Chapter 10
“Good morning.”
Noah rose from behind his desk, the sunlight streaming through the windows, as Grace ventured cautiously into the study.
She’d left Jacob still asleep in his bed, and she had no idea what to expect from Noah after his episode last night.
After he’d released her arm and started to cry, she’d tried to comfort him, clumsily, patting his shoulder, but his sobs had stopped almost as soon as they’d started, and he’d lapsed once more into a restless sleep.
Grace had watched him uncertainly for a few moments before she’d crept back to bed, her mind full of questions before she’d eventually fallen asleep herself.
“You look a little more rested today,” Noah remarked as he strolled out from behind his desk.
He was freshly showered and shaven, his dark hair still damp, and brushed back from his chiseled face, so his eyes looked very blue.
He was dressed in another pair of faded jeans and sweater, this one a navy that matched his eyes.
“I checked on you a few times last night, and you seemed to be sleeping comfortably, I’m glad to say. ”
“I—I did?” Because he certainly hadn’t been.
“Well, I didn’t note any worsening symptoms,” Noah replied, smiling.
“Isaiah is making some breakfast,” he continued in the same easy tone.
“He does a pretty amazing ham and cheese omelet. Meanwhile, there’s coffee.
” He gestured to a tray with a silver carafe and a couple of cups on the table by the fireplace.
Grace eyed him uncertainly; she’d expected some reticence or reserve from him, to hide any understandable embarrassment from last night, but his deep blue eyes were clear and guileless as he headed over to the tray to pour them both cups, and he seemed surprisingly unfazed by everything.
Had he forgotten about the nightmare? Maybe he’d never remembered it in the first place.
Grace hadn’t been entirely sure he’d ever been truly awake, so she supposed that would make sense.
And yet… it felt strange and even wrong somehow to have witnessed it without his knowledge. Almost like she’d been spying, but of course she hadn’t.
“Isaiah takes good care of you,” she remarked, striving for some normality, as he poured out the coffee, and he let out a light laugh.
“He does, indeed. I’m very fortunate in that regard. Milk? Sugar?”
“Just milk, thank you.”
Noah handed her a cup, his fingers brushing hers in a way that was not unpleasant. As he moved, Grace caught the scent of his aftershave—something clean and woodsy, so different from Brad’s cloying cologne.
Then he frowned, cocking his head, his relaxed, affable expression like the mask Grace suspected it was. His brows snapped together and he suddenly looked angry. “What is it?” he asked abruptly.
“What?” Startled, she leaned back, only to have his frown deepen, his forehead knitted, as he stared at her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Noah demanded, his voice sharpening into something almost like accusation.
“Looking at you?” Grace blustered, taking a sip of coffee to hide her own alarm at how quickly their chitchat had escalated into something seemingly angry, her heart rate skittering in response to the sudden sea change of emotion. “I didn’t realize I was looking at you in any kind of way—”
“Like you feel sorry for me.” Noah’s mouth tightened. “Did you read something on the internet? Is that what it is?”
“The internet?” Grace couldn’t help but goggle at him, because that was unexpected.
“When would I have done that?” she asked as reasonably as she could.
“I think my phone is probably ruined from being in the water.” Something she didn’t really care about; no one had been in touch, and she didn’t need a phone here, anyway. There was hardly any signal.
“That’s true.” He was still frowning, his gaze assessing, his eyes narrowed, his body tense.
“I put it out to dry, but I haven’t checked whether it’s working yet.
” He shook his head slowly. “What, then? Because it’s something, I can tell.
You’re looking at me like—like you pity me.
” He spoke the word with something like loathing.
Grace opened her mouth to insist she didn’t know what he was talking about and then realized she didn’t want to lie.
She hadn’t been aware she was looking at him in that way, but she did know why it might seem as if she was.
“You had a… a nightmare last night,” she confessed quietly. “I was worried about you.”
Noah’s face paled and he flicked his gaze away from hers, his lips pursing. “Ah,” he said after a moment, and then took a sip of coffee. “Well, I was afraid that might happen.”
“I’m sorry,” Grace told him, although she wasn’t sure what exactly she was apologizing for. For seeing him in the throes of the nightmare? For him having it in the first place?
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” His lips twitched in something not quite a smile as he forced himself to meet her gaze, although she could tell it took some effort.
“Here I was, meant to be checking up on you, and you ended up having to check up on me.” He angled himself slightly away from her, and now Grace could feel his embarrassment as well as his deep sadness, and all of it made her ache.
“I understand about nightmares,” she said after a moment. “I have them, too.”
He turned slightly back to her, his gaze downcast, so his dark lashes fanned his pale cheeks. “My brother—died,” he said abruptly. “I dream about him sometimes.”
“I’m sorry.” Another apology, and yet she knew there was nothing else she could possibly say.
