8. Noah
Chapter eight
Noah
T he screen door clicks shut behind her, the soft click echoing louder than it should in the quiet. Kate’s scent still lingers in the air-sweet, warm, and sleepy, threaded through the room like a secret; perhaps I’m the only one smelling it.
Kate’s gone hypothetically five seconds, and the air in the kitchen shifts like someone turned the pressure dial up a notch.
Nobody is speaking, but I can sense they are waiting, so I remain silent and don’t break the silence even when Maddox starts thumping his tiny fists against the table or when Emily pulls apple pie from the box like it’s some sort of peace offering.
My coffee’s gone cold in my hand, but I don’t bother taking another sip because my head’s still in last night. My mouth still tastes like her name, and my chest…my chest is a mess of things I don’t have words for.
“So…” Knox leans back against the counter, arms folded, voice casual. Too casual. “You wanna tell us who she is?”
I stare without seeing the grain in the table. Counting the scuffs in the wood like they might spell out an answer. Anything but meet their eyes.
Emily makes this soft sound like a hum dipped in mischief. “She was wearing your clothes, Noah.”
Knox snorts. “And your socks.”
I scratch at my jaw, even though it doesn’t itch. “She got cold.”
“Uh-huh,” Emily says, dragging out every syllable like honey over a flame.
Maddox giggles like he gets the joke.
I push up from my seat and grab a plate from the cabinet, like suddenly I need to serve this damn pie to survive. The knife clinks too hard against the dish. I know what they’re doing. They’re not asking. They’re circling. Waiting for me to slip up and hand them something real.
Knox tosses Parker’s abandoned dinosaur from one hand to the other. “She’s new in town?”
“Moved in a week ago.”
“Moved where?”
I pause. “The cottage.”
Emily’s brows lift.
“Convenient,” Knox mutters, and I shoot him a look sharp enough to draw blood.
He grins.
Then Emily, gentler this time, says, “What’s her story?”
I set the pie knife down.
“I don’t know.”
It’s the truth. The first honest thing I’ve said since this conversation started. I don’t know where she came from. I don’t know what she left behind. I don’t know who broke her or if anyone did. I don’t know her story.
Emily hands me a fork. “Eat. Before you implode.”
Knox scoops Maddox off the chair and ruffles his hair. “We’re not gonna say anything,” he says. “But just so you know? We like her.”
Emily leans in. “And we like you with her.”
I say nothing. The mug in my hand is empty, but I bring it to my lips anyway. Just to have something to do.
Emily hums, rocking Maddox gently. “What was her name again?”
I sneak a look in her direction. She already knows. “Kate,” I bite out.
She lifts her brows innocently. “Just checking.” I know they probably won’t rest unless I give them something.
“The cottage didn’t seem safe last night with the storm going on,” I say finally, voice flat.
Knox leans his forearms on the table, eyes on me now. Really dissecting. “It makes sense that you offered up the main house, yes?”
“I’m telling you, she was here because of the storm. That’s all.”
Emily smirks, unconvinced. “Right. And that storm just happened to knock her into your T-shirt drawer.”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to work out the knot forming there. “It’s not like that.”
“Mm.” Knox tips his mug back, eyes still locked on me. “Then what’s it like?”
Emily leans forward and keeps her voice casual. “So… where’s she from?”
I hesitate. My fingers tighten around the coffee mug.
“I mean, before Porthaven,” she prompts, slicing into the flaky crust. “She got family? Friends? A job?”
“Don’t know.”
Emily’s knife pauses halfway through a slice.
Knox whistles low. “You’re kidding.”
I shake my head once, jaw set.
“What about her kid?” Knox asks. “Parker, right? What happened to the dad? Is he in the picture?”
I breathe in sharply. Was that why she stopped me last night? I set the mug down harder than I meant to. “She didn’t say.”
Emily’s brows lift. “And you didn’t ask?”
“There’s no reason for me to interrogate her.” Except for the fact that I’m very much interested in her, I add to myself silently
Knox leans back in his chair and folds his arms behind his head like he’s watching a movie.
“So, let me get this straight. You invite a woman you barely know and let her sleep in your house? From the way things appear, something happened between you two, and you haven’t asked her a single personal question? ”
I look away, unable to deny the fact that something did happen and, more importantly, that things would have gone out of control if she hadn’t stopped me. My shoulders are tense, and heat is crawling up the back of my neck. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?” Emily’s voice is gentle. No teasing, no push. Just soft curiosity.
I swallow. My mouth tastes like ash.
I could tell them the truth—that I had been so close to making love to her, I had only come to my senses when she stopped me.
That for the first time in years I was wanting something. Someone. Her.
I barely slept through the night because my brain wouldn’t shut off; how I couldn’t stop sneaking out of bed to stare at her sleeping face lit up by the flickering candle and storm light, and keep the fire going so she would stay warm.
The way I peeked in on Parker and tucked him in again during the night.
But I don’t say any of that.
I can’t.
“Can we drop this conversation? I don’t make a habit of talking about my private life.” My voice comes out harsher than I intended.
“Your private life hasn’t existed since Josie,” Knox counters gently. “We’re not asking to interrogate you, man. We’re just…surprised. And curious.”
Emily grins. “And a little impressed.”
I exhale, jaw tight. “It wasn’t like that.”
Knox lifts an eyebrow. “No?”
“No,” I lie.
I eye the front door, my eyes catching on the faint mark her feet made from dashing through the storm. The curve of her bare leg flashing before the door closed behind her. My shirt hanging too loose on her frame. Her hair still tangled from sleep.
So, I lift my shoulders like none of it matters and mutter, “She just moved in, she doesn’t need me poking around in her business.”
