22. Victoria
Chapter 22
Victoria
“ I like your laugh.”
I froze with a chip halfway to my mouth.
Another episode of Schitt’s Creek played while we sat side by side on Noah’s couch. Slowly, he was learning to sit still. He didn’t pace as much as he used to, and when he didn’t have Tess strapped to his chest, he still dropped to the floor to do pushups or sit-ups, but only between episodes. During season one, he’d do it every ten minutes or so, to get his excess energy out.
Now he insisted on braiding my hair when I walked in the door. He had mastered the regular braid and was now learning to French braid. Or “Elsa braid” as he liked to call it.
I was sitting on the floor, his strong legs on each side of me. If I turned my head too much, I got an eyeful of muscular hamstring.
At the moment, he had his hands threaded through my hair. Keeping the strands separate and adding was giving him a lot of trouble.
He dropped the hair with a huff and tapped my shoulder. I turned and looked up at him.
“Why are you making that face?” His eyes softened. The man was so damn perceptive. He could sense small shifts in my mood, sometimes even before I did.
“It’s nothing.”
He stole the bag of chips and held them out of my reach. “It’s not. Talk.”
Lips pressed together, I exhaled through my nose and stood, retrieving the bag and sitting next to him. “My ex always said I had an annoying laugh.”
He stiffened. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nope.” I emphasized the p , my lips making a popping sound. “He said it was too much.”
He had that opinion when it came to a lot of my qualities, really. I was too loud, too excitable. My hips were too wide, my ears too big, and my taste was terrible.
“You know how wild my hand motions get when I’m talking, and yeah, I am loud, but he was so offended by it.”
He arched an unimpressed brow. “And you were okay with that?”
I winced. Every time I talked about Graham, I was surprised by how bad things sounded out loud. While I was wading through the thick of things, it all seemed normal. I’d always figured that he loved me and wanted what was best for me. That he was only telling me so I could work on reining in my flaws. So maybe my laugh was weird. Maybe I should have been quiet and serious.
“We’d go to charity events or out to dinner with his clients, and afterward, in the car on the way home, he’d scold me for what I said or how I behaved.”
Noah scooted forward, narrowing his eyes. “He scolded you?”
I examined the tortilla chip I was still holding, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “Yeah. He’d pick apart everything I said and point out all my wrongdoings. I was too loud. I’d said something that embarrassed him. I should have passed the pepper to the right. That kind of stuff.”
Sighing, Noah kissed Tess’s head. She was nestled in one of his many wraps, snoozing on his chest. It was stupidly adorable. This big, strong man dressed in sweats and a tight T-shirt, all his ink on display, with a purple baby swaddle thing wrapped around him and those sweet blond curls peeking out.
Thank God I wasn’t attracted to men anymore. If I was, it would be a problem.
A serious problem.
“Vic, I say this with total respect. But why did you allow this man to live?”
I grasped the throw pillow beside me and considered tossing it at him. In the end, not wanting to wake Tess, I settled for flipping him the bird while shoving a chip into my mouth.
It started when I was a child. The feeling that I was too much. I’d always had a tendency to get overly excited about things. At school, I sat in the front row and raised my hand each time the teacher asked a question.
I cared.
I tried hard.
Yet, for some reason, that was bad.
“My mother was always horrified by me.” I picked at the fringe along the edge of the throw pillow, pushing down the defeat that always plagued me when I talked about the way my mom treated me when I was a child. “My crooked ponytail, my loud voice. She called me a loudmouth. Sometimes I interrupt people. I know it’s rude, but it’s not intentional. I just get so excited.”
“It’s okay.” He squeezed my knee and stood. From the way he eyed the floor, then his sleeping daughter, it was clear he wished he could drop and do a set of pushups, but he settled for lunges instead. I didn’t mind. In fact, I liked it. This meant he was comfortable around me. That he didn’t feel as though he had to force himself to sit still when the urge to move hit him.
“No, it’s not. It even affected my career. I’ve never mastered the ability to be cool and impersonal. Looking stone-faced in meetings? Forget it. I’d feel things, and you know me.”
He turned back toward me, one leg out, hands on his hips. “Yeah. You have no poker face.”
“Long ago I made peace with the knowledge that I’d never be one of the cool girls. You know, all aloof and disinterested and quiet.”
“Can I offer something?” He stepped, lunged, and stepped again, then turned.
I picked up my water bottle, appreciating the view of his very round, very muscular ass in those mesh shorts as he squeezed his glutes.
“Have you ever thought that maybe it’s not that you’re too much? Could it be that the people you surrounded yourself with weren’t good enough? Graham wasn’t good enough for you. He wasn’t smart enough, passionate enough, kind enough.”
I blanched.
He spun and straightened, adjusting his hat. “And instead of realizing that and pushing himself to be better, he convinced you that you were the problem and made you feel small, which made it easier for him to control you.”
His words hit me like a punch to the face. Holy fucking shit. “We’ve been friends for a matter of weeks, and already, you’re cutting to the heart of it. I spent eight months in therapy, and it took at least half that for me to get there. I’m still learning to embrace my big feelings.”
He shrugged. “Maybe big feelings are your superpower.”
That was truly laughable. “Oh, please. You’re a man. You can get away with saying that shit, but women? Can’t have feelings, lest we make the menfolk uncomfortable.” Out of habit, I waved my arms wildly.
