12. Zoey #2
Hours later and laden with shopping bags, we practically skipped into the small café, where the comforting smell of freshly baked bread greeted us. Taking our seats, we placed our order, eager to satisfy our growling stomachs.
I pushed the last of my omelet around the plate, barely listening as Heather prattled on about the latest gossip from the hospital. But then she shifted gears, her gaze sharpening like she could see right through me.
“Spill it, Zoey,” she said. “How was dinner with Noah?”
“Fine,” I said curtly, avoiding her piercing stare. “Just fine.”
“Uh-huh,” she hummed. “And do you like him?”
“Heather, no. I mean, he’s nice, but...” I trailed off as I fumbled with a napkin, tearing it to shreds.
“Zoey.” Heather’s sigh was loaded with frustration. “It’s okay to be attracted to Noah. You know that, right? It’s okay to move on.”
“Heather, I’m not… what I mean is, He’s a nice guy, and he’s looking out for Roland,” I protested feebly, but she threw me that look, the same one our mom used. The one that said she didn’t buy a word I was saying.
I sighed. “Besides, I don’t think he’s interested in me in that way, Heather. I’m broken.”
“Cut the bullshit, Zoey. You’re amazing. Broken pieces and all. Maybe it’s time you start finding yourself again. See what everyone else sees.”
Before I could formulate a response, my breath stuttered at the sight coming our way. Noah walked toward us, a beautiful older woman on his arm. His mother, undoubtedly—they shared the same sandy blond hair, the same generous mouth.
“Zoey?” Heather nudged me, but I was lost in Noah’s smile when he saw us.
“Hey,” he rumbled in his familiar and comforting way.
“Hi,” I stammered, my heart fluttering against my ribs.
“Zoey, this is my mother, Angela Alexander.”
“Hello, Zoey. I’ve heard so much about you,” Angela said warmly, her greeting as soft and comforting as a well-worn quilt. Her smile—Noah’s smile—was genuine, and my surprise at being a topic of conversation between the two must have shown on my face.
“Mom,” Noah groaned lightly, scowling playfully. “Don’t embarrass me.”
“Embarrass you?” She chuckled, shaking her head at him. “Go, sit down. Heather and I will be right back.” She tugged at Heather’s sleeve, guiding her towards the pastry counter. “I’ll make sure to get something decadent,” Angela called after us, her laughter trailing in the air.
That left me alone with Noah. I wiped my clammy palms on my dress, a pointless gesture since it only drew his attention.
“You look nice,” he said, his gaze appreciative but not intrusive.
“Thanks,” I muttered, heat climbing up my neck until my cheeks burned. I busied myself with rearranging the cutlery on my empty plate, avoiding his gaze. I hated that his compliment left me feeling like a smitten teenager.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt your brunch,” he continued, watching me closely.
“Heather and I were just talking,” I said, sounding steadier than I felt. I couldn’t exactly tell him we’d been discussing him, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “About... life. Plans.”
“Plans?”
I hesitated, self-doubt whispering in my ear. But Noah waited, patient and seemingly interested. “Before George,” I said, the name tasting bitter, “I got a degree in computer programming.”
“Really?” His eyebrows arched in surprise.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling a small surge of pride. “Been a while since I coded anything, though. I was thinking about maybe taking some refresher courses.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“Do you really think so?” I met his gaze, expecting derision. To my relief, I saw genuine interest there.
“Absolutely. Dip your toe back in the pool.”
We talked more about the idea, about where I could start, then the conversation moved to childhood memories. The afternoon sun filtered through the bakery windows, casting a warm glow on the table where Noah and I sat. I hadn’t felt so comfortable in a while.
“Tell me another one,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Okay, but you asked for it.” My words tumbled out as I recounted a story of my and Heather’s childhood escapades.
He burst out laughing, and for a moment, I saw myself the way he did: vibrant, fearless, unbroken.
“You were quite the handful, weren’t you?” he remarked.
“Guilty as charged. But life wasn’t all pranks and laughter. Sam never had it easy with me,” I said, tracing the rim of my coffee cup as memories swirled like the steam rising from the dark liquid. “I guess you could say I was always on the defense, wary because of... well, my father.”
Noah nodded, his blue eyes reflecting a sea of understanding. “You were protecting yourself. It’s natural.”
“Maybe too natural,” I said, a rueful smile flickering across my face. “I tested Sam every chance I got. Like this one time...” I hesitated, unsure if I should share the memory.
He leaned back in his chair with an expectant grin. “Go on.”
“Okay, so Sam had this prized pen, a fancy, expensive one a client gave him. He was so proud of it, bragging about it to anyone who’d listen.” I shook my head, almost bursting into laughter at the thought. “One day, I decided to switch it out with a cheap replica.”
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say Sam didn’t appreciate the prank as much as I did. He was furious when the ink exploded all over his hands during a meeting.”
Noach chuckled. “Exploding ink?”
“Yep. His face matched the ink by the end of it.” Warmth bloomed inside me as I watched him.
“And then what?”
“Something shifted. He could’ve scolded me—punished me, even—but he didn’t. He just asked why I did it.”
“Did you tell him?”
“I said it was a joke, but he saw right through me. That’s when I realized he wasn’t like my father. He cared. Not about the pen or his image, but about me.”
