Chapter 3
Noah probably shouldn’t have been surprised to find Raemy basically on his doorstep the next morning, but he was.
Maybe surprised wasn’t the right word.
He felt like she was a throat punch, really. A direct and deadly shot, straight into the most vulnerable part of his neck.
Or that’s what he told himself to explain why he coughed when he stepped out into the cold morning gloom to find her on the road outside his door, because that was better than any other expression of surprise he could come up with.
Much less the ones he couldn’t control.
“It’s early,” he said flatly. “What are you doing?”
It was a very foggy, very early morning.
The sunrise was going to be more theoretical than actual when it made an appearance closer to 7 a.m., thanks to the press of all that wispy fog.
But it was just about 5 a.m. now and Noah was headed out for his daily run in the dark, and he did not expect to find a bolt of human sunshine standing there on his doorstep.
He did not live on the Oregon coast because he was about sunshine.
“I was wandering by and I saw the lights on in this house, which I guess is yours,” Raemy told him in that happy way she had, that he decided ought to be outlawed.
“I didn’t actually know that until you appeared.
But I woke up and there was all this fog and it was so atmospheric that I wanted to get out in it as soon as possible. ”
She was chattering along as if they met like this all the time and it was perfectly normal for her to be here in the first place. While dressed in another selection of impossibly bright clothing that was offensive, truly.
That was why he was staring. Obviously.
And at least her hair was partially tamed into something resembling a braid. He told himself that was slightly better. Slightly more manageable.
“This is my grandfather’s old house,” he said, stiffly. “I live here now.” Really, asshole? He was just grateful none of the guys were here to witness this. Whatever this was. He coughed again. “Some of the other men do too. But I’m going on a run. So.”
“Running.” Raemy wrinkled up her nose, which was one more thing that should not have been allowed. Legislatively. “That sounds terrible. Let me guess, you heave yourself up and down the beach, it’s punishing and very likely gross, but it’s all very fitness-y and good for you.”
It was all of those things.
“I enjoy running,” he bit out. “I’ve always liked PT.”
“That sounds masochistic, honestly,” she said, with that laugh that he’d spent entirely too long last night pretending he wasn’t replaying again and again and again in his head.
He braced himself to contend with whatever new horror she intended to visit upon him, but to his surprise, she just...took off.
Making him realize, as he stood there feeling foolish on his own doorstep, that she really was out on a walk in the dark foggy morning.
She was not sleeping in her car—which he knew because he recognized all the cars parked out here, on the road that led to the lighthouse.
She was not hanging around, trying to get in his face or talk to him more.
Or grab onto his hand and hold on, which he couldn’t actually feel like a brand into his skin. That was dramatic. And Noah was many things, none of them good, but he had never been dramatic.
Raemy was just out on a walk like a great many other people either were already or would be soon, because going on walks was a thing people did everywhere. And particularly did here, because everyone loved a beach walk no matter the tide or the weather.
But it was so early, so that meant she was staying here, as threatened.
Right here in Wild Rose Point, and Noah was going to have to...
get used to that? To unexpected encounters with one of his deepest regrets, all dressed up in too-bright colors—yellow and magenta today—and that damned smile of hers?
He couldn’t take that in.
So he got moving and ran hard about it instead.
He ran up and down the beach, much faster than usual, which meant he got to do an extra couple laps.
And that meant he was really feeling it when he finally got back home and threw some weight around in the makeshift weight room he kept in what had once been his grandmother’s screened-in porch.
He was in a shit mood all day, according to literally everyone.
Noah didn’t think he was in any particular mood, but all the men had to comment on it. There were snide comments about his hormone levels at his advanced age, since mid-thirties was ancient to some of the newer little punks. There was commentary on bears trapped in snares, and the like.
All the usual ribbing, which, today, Noah found significantly less funny than he might have at another time. Not that he’d show it, but it seemed the way he was not showing it today was too much for them.
“Not that you’d be able to tell if our Staff Sergeant was in a bad mood or not,” Tank said with a laugh while doing something dramatic to his cake batter. “Not if we’re being honest here. What’s the actual difference between grumpy and taciturn?”
“High school English class,” Noah retorted. “Which, far as I can tell, you didn’t take.”
But he immediately regretted engaging, because that only made it worse.
Usually, he liked early mornings at the diner. He had his usual opening customers, usually a selection of his grandfather’s rickety old cronies and a whole lot of other gray- and white-haired folks who liked that Noah opened at 6:30 a.m. on the dot.
Every single morning, without fail.
He liked the routine of the breakfast shift.
He liked making sure that there was strong, good coffee at every table.
That meals came out fast and filling. He liked the buzz of conversation, a little quieter because of the early hour, but there.
And he particularly liked that there was something about the morning that lent itself to leaving him alone about what his face might or might not be doing at any given moment.
He also liked the lull when the rush was done.
The current crop of veterans who were living and working here was a particularly good one. Meaning, they read each other pretty well, gelled when they had to work together, and didn’t drive each other crazy with the living accommodations.
That wasn’t always the case, as he’d discovered over the years, so he’d learned to be grateful when it was.
He sat behind the counter with his laptop, catching up on his email, which was where a lot of vets reached out to him.
