Chapter 33 #2
He takes a direct line out of the cafe and into the grocery section. I part the crowd with quiet “excuse me” and “pardon me” to get to him, but he’s moving too fast.
Concerned, I set my half-finished coffee down on the nearest flat surface and pick up my pace, leaving the crowd behind.
I pass Carly, who squeezes my arm in support, and Rome, who nods his respect, and even Aaron, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as he subtly scrolls through his phone.
I have to believe he’s working on important tasks relating to Stone. Otherwise, I’m sure Stone would’ve decked him on his way past.
It also serves as a stark reminder that I’ll never understand Stone’s life outside of Falcon Haven, one requiring constant management by other people because he’s watched by the world.
Maisy’s borrowed bed sheets can only protect him for so long.
I follow Stone’s steps into the back storage room, and though I’ve lost sight of him, a sudden arc of light in the darkened warehouse tells me he’s leaving.
“Stone!” I call, hoping to stall him before he gets into his car.
Racing outside, I hold a hand to my eyes, the sun bright and blinding in a clear, cold sky.
In seconds, my body takes priority, demanding I wrap my arms around myself to protect my exposed skin from the cold.
Snow has yet to fall, but that doesn’t mean the temperature is snowflake worthy.
“Stone!” My teeth chatter.
I don’t see him in the back alley where a thin, one-way road allows for trucks and cars to park. I figured I’d see his sleek black vehicle as soon as my eyes adjusted, but all that faces me is frosted-over curbs and black tarmac.
I haven’t heard the expensive purr of his engine, which gives me hope. My heels hit the pavement hard with my quick strides as I head to the corner.
Dread collects in my belly, ice chips trickling through my inner warmth. I don’t know why, but I feel like if I don’t catch him right now, I’ll never see him again.
An instinct, the unavoidable nudge of history repeating itself, collects inside me. He’ll say goodbye to his mother and leave for Hollywood again.
As much as we’ve been through together, I don’t know if I’m enough for him to come back to.
It’s a hopeless thought, dark, depressing, and perfectly encompassing my sadness over Mrs. Stalinski’s death.
All I know is I need to see him. One more time. His donation in my name plays like a reel inside my head, providing me with the strength to find him, but not enough to ask him to stay. Not if he doesn’t want to.
“Hey! Noa!”
I whirl at the sound of my name, surprised to see Saint running toward me with my coat on his arm.
Shivering, I halt in the middle of the sidewalk.
“I saw you run out of there,” he says, his breaths clouding the air between us. “Thought you might need this.”
“T-Thank you.” I turn, allowing him to settle the coat on my shoulders.
In time to see Stone round the corner and watch Saint smooth my jacket by my shoulders.
His expression hardens, his black woolen coat doing nothing to hide the bunching of his muscles underneath. He prowls closer.
“The fuck are you doing touching her?” he snaps at Saint.
Saint stays behind me, but I don’t have to turn to predict his casual enjoyment as he watches Stone approach.
“Getting the lady her coat,” Saint responds, “since it seems she was left to chase you down without one.”
Stone’s lip curls.
I raise my hand to Stone, quelling any insult or, let’s be honest, fighting words. If it were any other day, I’d push at Stone and tell him to choke on his jealous streak because it is so damned unnecessary when he’s the only man I see.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I say to Stone. “I was looking for you. Worried about you.”
Stone looks between me and Saint, suspicion lining his grief-stricken features.
“And, I assume, saying goodbye,” Saint says.
I wheel around to pin him with a look. “Thanks for the coat. You can go now.”
Saint rocks back on his heels, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. He’s a typical, arrogant, fearless chef, but even he has his limits and can resist baiting a man who just lost his mother.
I brace myself for the opposite.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Saint says to Stone.
“Thank you,” Stone clips out.
My shoulders relax.
“I didn’t come here to start anything,” Saint continues, “I was looking for Noa since you aren’t returning any of my calls.
Understandable, of course,” he adds when I open my mouth to argue, and Stone puts a possessive hand on my arm.
“I didn’t know your mother, though she sounds like an outstanding woman, so I’ll respectfully take my leave. ”
Stone relaxes his stance beside me. I finally allow myself to exhale.
“I just wanted to confirm you’ll be coming with me to Paris,” Saint says. “Our flight leaves in twenty-four hours.”
Oh shit.
