Chapter Thirty Noah #2
“Fuck.” I drop my phone as I grab my shoulder, immediately tensing both of them. “What the hell are you doing?”
Another can whizzes by me, making me jump out of the way.
“I know what you did to the apartment,” she yells before hitting me in the thigh, making me yell again.
“You lied about who you are. You destroyed everything I own. You tracked me down to the middle of nowhere. And you think that I’m going to go without a fight? Clearly, neither of us knew the other.”
This time a can narrowly misses my face.
“Jesus Christ,” I bellow. “You’re the one throwing shit at me, and I’m the dangerous one?
” I’m rubbing my shoulder and partially limping from the charley horse I now have as I notice my phone is close by her feet.
“Just open my phone and look at the top message. It’s proof I’m here for what I say I’m here for. ”
She’s still holding a can up by her head, aimed right at me. “Why would I do that? I’m not listening to anything you tell me.”
I huff a laugh as I make my way a foot and a half over to a chair, flinching when she cocks the can back more.
“Easy, killer. I haven’t actively avoided dying for most of my life to have my headstone read, ‘Killed by creamed corn.’” I sit and wave a hand at the damn phone. “Would you please just look at the text?”
Goldie keeps her eyes on me as she slowly bends down and swipes my phone up quickly.
“Fine, but don’t move a muscle, because I’ve got a whole fucking stack of cans over here.”
I hold up my hands in surrender before I let out a breath and begin rubbing the knot out of my thigh.
Her eyes volley between me and the screen as she swipes it open, and I watch her thumb hit the message icon.
I chuckle at the irony . . . I’m the secretive one, but I don’t have a password on my phone. She looks at me, confused.
“Why am I looking at a picture of myself, Noah?” I don’t miss the way she winces when she says my name. “Did you take this this morning? That was you in the woods?”
I shake my head, relaxing back in my chair. “No. Look at the time stamp, Golds. I got that this afternoon after I found that PI who’s been looking into your birth parents. He was murdered in his car.”
She gasps, her eyes opening wider as her mouth stays agape.
“Before you get ahead of yourself . . .” My words are tinged with anger masking the hurt, because the way she’s looking at me with so much fear makes me sick to my stomach.
“Chase was with me when I found Matthew Wright. You can see in another text that he invited me there . . . Go on, look. So, if I did it, I’m really bad at crime.
Plus, Chase has been with me every day for the last week, so . . .”
If I hated the way she looked at me before, I hate the look she’s giving me now even more. The one where she isn’t even ashamed that she thought I could’ve done something like that in the first place.
I jerk my chin toward the phone. “Whoever sent that to me was letting me know that they could get to you. I made it my mission to get here first.”
She frowns like she’s going to say something, so I lift my hand to stop her.
“And before you ask me how I found you, that was also Chase. He recognized the fucking logo on the front of the shirt you had on.” I let out an exhale.
“He recognized it from a picture of my mother that was left stabbed to our front door after the apartment had been destroyed . . .”
Goldie cuts in, narrowing her eyes at me. “Your mother? Why would she have a Camp Weonoke shirt on?”
I lock eyes with her. “Because she was here around thirty years ago.”
Goldie shakes her head and looks down. I can see her thoughts playing out on her face, and they seem to be contradicting each other because she looks confused. Like she doesn’t know what to believe. Until her eyes lift and lock to mine.
“Five people were killed . . . in the massacre here.”
My head draws back slightly, confused how she knows. “My mom was the only survivor.”
Goldie’s chest moves up and down faster. “Was it the groundskeeper? Someone from Darkwater Bay?”
I run my hand through my hair as I stand up again, but take a step away from her so she knows she’s safe.
Our eyes are still connected, never leaving.
“How do you know that?” I don’t give her time to answer because I shouldn’t be asking anything of her. She deserves the truth.
I hold up my hand to stop her. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I can pretend it was for your own good, but lying is about being a coward. I was too afraid to lose you, to trust that you would stay. The groundskeeper was named William Bromley. He’s my father. And he’s alive.”
Even in the dim room, I can see her eyes shining with the intrusion of her tears.
“I never knew myself as Davis. That version of me lived behind so many locks. So when I invented Noah, it didn’t feel like a lie. I just wanted to start again. To become who I wanted to be on my terms without the baggage of my past.”
I run a hand through my hair, hating how even though she’s placed the can she was holding on a counter next to her, she’s still protecting herself by crossing her arms.
“Goldie . . .” My eyes don’t leave hers because I need her to really look at me.
“I grew up watching my mother always looking over her shoulder. My boogeyman was my dad. I thought I was protecting us, and I ruined us instead. And I put you in danger. You should never forgive me, but please let me get you out of here. It’s not safe. He’s here.”
Silence stretches out between us as her eyes search mine and words keep tumbling from my lips.
“He’ll kill you just because I love you.
And Goldie, I do love you. With every goddamn fiber of my being.
Even when I lied. When I hid. I don’t exist without you.
But that’s okay because I can let Noah die if I know you’ll be able to walk away and live the life you deserve.
” My eyes drop to the floor before I clear my throat, hoping my voice doesn’t break.
“You deserve it all. You deserve the fucking world . . .”
I take a step toward her on instinct, because she’s my comfort and I feel like I’ll never recover from this. From letting her go.
But her brows draw together, and her eyes go to my feet. She’s still scared of me.
“Please trust me.” The shakiness of my voice makes me clear it again. “I’m not my father. I would never hurt you.”
The lump in my throat grows with the realization that she may not believe that. I’ve made the girl I would die for unable to see me anymore. She was always the only one. That’s my real penance for these crimes.
Her arms fall to her side, my phone still in her hand, before she shakes her head and rushes toward me.
“I know you wouldn’t.” She breathes, “Noah, I’ll always know that.”
Before I can speak, her arms are around my neck and mine are wrapped around her waist as I lift her off the ground. It almost buckles me to my knees. My hands spread across her back, holding her tightly and inhaling her scent.
She shifts her head, bringing her lips to mine. We’re hungry and joyous, savoring the seconds because the distance has felt like a lifetime.
“I love you,” I whisper between our kisses. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She pulls away, her palms pressed to my cheeks. “You can make it up to me later with your life story . . . Let’s get Evie and get out of here because you’re right—he’s here. And I think he has help.”
Holy fuck.
A heavy breath leaves my body as I place her back on the ground. She turns her back to me as she heads toward the door she snuck in before looking back and holding out her hand. “Are you coming?”
I’m right behind her. Our fingers weave together as we head toward the party, the only thought in my mind cocked and loaded.
Tonight, I’m going to kill my father.