“Feelings don’t make me uncomfortable.” He sat on the floor in front of me, patting Tess’s back. “For my entire adult life, I’ve compartmentalized and suppressed feelings. They had no place in my job or in my life.” With a soft smile, he dropped a kiss to her head. “Now? I’m all feelings, and it’s okay. There are days they pile up on my chest like bricks and I worry I won’t be able to breathe—”
“Noah.”
“For years and years, I pushed it all down. I didn’t feel connected to myself, let alone anyone else. I learned in childhood to channel my manic energy into physical stuff.”
“Hence all the injuries.”
He nodded. “If not for Jude, I’d be dead. He talked me out of so much stupid shit and dragged my ass home every time I broke a bone. But that mindset fucked me up.”
“I’m sure.”
“By the time I hit high school, I was itching to get away from my family, to get away from everyone. Because I was crazy and wild and untethered. Every woman I ever dated told me I was best in small doses.”
My heart panged for him. Scooting back, I pulled my legs up under me. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means I had no depth. No points of connection. I was the wild, fun guy. Nothing more.”
With a frown, I studied his serious expression. “I don’t believe that.”
“I chased the lifestyle that reinforced my beliefs. I was constantly on the move, constantly looking for excitement and danger. It made sense for me. I was that guy.”
I slid onto the floor next to him and put my arm around his broad shoulders. “You are not that guy. You’re a hell of a lot more than that guy.”
“And you’re fucking perfect.”
His words hung in the air between us, making it hard to breathe. Normally I’d brush off a comment like that, but the sincerity in his eyes was like a blow to the solar plexus.
His focus dipped to my lips, like maybe he was considering kissing me again. We hadn’t spoken of the almost kiss that was interrupted by psychotic Olaf or the one we’d shared by the pool, the one for show, but I’d thought about both almost constantly.
But I was drawn to him. I was both comfortable in his presence and challenged by it.
Could it happen again?
I leaned in almost imperceptibly, watching his face.
Before I found the courage to move in closer, he looked away.
Okay, then.
In one quick move, he was on his feet and patting Tess’s back again, headed for her room.
I scrambled back up onto the couch and focused on my breathing, embarrassed by what I’d almost done and hoping like hell he hadn’t noticed.
When he emerged a few moments later, he gave me a big thumbs-up. I still couldn’t quite believe Tess was sleeping in her crib. It felt like this massive accomplishment.
I thought we’d watch TV and ignore the tension that had been building.
But no.
Instead, he sat right next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. I was hit with a wave of warmth from his strong body and the desire to burrow into his chest.
“I meant what I said.” His voice was soft yet urgent. “You are perfect. You are so good at what you do. Your passion is inspiring.”
I clutched my hands in my lap and fixed my focus on them.
“It’s clear by the conviction you possess when you talk about food insecurity that you want to help every single client who walks through that door.”
My chest tightened. “I do.”
“Exactly. Superhero. Don’t let your toxic mother and ex-husband convince you otherwise.”
Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. This man was so good to me.
“When I came back, it meant escaping them and all the stories I’d told myself over the years. I can be myself in Lovewell.”
“Of course you can. The town loves you for who you really are.”
“I ran away from my life and took the job to help Aunt Lou. I wasn’t sure I’d stick with the food pantry, but it didn’t take long to realize it was my calling. And the more time I spend here, the more I feel like my old self. I wear the clothes I want to wear. I can grow out my hair.”
With a smile, he tugged on the ends of my hair. “I like your ponytails. And you love running the food pantry.”
I really, really did. I didn’t notice it at first. In the beginning, I did it to help Aunt Lou and to keep myself busy. Now? It was a part of me.
“Most days it feels like I’m pushing a rock up a hill. But it gives me purpose and allows me to use my energy for good. The headaches are endless. Handling suppliers and grants and managing clogged sinks and broken freezers and deliveries is exhausting. There are days I dream of going back to the corporate world.”
He sat beside me, his blue eyes darker. The intensity of his stare made my stomach drop.
“Then I’ll send a family home with groceries and know kids are being fed because of my efforts, and it’s all worth it.”
He broke out in a slow smile, those dimples taunting me.
“Good. I’m glad you can acknowledge how amazing you are.”
I snorted. “What about you? Do you miss the fires?”
In an instant, the joy in his expression was gone.
“Honestly?” He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “Yes. I do.” A sharp burst of air left him. “It’s a shitty thing to say. I know that. Fire is terrible. It destroys lives and homes. But when we’d load up to deploy to a fire, the buzz, the focus, would take over. Knowing that even if I didn’t come back, I was doing something good. That my life would be meaningful.”
My stomach plummeted. I’d never left for work wondering if I’d come home alive.
“I miss that version of myself. The man who can home in on what needs to be done rather than the kid with ADHD who didn’t read until third grade. When I’m coordinating a response, I’m sharp, and all the noise disappears. The world gets clear. And I’m good at it. Or at least I was.”
I grasped his hand. “You’re a great dad. And you have so much potential. Yes, your life has changed, but it’s far from over. Trust me. I started over in Lovewell, and I’m better than ever.”
He pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me.
I did the same, putting my head on his shoulder.
“I’m scared,” he said softly. “What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t build a good life for my baby girl or be the dad she needs?”
“It’s okay to be scared.” I held him a little tighter. “But don’t you dare think you’re not enough. You, Noah Hebert, are amazing. And your little girl is lucky to have you.”
He lowered his head, and we stayed like that, supporting one another for a long moment.
“And,” I said, “I’m lucky to have you too.”