Stone’s grip tightens like a vise. “What is he talking about?”
“Oh. Whoops.” Saint widens his eyes theatrically. “I’ll let you two figure it out.”
I could kill him. I really could if too much death didn’t already surround me. I settle for glaring daggers into his back as he walks away, mentally cataloging all the ways I’ll threaten him later.
“Noa.” Stone redirects my attention. “What the hell is he referring to?”
I sigh and face him; the wind picking up speed and billowing my hair behind me. It’s ice-driven and freezing, enough to overtake the blush I thought I needed. “It’s nothing like how he insinuated, and honestly, if it wasn’t such an opportunity, I wouldn’t go anywhere with that jerk.”
“Go where?” Stone’s eyes are as grey as the sky behind him. Overcast, impending, and wary.
It hurts to look at him. “To work in his restaurant. And go to culinary school enrolling in January. In?—”
“Paris,” he finishes, his voice chilled.
I swallow and nod. “This was before your mom?—”
Stone holds up a gloved hand to stop me. “You should go. She would want you to.”
My chest turns to ice. “What? Really?”
“It’s an amazing opportunity.”
“It is,” I agree, “but you’re important to me, too. That donation you made … I just heard about it, otherwise I would have thanked you weeks ago. Why didn’t you tell me? It’s not important. I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”
Stone’s expression shutters, colder than the air surrounding us and as unmoving as his new name. “It was the least I could do. You won’t deny the chef because of me, right?”
"Well, considering you tossed me over your shoulder and carried me out the last time I approached him…”
“I’m getting out of this town as soon as I can,” Stone cuts in. Coldly. “Aaron booked my jet to LA this evening.”
“And you’re going?” I hate how unsure my question sounds. Clingy and full of tremors, just like a decade ago. “But your speech just now…”
“Falcon Haven was important to my mother, yes. But she’s not here anymore.
And my home is in LA. We got each other through a horrible time, Noa, and I can’t thank you enough for being there for me and showing so much support, but I think it’s time we move on.
My mother wouldn’t want us to stay here because we felt some sort of debt to each other. ”
My mouth falls open, and I balk at him. “Debt? That’s what I am to you?”
He responds with a curt smile.
I’m sickened under its scope.
“We needed each other to heal our wounds from when we were children,” he says. “It’s time for us to grow up. What I said, what I did the night Ma was hurt, I was angry, emotional, and not being smart about your future when I went to a bar and picked a fight with a White Tiger.”
“You what ?”
“You were never meant to be a nurse,” he continues. “You should pursue your passion the same way I pursued mine. I don’t want to keep you from that.”
“I…” I fold my arms over my middle, as if that can keep me from tearing apart. “I was going to say yes to Saint”—and this part hurts the most— “You’re right. Mrs. Stalinski would want me to go. And I want to go.”
“So you should go,” Stone repeats.
He crosses his arms, retaining warmth as his cheeks and nose redden.
Another barrier.
“Who were we going to spend Christmas with, anyway?” he asks.
You .
But if I say it out loud, I might break.
I can’t believe he weakened me again. That I let him break through my carefully placed walls, that I could allow him to worm his way into a heart full of holes.
“Both our mothers are gone. Any invitations would be pity,” Stone reasons. “So go to Paris. Christmas in Paris is a sight to behold, and you deserve it.”
My face freezes into one of disbelief. I can’t look at him anymore, and my feet started retreating from the moment he snapped the remaining heartstring between us.
That’s why I don’t register the cold leather of his glove on my cheek or the way he yanks my face to his so abruptly and with such finality that I don’t have time to gasp when his lips capture mine.
The fiery heat of his mouth thaws my lips. They part for him, his silken tongue sending fireworks into my mouth as he strokes. Our heads angle, our teeth cut into sensitive flesh. We press so hard together, we’re icicles forming to a deadly point.
I moan into his mouth. It comes out as more of a lament, a please don’t go kind of sound, and it brings tears to my eyes.
Stone rips away, leaving both of us gasping opaque white clouds.
He gives me one last stare, his blue irises broken shards of beauty. “I wish you the best of luck, Noa. I really do.”
And with that, he turns, walking away for the final time.
I blink the tears back. My hands form fists at my sides.
And I remind myself that getting on that plane tomorrow is my damned decision and a chance to become the person I was always meant to be.