Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Noa
T he dying grass sparkles with frost in the rising sunlight, telling of an incoming snowfall. I look up at the sky as I stretch, as if the gray-blue sky can tell me when it’ll burst open with snowflakes.
Snow on Christmas would be amazing. Mrs. Stalinski would love it. I send a prayer into the morning sky asking for a snow day before picking up my feet and taking off.
It takes at least a mile before I find my breath and can focus on the audiobook I have playing in my earbuds. The tightness in my chest changes from a burn to a tolerable ache and my muscles warm, pulsing with action as I jog through the neighborhood.
I’m in the zone, relaxing into my thoughts and allowing my subconscious to work through the tougher aspects of my life, when a flash catches my eye.
I blink, and it’s gone. It occurred in my peripheral vision, and I’m thinking I imagined it when it happens again.
My steps slow. When I notice movement behind the hedges bordering the nearby park—deserted at this time of day because of the time of day and chilly weather—I pull my earbuds out.
“Noa-Lynn Shaw!”
I jolt at the unfamiliar, loud cry of my name.
“Miss Shaw!”
Someone else shouts my name from a different direction. My head jerk toward it.
Rushing feet follow, and suddenly, I’m cornered in the middle of the road.
“Miss Shaw, do you care to comment on the status of your current relationship with Stone Williams?”
“Can you confirm you’re together?”
“Are you aware of his playboy status, assault record, and choosing to commit to him, anyway? Wouldn’t you call that once shamed, twice burned?”
Cameras flash. I wince.
Men in dark clothing surround me. Not one of them sounds nice.
I do a slow spin, my eyes stretched wide in both shock and terror as phones focus on me, cameras zoom in, and voices shout over each other.
“How do you know who I am?” My question is shallow and breathy from my run. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“An anonymous tip came in.”
“I can’t disclose my source,” another one chimes in.
“Fact remains, someone has outed you as Stone’s new fling and next scandal. Everyone loves controversy, girl, so get ready.”
“Smile!”
Flash.
“N-No comment,” I stutter out while holding an arm up over my face. I try to break out of the circle, but I’m held back as they crowd in. “I said no comment! Leave me alone!”
“One last question. Is it true he asked you to abort your pregnancy so he could avoid a scandal and become successful?”
I freeze.
My ears lose all sound.
My mouth stops working.
Trembles overtake my body, and my knees buckle. Rapid blinks won’t stop the sudden onslaught of fire.
“Well? Can you answer me?” the same asshole asks.“Did he pay you to stay quiet?”
My lips peel back from my teeth. “ Fuck you!”
I rear forward to push him or claw at him; I don’t care which, the moment he presses record on his phone. “I take that as a yes.”
The last thing I see is his satisfied smirk before he’s ripped out of my eyesight and tossed to the ground.
“Stay the fuck away from her!” Stone’s roar echoes down the street.
Stone comes barreling toward me, his chest heaving and his lips twisted with vicious ire. He whirls, pressing his back against my chest and covering me from the cameras.
Behind his protection, it’s safe to sob. I tangle my hands in his coat, bury my forehead in the fabric, and let it out.
He stiffens at the sound. The muscles in his back spasm, his body vibrating with renewed fury.
“I said back the fuck off! Move!” he shouts, wrapping one hand around me as much as he can to keep me pressed against him. He uses his other to grab a man by the collar and toss him across the road, his camera clattering. “If you want to keep those cameras and your fingers, step away.”
“Hey, we’re on public property, man!” one says.
“We’re free to film you now that we know where you’re at!”
“She’s pretty, ain’t she? You think I can sell these photos and they’ll do a side-by-side of Miss Small-Town and Ravynn? Who did Stone do better?”
Air flies into my face when Stone leaps for the hapless paparazzi.
The other paparazzi scatter, half filming, half running away in terror. Stone didn’t become successful simply by being pretty. He’s muscled, fit, and has the endurance of a professional athlete. He uses those abilities to intimidate the paps to a distance, though they don’t disappear.
Even Stone can’t do that.
Breaths heavy, eyes concerned, he strips off his coat and covers me with it, hiding my face.
He takes my hand. “You’re safe with me.”
I let him lead me down the same path I had so effortlessly taken minutes ago. Where I’d felt safe and stayed comfortable under the advantage of privacy.
Now it’s all shattered.
“How do they know me?” My ragged whisper comes through the flaps of Stone’s jacket.
“I don’t know,” he mutters. “I’ve never mentioned your name. Not once. And you and I, we’ve done nothing in public.”
“Other than going to a couple’s cooking class together.” My stomach plummets at the thought of having to give up those classes. “Were we followed?”
“I don’t know.”
“And they—he asked—they asked about my…” It’s as if my body revolts, refusing to get the words out. “When I was pregnant.”
Stone grinds to a halt. His eyes flash as they land on mine.
“They know, Stone.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Impossible.”
“It’s fully possible,” I whisper. “If they have the right source.”
Stone’s eyes flare. “You think I had something to do with this? Noa, I received an alert on my phone as soon as you left this morning. I get one every time my name is in the press, and I had to read an article naming you as my high school sweetheart, who I’m rekindling with.
There’s a picture of you walking through town with me.
I came to find you as soon as I saw it. I don’t know how they …
Someone in town must’ve talked. Maybe fucking Carly. ”
“Carly would never,” I hiss. “I trust her like a sister. She’s the only other person who knew about us, and I told her about it last night.”
“Then how?” Stone throws his hands up.