Noah glanced up at her, smiling faintly although the look in his eyes was bleak. “You seem to say that a lot.”
Grace gave a small, sad huff of acknowledgment. “For a long time, I felt like I had to,” she replied.
He inclined his head, and for a long moment they were both silent, absorbing each other’s revelations, the heavy pain of them.
“I want you to know,” Grace said suddenly, her voice hitching in her nervousness, “that I… I won’t look you up on the internet. I try to stay away from it as much as I can. And… I hope you won’t look me up, either.”
Noah regarded her quietly for several moments. “Are you famous?” he asked finally, his tone bland rather than curious.
“No, not at all,” she replied quickly, and then couldn’t help but wince.
Fame was a funny thing. “But… on the internet?” she confessed.
“Maybe, sort of.” Under her married name, which hopefully would make her harder to find, if he did decide to look.
She hoped he wouldn’t. “At least, I was, for about five minutes, but that was long enough.” She shook her head, not wanting to go into it, to have to relive it yet again, and Noah’s navy gaze swept slowly over her.
“Something went viral?” he guessed, and she shook her head.
“No, not really. Just… a kind of relentless… barrage.” A long, low sigh escaped her. She didn’t want to explain about Brad’s concerted attempt to completely discredit her online, on New York City gossip sites, social media, even a TikTok video… or how well it had seemed to work.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Noah stated definitively. “No internet, for either of us. Suits me just fine.”
“Suits me, too,” Grace agreed, and they smiled at each other, so it suddenly felt like they were conspirators.
So she knew about his nightmares. She’d seen him having one.
The thought made everything in Noah shrivel up in embarrassment and shame, but he was doing his best to ignore those feelings as well as move past them, at least while Grace was here.
Later he could return to full recluse mode, but he didn’t have that luxury now.
Still, he hated the thought that she’d seen him like that.
Had he been writhing? Shouting? God help him, had he cried?
Judging by the soft, sad way she’d looked at him, maybe all three.
It was a good thing, a very good thing, that she’d be heading back to the lodge this morning, and then Isaiah could take over checking up on her, which was just as well considering he obviously hadn’t done a good job of it last night.
Why, Noah wondered in irritation, did the thought of not seeing her again make him feel a little disappointed, even sad?
How stupid.
“I… I should probably check on Jacob,” Grace said uncertainly, and he gave a terse nod.
“Good idea.” As much as he wanted to be normal about things, it was hard after what she’d confessed. Again, Noah wondered how bad he’d been. Had he spoken out loud? Had he said something incriminating or embarrassing or just weird?
He’d woken himself up sometimes, still in the painful grip of a nightmare, the sight of Jem’s lifeless body imprinted on his mind’s eye, as well as the note he’d left, with its five damning words Noah knew he would never, ever forget.
As Grace slipped silently out of the room, Noah exhaled a sigh of relief. The sooner she left, the better. No matter how stupidly disappointed that thought might make him feel.
He was still staring out the window at the sight of sky and sea, willing his mind to empty out of the imaginings of what Grace might have seen, when he heard the door open. “Is Jacob awake?” he asked, turning around, only to see Isaiah come in with a breakfast tray.
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Isaiah replied as he set the tray down. His faded blue eyes were twinkling and Noah thought he looked far too pleased with himself.
“If I didn’t know you better,” he remarked, taking a sip of his coffee, “I would have suspected you of arranging that whole rescue yourself.”
“I would never willingly put anyone in danger,” Isaiah replied, and now he sounded almost prim. “But I’m glad it happened, because I don’t think you would have met otherwise.”
“Don’t matchmake,” Noah warned him. Grace might be just about the loveliest woman he’d ever seen, but he was pretty sure they were both too damaged to think about even the mildest flirtation, never mind something more.
He doubted it was even on her radar, even if it was irritatingly hovering on his.
“Matchmake!” Isaiah repeated on a huff. “Noah, I just want you to have a friend.”
“I don’t need a friend,” Noah informed him shortly. He didn’t deserve one. “I’m not in kindergarten, Isaiah.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “Look, I know you mean well, but it really is better if you just leave it alone.”
Isaiah looked like he wanted to argue, but then the door opened again, and Grace stood there, holding Jacob’s hand. Their conversation would have to keep, but Noah really hoped that the caretaker didn’t have any other nefarious plans up his sleeve to throw him and Grace together.
He didn’t need a flirtation or a friend. He was fine on his own. He had to be, Noah acknowledged grimly, because heaven knew he didn’t trust himself with anyone, and he wouldn’t ever again. Not after Jem.
He’d as good as killed his brother—willfully, selfishly, thoughtlessly. He had no intention of risking hurting someone else, ever again, and certainly not a woman as beautiful and broken as Grace Wyatt.