26. Noah
Chapter twenty-six
Noah
“ L iam,” I bark, my voice sharp enough to make Ezra and Liam glance up from the engine. “What the hell is this?”
He straightens up slowly, squinting like he can’t follow my train of thought. “What’s what?”
I jab a gloved hand toward the hose, coiled like shit and tangled near the back wheel. “You gonna trip over your own mess or wait till someone else does?”
“It’s a hose, Noah. I’ll fix it in a second,” Liam says.
Well, a hose shouldn’t count as a screw up, but everything pisses me off. In addition to the fact that all I can remember when I look at Liam is the way he danced with Kate at the last fundraiser.
“No. You’ll fix it now.” The words come out dry and biting.
Liam’s jaw tenses. “Jeez. Did I piss on your coffee or something?”
“Say that again,” I snap, stepping in close. The heat on my neck spikes hands flexing at my sides.
“You want to run your mouth, do it to someone who gives a damn.”
“Alright, alright, back the hell off.” Maggie’s voice cuts in, low and even, stepping between us before it gets worse.
My fists clench, pulse hammering in my ears. I stare at Liam like it’ll force down this heat crawling up my neck.
I shove past them both and storm back inside the station, hearing Maggie mutter behind me, “He’s losing it.”
I am losing it.
I stomp down past the break room, shoulder open the bathroom door, and slam it behind me. The echo of the door against the frame is too loud in the silence. I brace my hands on the sink and force myself to look up.
Fuck .
The man staring back is unrecognizable. My beard is overgrown, my eyes sunken and red-rimmed like I haven’t slept in days, which I haven’t. My T-shirt’s wrinkled under my turnout coat, collar crooked, face drawn tight.
I look like someone who’s been hit by a truck and is still bleeding on the side of the road. And the worst part? I don't even care.
The door creaks open behind me, and I can barely hold back from snapping at whoever it is.
“You gonna punch a mirror next?” Maggie’s voice floats in, casual but lined with steel.
I don’t move, nor do I turn to face her.
“You want the truth?” she asks, stepping in behind me. “You look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks,” I mutter and turn on the faucet with a jerky movement.
“You’ve been walking around here like a wounded animal, biting anyone who gets too close. Ezra says you didn’t show up for post-call beers. Liam says you’re acting like he burned your house down.”
I snort, but there’s no humor in it. “Maybe he did.”
“Noah.” Her voice softens, but only slightly. “You’re not mad at Liam. Or Ezra. Or the crew.”
I say nothing as I stare at the running water.
“You’re mad at yourself. And her.”
My shoulders go stiff.
“For what, though?” she asks, stepping closer, arms crossed. “For not telling you who she is? Or because you’re scared of what it means?”
I clench my jaw. I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to admit she’s right.
She lets out a breath, almost a laugh. “Everyone knows, and you would know that if you haven’t been hiding away all these weeks.”
She eyes me, “You think we missed the way Sinclair rolled into town? Or how he stormed through town looking for his daughter and trying to pay everyone? The fact that Kate has been hiding away wasn’t missed either. Small towns talk.”
“Then why….”
“Why didn’t anyone say anything?” she finishes for me. “Because it didn’t matter.”
Her eyes find mine, sharp with certainty. “I know Kate probably thinks everyone is mad at her or something, but most of us don’t think it’s a big deal.
Except for me, of course . A small voice mocks in my head.
“She’s still the same woman who helped out with the fundraiser. The one who brings snacks to every practice. The one who looks at you like you’re more than the man who’s been grieving for 20 years.”
My throat tightens, and I look away.
She reaches for my hand, gripping it like a lifeline. “So, I’m asking you, what’s this really about?”
I don’t answer, but I allow her to hold my hand.
She leans in, voice gentle now. “You’re not scared she lied, Noah.
You’re still scared to start over and admit you’re really doing this.
You’re scared to let go of your pain because you don’t know who you are without it.
And you’re using this whole thing as an excuse to push her away before she can walk. ”
A muscle ticks in my jaw at how close to the mark she is.
Her thumb brushes over my knuckles like a mother calming a restless child. “Why are you punishing yourself and the woman you love over something that doesn’t even hold weight anymore?”
The lump in my throat seems to grow bigger. “You’re suffering, Noah. So is she. So what the hell are you doing? I think it’s time to get out of your own damn head and do what you actually want.”