And a lot of veteran charities and organizations he always liked to reply to, because the way he figured it, there was never enough attention paid to veterans.
They could always use more services, more places to land, and more care from the communities they put their lives on the line for.
Noah took it very seriously that he got to be a mouthpiece for the men and women he’d served with.
When the door opened, he caught a flash of unbearable brightness out of the corner of his eye, and he knew before he looked up who would be standing there.
Sure enough, it was Raemy once again.
This morning’s brightly colored ensemble had apparently been her early-morning walking clothes, because now she was wearing jeans.
The jeans had ridiculous patches on them, in shapes that his brain told him were citrus fruits, or possibly small mammals, but the rest of him refused to accept that possibility.
She was wearing a striped sweater, every single stripe in a different, outrageously bright color.
And her hat was a handknit scream of fire engine red.
Really, he thought, this was all going too far.
“Did you know that there’s this amazing metaphysical shop just up the road?” asked Raemy in that bright voice of hers, even brighter than her clothes, which was possibly the most offensive thing yet.
Like they were the only two people in the diner.
The way she was looking at him, it was possible she thought so, but he couldn’t actually let that kind of thought land. That was asking for way too much trouble.
“Raemy,” he bit out before he could think better of it, and her name in his mouth was not helpful. “I don’t know what you’re doing here. I don’t know what you want.”
“Just now,” she said, looking at him curiously, as if he was the problem, “I was wondering if you’ve been into the Water Witch.
Because it’s adorable. It’s so cute. I’m going to get my tarot cards read later this afternoon, which is delightful.
Don’t you think it’s delightful? Has anyone read your tarot cards?
” She wrinkled up her nose again and someone was going to have to start issuing citations.
“You don’t strike me as a tarot kind of guy. ”
“I don’t know what you’re looking for,” he growled at her. “I can’t pretend to have this kind of relationship with you. I’m the man who ruined your family. Have you been in an accident? Do you not remember that?”
She was smiling still, but there was something different in her gaze then. Something a little harder, maybe. More focused.
“Are you the one who blew him up?” she asked, not exactly flatly.
But she threw it out there, all the same, and it was harsh.
It was meant to be, he could see, and he had always considered himself unflappable—but he flinched.
“Was that you, Noah? Because I was pretty sure the official report stated, unequivocally, that it was enemy forces.”
“We shouldn’t have been there.”
“Were you acting on your orders? Or did you receive orders from someone else?” she fired back, coolly.
He slammed the lid of his laptop closed. “Once again, I appreciate you coming here. I’m happy to tell you details about William’s time in the Marines. But I can’t... This isn’t...”
“You can’t blame yourself.” Her voice was quiet.
Intense. “I mean, it looks like you can and you do, but I don’t blame you.
My parents don’t blame you. And I think we both know that if William was alive, he would never have blamed you.
” That damned smile again. “He idolized you. You were his hero. He used to write us letters that were all about you and how he hoped that when he was older and further along in his career, he’d be just like you. ”
“He never got a chance to do that, did he?” Noah gritted out, because it was the right thing to do. He had no idea what she was doing, but he knew what was right. “And that is my responsibility, because I gave the order that put him in harm’s way. So...”
She folded her arms over her chest. Then she did something with her head that made it seem like she was taking in the whole of the diner with one glance.
“I thought all of this was a good thing. The diner. The halfway house of it all. But is it just...?” He didn’t like the look she aimed at him, then.
“Is it penance? Are you punishing yourself, Noah?”
And the worst part of her asking him that question was that he wasn’t alone in the diner. Tank was in the back, baking for the afternoon rush, something Noah was entirely too aware of when he heard something drop. And a very badly muffled bark of laughter.
He could feel his jaw clench.
“I hope you never know what it’s like to have to do the kind of penance you’re talking about,” Noah said, after a minute. “I really do.”
Raemy wasn’t smiling any longer. “I don’t believe in penance. Especially not for sins you haven’t committed. But you said you wanted to talk about William.”
He blinked at that. Then frowned. “I said I would talk about William.”
“Same difference,” she replied, because she was a maddening, impossible woman. “Great. Let’s have dinner.”
“Dinner.”
He saw that smile drag on one side of her mouth. “Yes. Dinner. It’s a meal that people like to eat at the end of a day. Maybe you haven’t heard of it.”
“Why do you want—” He shook his head. “I don’t—”
“Fantastic. It’s a date.” Then she laughed at him. “Don’t worry, I know where you live.”
And then she was back at the door and leaving the diner, like some kind of comet streaking across his sky, and what the hell had even happened?
He didn’t have time to dwell on that, however, because there was very pointed, very obnoxious, slow clapping coming from the kitchen.
From Tank and Crusoe. Even Jeremiah, who should have been concentrating on getting orders out.
And even, if he wasn’t mistaken, from his grandfather’s octogenarian buddies in the corner.
“Good to see you have that killer game going for you, buddy,” came Tank’s drawl. “Way to make that happen.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Noah replied, and that was the closest to cheerful he got all morning.
Then he cracked open his laptop, glared sightlessly at the emails in his always overfull inbox, and wondered how the hell he was going to survive the curse on his life that was Raemy Miller.