Noah’s laughter had faded, replaced by a look of admiration. “Sounds like Sam knew exactly how to handle you.”
“More than I ever gave him credit for,” I said, my heart lighter as I shared pieces of my past with Noah.
The softness in his eyes seemed to reach into the very depths of my heart. “Thank you for sharing those stories. I hope I get to see more of that side of you. The playful, the bold... the real Zoey.”
His large, warm hand enveloped mine. I didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back. I felt every line on his palm press against my skin, grounding yet electrifying.
“You’ve lost a lot, Zoey,” Noah said. “I can see that. And I hope, with time, you’ll find those parts of yourself again. I hope you know you don’t have to do it alone.” He stroked my hand lightly with his thumb.
My heartbeat quickened, fluttering like a caged bird inside my chest. Noah made that low, rumbling sound again.
It was a soothing contrast to George’s growls, which had always been edged with anger.
Noah’s rumble felt protective, a subtle reminder of the strength he carried, but without the threat.
It didn’t scare me. In fact, it made my stomach flutter.
“Thank you,” I said. My heart continued its rapid dance, but now it wasn’t just from nerves. It was something else. Something new.
Noah cleared his throat, a sound that seemed to resonate with his unspoken thoughts. His fingers brushed against mine in a lingering touch, as if he were imprinting the moment into memory.
“Well, given that it doesn’t take an afternoon to pick out something decadent , I think my mother and Heather might have ditched us,” he said.
“I should probably take you home. I wonder if they didn’t have their own agenda today.
” A corner of his mouth lifted in amusement.
“What were the odds that you’d be here right as my mom developed a sudden craving for pastries? ”
I chuckled, even as I felt my cheeks warm. “Oh, Heather is one sneaky bitch,” I said under my breath. “Funnily enough, though, Heather had a sudden urge for the ‘best omelet in town’ and demanded we come here.”
Laughing, Noah stood and extended his hand to help me out of my chair. “Come on,” he said, still chuckling as we walked toward the exit. “Let’s get you home.”
As we stepped outside, the setting sun cast a golden glow around him, turning his sandy hair into a halo of light. He guided me to his truck. With a grace that belied his size, Noah opened the passenger door for me.
“Watch your step,” he cautioned as I climbed in, the warmth of his hand on my back a steadying presence.
“Thanks,” I said, settling into the seat as he closed the door with a soft thud. The interior of the truck smelled faintly of leather and pine. The comforting scent made me feel safe and cocooned from the world outside.
Once Noah started the engine, I glanced over at him, taking in the scar on his brow. It didn’t detract from his boyish good looks and the way his jaw tensed ever so slightly when he concentrated.
His shirt hugged his body, emphasizing his physique, revealing the definition of his muscles as they flexed and strained beneath the fabric.
Beneath Noah’s casual demeanor lurked a blend of explosive power and enduring stamina.
It was easy to imagine him in the ring, fierce and unyielding, yet here he was, showing me a kindness I hadn’t known I needed.
After a few minutes with nothing but the hum of the engine breaking the silence, I stole a glance at Noah. His grip on the steering wheel was firm, knuckles just a touch whiter than usual.
“Everything okay?” I ventured.
“Of course.” But his voice held a strange edge, and his jaw was set hard. I frowned, but before I could press further, we turned onto my street.
As we pulled up to Heather’s place, I caught sight of Heather peeking through the curtains. She ducked away quickly, but not before I shook my head with a smirk. Always watching.
“Thanks for the lift,” I said as the truck came to a stop.
“Anytime,” Noah said. He turned off the engine, plunging the cab into silence. Then, after a moment that felt too long and too short all at once, he spoke again. “Would you... would you let me take you out again?”
The question caught me off-guard. My thoughts flickered to Heather’s words, her knowing smile. If she believed in Noah, maybe I could, too. “I’d like that,” I said.
“Great. I’ll call you later this week.” He already had my number; there was no need for pretense.
“Okay.” As I reached for the door handle, Noah stopped me.
“Wait, let me walk you to the door.” He jumped out of the truck, circled around the hood, and opened my door.
The thud of the truck door closing behind us seemed to echo in the quiet street. Noah moved ahead, his tall frame casting a shadow that stretched toward the porch. I followed, hyperaware of his presence beside me.
“Watch your step here,” he said, touching the small of my back as we navigated the uneven garden path. His tall frame towered over me, but I wasn’t intimidated. Instead, it felt like I was enveloped by an invisible shield.
As we reached the top step, a rogue strand of hair danced across my forehead.
Before I could swipe it away, Noah tucked it behind my ear.
The touch sent a jolt through me. My breath hitched.
Warmth pooled in places that left me flustered, and my mind raced down paths lined with yearning and what-ifs.
His gaze locked with mine, the blue of his eyes darker in the early evening light. “I’ll talk to you soon.” His voice was rough, like he’d been holding it too tightly.
“Okay,” was all I managed.
Turning, I fumbled with the key at the door, my hands shaking. Inside, I leaned back against the closed door, my heart pounding a staccato rhythm.
Heather stepped into the hallway, a smug expression on her face. “I told you so,” she said, her words laced with triumph and affection.
I let out a breathless, giddy laugh. “Yeah, you did.”