She allows the words to hang there without adding anything.
I look at myself in the mirror again, the red eyes, the overgrown beard, the barely concealed pain, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself really feel what’s underneath all of it.
Not betrayal.
Just fear.
What I want? I want Kate.
I want her more than anything else.
I want her in my life, not as a complication, not as a question mark, but as my future.
And if that’s going to happen... I have to let go of the past first.
I finally turn to face Maggie, “I won’t be back for the rest of the day.”
She looks proud and satisfied with my words, and claps me on the back as I head out of the bathroom. The only stop is at the office, where I grab my jacket from the hook by the door.
I ignore the way Liam watches me like he half expects I’ll snap again, and walk straight out. I owe everyone an apology, but that can wait.
The sun stabs at my eyes when I step outside. Late afternoon, gold light spilling over the bay, long shadows stretching across the parking lot. I don’t realize I’m clenching my fists until I get to the truck and have to shake out my hands to fish out the keys.
I climb in, slam the door harder than I need to, and sit there.
The cab is quiet. No radio. Just the low hum of the engine after I start it and the faint hiss of the vents pushing out lukewarm air. I grip the steering wheel tight. My knuckles pale.
Why did it take two weeks before I can come to the realization of what Maggie just said?
Those words are still ringing in my head.
Why are you punishing yourself and the woman you love over something that doesn’t even hold weight anymore? You’re suffering, Noah. So is she. So, what the hell are you doing?
I scrub a hand over my face, through the overgrown mess of my beard, and lean back in the seat. My chest feels too tight for my ribs, and it’s like I’ve been holding my breath for two weeks, and I’m not even sure how to let it go anymore.
Then I hear her voice. Kate’s. Not really, but the memory of it, quiet and brave, the day she told me the truth.
"I didn’t lie to hurt you. I just wanted someone to see me as me first."
God .
I close my eyes, gripping the wheel harder. Because the sick truth is, she’s right. She’s always been right. I used her last name as an excuse, a reason to run when the truth was too fucking real. But it never really mattered, did it?
Kate Sinclair. Kate Montgomery. It doesn’t matter, and looking back now, she made sure I saw her, really saw her, long before I knew any of it.
The turn signal ticks softly as I pull out of the lot.
I don’t even think as I drive. My hands know where to go. It’s as if they’ve been waiting for this moment, and my gut knew all along that the only way to move forward… was to stop running.
I take the road south down the island. Past the old cannery and the fields that stay green too long into fall. The cemetery’s up ahead, tucked behind a low stone wall and a line of pines that sway in the wind.
And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, I feel something close to clarity settle behind my ribs.
It doesn’t feel good. But it feels honest .
I pull in slowly, gravel crunching beneath the tires, and park under the shadow of the trees. The sun is starting to dip now, and the light is softer.
I sit there a moment, staring out the windshield, my hands still wrapped around the wheel like I need something to hold on to.
And then, I get out.
I walk the same path I’ve walked a hundred times. Past the oak tree that always turns red first. Past the marble angel with the chipped wing. And then, there she is.
Josie.
Her stone is simple. Quiet. Just like she was.
Josie Lynn Harper. Beloved. Brave. Loved.
I kneel slowly, palms pressing against my thighs, and let the silence settle. I don’t speak at first. I never really do. But the words are there anyway, forming silently in my head.
“Hey,” I whisper finally.
“If you were here, you’d hate how I’ve been lately. Angry. Distant. Acting like the whole damn world’s against me.” I huff a breath and lean forward, forearms on my thighs.
It feels like she’s still listening, and she’s just waiting for me to sit down and shut up long enough to hear her.
“You’d tell me I’m being an idiot, I think. You always did cut through my bullshit fast.”
I smile a little, just at the corner of my mouth. The breeze picks up, rustling the grass around her grave.
“It’s been years. And sometimes, I still wake up expecting your hand on my shoulder, telling me to get up before I’m late for my shift.”
I glance down, chewing the inside of my cheek.
“I thought… if I held onto the guilt tight enough, it would keep me connected to you. Like if I stayed broken, you wouldn’t feel so far away.”
My throat burns.
“But I met someone. And I think…” I blink, swallowing hard. “I think you’d like her.”
A long breath slips from my lungs. The first one that doesn’t feel like it catches on something sharp.