Emily nods, slicing into the pie again, her eyes flicking to mine with quiet understanding.
“She didn’t seem to mind this morning,” she says softly. “She seems… accommodating and alive.”
Yeah. That’s what it felt like.
Being with Kate didn’t just feel good. It felt alive. It felt like color seeping into places I’d kept gray on purpose. It felt safe and accommodating.
And that terrifies me.
Because it means I feel something for her; feelings mean cracks. And cracks mean loss. And I’ve already watched what happens when something I love slips through.
Emily wraps the remaining pie back up and slides it toward me like an offering. “You can pretend it was just a night, Noah. You can try to play it cool. But she’s not just passing through, and you know it.”
“She has her business; she’s definitely not searching for a relationship,” I say too quickly.
Knox raises an eyebrow. “Did she say that?”
My lips press into a thin line. No, she didn’t. She didn’t need to spell things out; the way she stopped me spoke volumes, and that’s the problem because it grates on me.
They don’t push any further. They don’t have to. They’ve already said enough. Emily lifts Maddox, kisses his cheek, and walks toward the door. Knox follows, still watching me like he’s waiting for something I’m not ready to give.
The door creaks open. Before she leaves, Emily pauses in the doorway. “I’m really happy for you, Noah. I’ll stop by and give her some pie.”
The door clicks shut, and then it’s just me.
Me and the pie. The scent of warm apples and sugar pulls at something buried deep, something soft I’ve tried not to touch in years. Something that feels like home.
I stare at the note Emily taped to the top. “ Don’t say I never spoil you . – E.”
I smile, but I don’t really feel happy.
She slept right there on the couch last night, and her son in my guest room.
I watched them.
Something in me shifted.
And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
I don’t know what Kate wants. I don’t know what brought her here. For all I know, some man could be waiting for her somewhere, wondering when she’s coming home.
I don’t know if there’s someone out there waiting for her. Wondering when she’s coming back. Pacing a kitchen floor like I am now, imagining her in someone else’s clothes.
But I do know this—
She didn’t touch me like a woman who belonged to someone else. She touched me like she was starving for something only I could give her. Like her hands had been holding back for years, and last night, they finally forgot how.
She didn’t kiss me like she was lying to anyone. She kissed me like the world dropped out beneath her feet, and mine followed after. And yeah. Plausibly she lost her damn mind for a second.
But so did I.
Because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel empty. I felt… alive. Hungry. Human.
***
It’s been hours.
I’ve taken my shower and gotten out of the house, but somehow, I still smell her all around me. The air still holds the faintest trace of her scent even though I’m now in the field.
I thought throwing on a clean shirt and lacing up my boots would help. That heading out to the field and sinking into something familiar—something structured—might shake her loose from my mind. Didn’t work.
Coaching T-ball started out as a way to give back to the town. One of those “just for the season, Noah” deals that turned into every season. The kids like me because I'm patient, and I teach them how to hit hard.
The parents like me because I show up, I’m not an idiot, and I was once good enough to be on a full-ride baseball scholarship before I gave it up. Most days, I like it too. Because it reminds me of the good ol’ days.
But today? My head’s a damn mess.
Emily’s brother, Rachel’s husband, Tyler, who always helps out with community activities, is already dragging the pitching machine out of the equipment shed when I get there. Knox is setting up cones in his usual no-nonsense, ex-military way, like fielding drills are life or death.
The sun’s brutal today, even for spring. My shirt’s already sticking to my back, and the kids are wired from too much sugar and not enough water.
Me? I’m just trying to keep my head in the game.
But it’s useless.
My mind keeps drifting to last night. To soft gasps in the dark, and the way, her fingers curled in my shirt like she needed something to hold her together. The way she looked this morning, eyes sleepy, mouth flushed, my clothes swallowing her frame. Every detail’s seared into me, permanent as ink.
The air smells like cut grass and sun-warmed aluminum bleachers. The kids are trickling in, high-pitched voices rising, baseball gloves too loose-fitting for their tiny hands.
I roll my shoulders back and walk toward the dugout, trying to shove everything else out of my mind. It should’ve worked. Hell, it usually does.
I turn my head around, and there she is….
Walking across the grass like the breeze owes her something. Ponytail swaying, sunglasses perched on her nose. She’s got Parker by the hand, and he’s chattering about something, animated as ever, but all I see is her.
The way the sunlight glints off her skin. Parker chatters a mile a minute, and she’s laughing, soft and real, like her world hasn’t tilted the same way mine has. And just like that, I forget we’re not alone out here.
“Hey, Noah!”
I don’t register the warning fast enough.
The T-ball smacks me square on the side of the head with a dull thunk that echoes louder than it should. My hat goes flying. I stumble. There's a collective "oooohhh" from the kids, followed by Knox’s familiar snort.
Tyler’s grinning. “You good, Coach Bennett?”
I rub the side of my skull. “Peachy.”
Knox doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Might wanna keep your eye on the ball instead of whatever had you so distracted.”
He’s not subtle. Never has been.
I scoop up my hat and jam it back on my head, my jaw clenched. But my eyes betray me, dragging back to her. She’s by the bleachers now, brushing Parker’s hair off his forehead, nodding along to whatever story he’s telling. Her lips tilt into a smile that makes something twist in my gut.
I turn back toward the field, my heart hammering harder than it should. I’m supposed to be focusing.
Coaching. Leading drills. But all I can think about is how nothing, not even this, is enough to make me forget what it felt like to touch her.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
I rub my temple and turn toward the bleachers again to see Kate grinning behind her sunglasses, and it makes me wonder what she’s smiling at. Parker’s already running off and away from her and toward the field. She stands back, arms crossed, hip cocked.