He stares past me, noticing the reinvigorated paparazzi, and draws me forward again.
“Fuck this,” he mutters. “This is just the start. We need to get inside. Now.”
“What about your guy?” I retort. “Aaron. He’s wanted to spin why you’re here in Falcon Haven for months.”
Stone doesn’t answer. He storms to the house with me firmly in his hand. This isn’t like all those other times he grabbed me by the wrist. This is a command, tight and final, and if I don’t do what he says, I’ll be lost to the public eye.
Memories of the five months I had a baby inside me and the agonizing five months after they removed her from me resurface, reddening my vision and making me stumble.
I lost my mother and my baby. It took me so long to live with that grief and now these strangers want to make it theirs.
Stone rights me, and when I buckle, when I sob harder, he picks me up and carries me into the house.
He sets me on the couch, keeping his arms around me as I cry into his neck. His tendons strain, but his hand rubs circles on my back. I don’t want to see his face. I’m worried it’ll be the same as mine—wounded with shock and horror.
“Noa, what’s wrong?”
Mrs. Stalinski’s soft voice comes from the corner.
I raise my head.
She’s sitting in the sofa chair, comfortable under a heavy blanket and holding a steaming cup of tea. Stone must have carried her down.
“They know,” Stone croaks over my head.
Mrs. Stalinski’s expression falls. “Oh no.” She looks past us out the window, probably watching the vultures circle. Her face hardens. “There’s only one thing to do. Get out of here, Noa.”
I sniffle, collecting myself. “I’m not leaving you.”
“That’s not your choice. It’s mine and I’m telling you to get out of this house and go somewhere safe. Not home, but a hotel out of town. Somewhere you’ll be out of view until we can get this under control.”
“Ma, I don’t know if Noa should be left alone right now.”
Not I don’t want to leave Noa , I note.
“She damn well does.” Mrs. Stalinski’s voice rises to a level I haven’t heard in over a year, full of conviction.
“I love you, son, more than my own life, but involving yourself with her has made her endure pain all over again. I was hoping it would be different. Seeing you two the way you were, even yesterday, was like a healing balm on my soul. If you two were happy, that’s all I need to know before I let go.
But this …” She shakes her head as her eyes water.
“I don’t want this for you. I don’t want people feasting on Noa’s tragedy or my son’s perceived coldness.
To have my two favorite people picked over—no.
Just as it is Noa’s job to care for me, it is your job to protect her, my boy. ”
“I get a decision in this,” I protest, “and I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“I accepted my boy’s infamy a long time ago,” Mrs. Stalinski says levelly.
“You did not, nor do you have to. And if you stay, it will be all people will talk about. They knew he was here for months, yet only came at the mention of a high school sweetheart and a secret pregnancy. And they will stay for as long as they can get at that meat.”
I can’t argue with her. I drift away from Stone.
“Noa.” Stone’s words come out strangled. “I don’t want you to go. I do not want you to go out there. Stay with me. I’ll protect you.”
“Son,” Mrs. Stalinski warns.
I give a solemn shake of my head in her direction, communicating that I agree with her. I say to Stone, “If they ask me more questions about my daughter, I won’t be able to take it. Especially, especially if they call her unwanted.” My voice cracks. It hurts to breathe.
“Lavender …” Stone reaches for me.
I rise, getting as far away from his embrace as I can.
“I can fix this.” He stands with me. “I will track down who’s responsible, and I’ll raise hell.”
“What’s the point?” I ask. “It’s out there now. My tragedy is theirs. Your mother’s right. I have to go. I can’t be anywhere near you. The only way I’ll be safe in Falcon Haven is when you leave.”
Stone’s expression warps. He glances from his mother, then to me.
“I would never ask you to go,” I whisper harshly. “You stay with your mother. I’ll go. And I’ll make sure the best nurse takes my place.”
“I don’t want another nurse,” Stone shouts.
“I want you, Noa. You . You’re the best thing for this family.
The reason this house isn’t a skeletal, hollow version of what it could’ve turned into.
You cared for my mother when I couldn’t.
Loved her when I wasn’t here. And I’m—you’ve … you can’t leave. You just can’t.”
I swipe at the wetness on my cheeks. My lips are salty and damp. The tears just keep flowing.
And I say the one thing that will make him stop pushing. “Your mother doesn’t deserve this.”
Stone recoils like I’ve slapped him. Mrs. Stalinski’s mouth turns grim, her eyes dimming, but she gives me a tight nod.
“She deserves peace,” I continue, my words stilted. “Stability. Constant media at her doorstep would derail everything we’ve tried to build in this house.”
“They won’t leave just because you do,” Stone says stubbornly.
“But they’ll go a lot sooner,” I reason. “When they get bored with your routine with your mother and I’m not here, living with you and going to couples things with you, and…” loving you.
A pained line forms between Stone’s brows. He grimaces like his very muscles are atrophying under his skin. “You know I can’t argue with a statement like that. So fine. Go. But I’ll go first.”
He whirls, throwing the front door open.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. Stalinski asks.
I stare at him, my heart rusted like an anchor lost at sea.
“To break down Aaron’s door and make him explain what the fuck just happened,” he booms.
The door slams shut behind him.
I sniff and wipe my nose on my sleeve. It’s the only sound in a house plunged into silence.
“I’ll stay until he comes back,” I murmur to her.
“Dear, you’re staying until you’re okay to leave.” She pats the spot beside her. I do as she says, curling into her as she wraps an arm around me.