My voice comes out almost too quiet. “She’s light. And heart. She’s stubborn as hell, but she makes me want to… live again. Not just survive. Not just get through the day.”
The leaves whisper above me, and for a moment I imagine her there, arms crossed, head tilted, that patient look she used to get when I couldn’t find the words.
I run a hand down my face, press my thumb against the tight spot between my brows. “But I’ve been scared. That if I let her in, I’m forgetting you. That maybe I’m failing again. At protecting what matters. At being enough.”
I look up at the sky, that late evening gold seeping through the branches above.
“But I don’t want to lose her. And the truth is, I never did. I just tried to convince myself I could.”
The wind shifts. And for a second, the world goes still. It really feels like Josie is listening, and she’s giving the go-ahead.
I rest my hand on the stone. “I really want to try without holding back now. Because living in the past, it’s… It’s just another way of dying, isn’t it?”
“I’m not replacing you. I never could. But I need to stop hiding behind your memory like it’s a shield. Because you’d hate that. You always wanted me to be happy, even when I didn’t think I deserved it.”
A breeze cuts through the cemetery again, sudden and cold. But somehow, I feel warm.
“I love her, Josie,” I whisper. “I really do.”
I push up to stand, brush off my hands, and glance down at the stone.
“I miss you. I’ll always miss you. But I think I’m ready now. I think it’s time.”
I close my eyes.
It’s the truth, and it softens everything inside me, like a thaw after a long winter.
I press my fingers against the stone once more, then rise.
And as I turn back toward the truck, I know exactly where I’m going next.
The ride to Elaine’s house is quiet. I roll the windows down. The smell of pine and salt air fills the cab, and something unspools inside me. I don’t know what it is. Maybe relief. Maybe hope. Maybe both.
By the time I pull into her driveway, dusk is curling at the edges of the sky, the porch light flickering on like it was waiting for me.
Elaine opens the door before I even knock.
She takes a single look at me, just one, and pulls me into a hug that damn near undoes me.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs against my shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you to make this visit. I know the reason you’re here. Josie would’ve wanted this for you. She would’ve wanted you happy .”
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat too thick to speak. I’m so grateful that I don’t need to search for the words.
“You’re allowed to love again, Noah,” she says gently, cupping my cheek as she pulls back to look at me. “It doesn’t erase what you had. It just means your heart’s still working. Still open. That’s not a betrayal. That’s a gift.”
I nod, jaw tight, barely holding it together. “Thank you.”
“Is Tara around?” I ask after a beat, already bracing myself.
Elaine winces. “She’s in the kitchen.”
I barely get the door open before I hear Tara’s voice.
“Guess I was right, she was hiding something,” she mutters, arms crossed, eyes downcast.
"Tara," I start, but she doesn't let me finish.
“I guess I thought maybe I still mattered to you. That what we shared through Josie meant something.”
But she doesn’t wait for a response. Just disappears into the hallway with a sigh.
I stand there in the silence that follows, heat rising behind my ribs.
Elaine steps up beside me, resting a hand lightly on my arm. “I’m sorry. She’s...”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m not here for her, just wanted to let her know Josie will forever have a place in my heart.”
She smiles softly. “Then go get your girl.”
I don’t waste another second.
By the time I’m driving back down the main road, my windows are down again. The air is cool, and I’m humming without meaning to. A low, tuneless thing that feels like breathing for the first time in days. It’s Kate’s song.
My knuckles go bone-white on the wheel, heart hammering like it's trying to break free. The world outside blurs, streaks of dying light, skeletal trees whipping past, and shadows swallowing the road whole.
Elaine’s voice still hums in my skull softly, “You’re allowed to love again, Noah.”
I never thought I needed permission, but having it makes my heart ache for waiting so long. The thought of Kate, of seeing her, touching her, breathing her in, drives me forward.
The curve to the cottage comes into view.
That’s when I see it.
There’s a thick and ravenous smoke billowing from the cottage like a black tide surging into the sky, as if the earth itself is choking.
My stomach plummets, and the truck swerves as I floor the gas. The tires screech and the engine howls as I barrel down the lane, too fast, too reckless, my heart slamming against my ribs like a fist.
Not her. Not now. Not when I just….
I pull in front of the cottage and it’s drowning in smoke, devouring the roofline, rising from the back of the house in great, gulping waves.
My heart seizes. My lungs forget how to work. I slam the breaks and leap out before the truck stops.
“KATE!”