when I pick it up, the name on the screen makes my blood run cold. "Speak of the devil," I mutter as "Marian" flashes before my eyes.

After everything she’s put us through, a touch of passive aggression seems more than appropriate. So, I let the phone ring endlessly, savoring the sweetness of each unanswered chime before finally picking it up.

"Hello," I answer, my voice as flat as a steel plate.

"Hi, love," she replies, her British accent as thick as ever.

"Yeah," I say, firm on my commitment to terse, single-word responses.

"How was your trip?"

"Fine," I manage, feeling a small victory in my minimalism.

"Has David gone to bed yet?"

"Yes."

"You two must be exhausted. Did I wake you?"

I glance at the clock—it’s almost eight.

"No."

"All right then. I’ll call David in the morning. Would ten be okay?"

"Yes."

"Good night, Noah."

"Night."

As I hang up, triumph and petty satisfaction wash over me. It's not exactly a noble feeling, but it’s honest. Tomorrow, I promise myself, I’ll be better. I’ll answer the phone on the first ring, and maybe, just maybe, my responses will stretch to two or three words. Tonight, though, I’m not ready to let go of the grudge that leaves me feeling empty.

I start up the stairs, but a sudden knock on the back door freezes me in place. Who could it be at this hour, and why the back door? My mind races—maybe Patrick heard about my return. I head to the kitchen, peering through the curtain but seeing nothing.

I open the door, ready to greet Patrick, only to find myself staring into the sapphire eyes I haven’t been able to shake from my thoughts all day.

It's her.