Chapter 17
RUE
I stare at the full bowl of stew sitting in front of me, untouched. I can’t bring myself to even imagine an appetite. Reality, as it turns out, is very much the way my brain has been seeing it.
“You walked in that door earlier, looking like you’d seen a ghost,” Mom says, shifting her wheelchair to look at me. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I snap. “Maybe it’s because I just found out after all these years someone who actually fucking mattered to me took the fall for something I did. I’d say that’s pretty fucking mind blowing, given I hadn’t seen him in years.”
“You didn’t know him anymore. He was in a stupid biker club.”
“So was Matthew,” I set my spoon down with a clatter. “And I cared a lot about Noah, even if I’ve intentionally tried to forget everything about this fucking place.”
Mom cocks a brow, totally unmoved and mocking. “So, it only matters who paid the price now because you knew him? That suddenly makes it more traumatic for you?”
Shame spins in my chest, but I shake it off. “I hope they don’t find him.”
Mom laughs dryly. “I bet they do.”
I shove my chair back from the table, the jarring movement causing stew to spill over the edge of my bowl.
I let out a frustrated sigh, and then pick it up from the table, pausing to peer out into the night.
The porch light flickers in the wind, casting strange dark figures across the yard, looking as though they’re dancing.
“I think I’ll put myself to bed tonight,” Mom clips, suddenly able to use both arms to roll her wheelchair back. “You clearly need some time.”
Obviously.
I go silent, listening to the wind and the squeal of my mother’s wheelchair as she rolls down the hallway. I set the bowl of stew down on the counter, grab a paper towel, and wipe up the mess I made. As I toss it into the trash, Bullet lets out a single bark at the back window.
My eyes drift to the same place in the yard with the dancing shadows, but my breath catches in my throat. In the middle of the yard, a figure stands, unmoving.
‘If you see anything, you call us,’ the Marshal’s voice echoes in my head.
I reach into the front pocket of my jeans, fingering the edge of the business card, as the words keep playing.
‘We plan to do an in-depth countywide search if we get any more tips.’
I suck in a breath through my nose, pick up the bowl of stew, and head for the back door. My heart pounds against the confines of my ribcage, and it’s all I can hear as I swing the door open a fraction, the wind howling around the house.
The figure shifts, now angling toward where I stand. However, I can’t really see him clearly, the light of the porch blinding.
So, I slide my hand along the inside wall and turn it off.
My eyes take a moment to adjust, and the crunch of footsteps coming closer causes my body to stiffen with fear.
But then the moon illuminates what the porch light could never.
I’m met with those same translucent eyes, practically sparkling beneath the white glow of the night sky.
“Noah,” I whisper.
He stares at me, the stubble lightly lining his razor-sharp jaw. His expression is almost impossible to read, and my gut screams at me to slam the door shut—that he might very well be here to exact some sort of revenge.
But he doesn’t know I did it? Does he?
I take a full step out of the house and let the door close behind me, pushing the thoughts away. “Are you hungry?” My words waver, and my hands tremble as I hold it out to him.
He eyes me, inches closer, and then takes it from my hands, not giving me anything other than his penetrating stare.
“There’s… Um… There’s…” My voice breaks before I can say anything more. My knees grow weak, and I struggle to remain upright. “Noah, I had no idea,” I blurt out. “I didn’t know it was you. I never knew it was you they locked up.” Tears stream down my face.
He sets the empty bowl on the railing of the back porch, and then lets out a sigh. “I wish I could actually believe you, Rue.” His eyes flick to mine, his irises riddled with what I think is pure fucking hate.
And it only makes me desperate to console him further.
“Please,” I take a step down, the cold biting through my coat. “Noah.” I stumble toward him, and at first, he retreats, like if I touch him, it might fucking kill him.
“I took the fall for something I didn’t do,” he grits out. “And you know that, Rue? Don’t you?”
Guilt crushes my chest, my mouth struggling to move. “You could never…”
He glares at me, the intensity sending a wave of ice through my body. “Oh, I could, Rue. I have. But,” he’s suddenly close to me, his fist wrapped up in my coat, and holding me to him, his nose brushing mine. “But I didn’t stab Matthew to death. I didn’t push him into the lake.”
“I know.” I whisper, adrenaline and something else pumping through my body in response to his woodsy scent.
He tilts his head, his lips inches from mine. “And why is that? Hmm?”
Tears build and then slip down my cheeks, my lip trembling. “Because I did it.”
His eyes flash with something dark and unsettling. “I saw you do it that night, Rue. I saw the whole fucking thing. I saw you stab him. I saw you push him in the goddamn lake. And I had to pay the price for it, because your daddy knew exactly where to point the finger.”
I swallow hard, my body trembling against him. “I didn’t know it was you.”
“Oh, and that makes it better?” he scoffs. “I was nothing to you.” He releases me then, and I stumble backward, falling on my ass. “All the letters, all the calls, and nothing. I got nothing from you.”
“What?” I have no idea what the hell he’s saying, but maybe it’s just the way my head is spinning as he looms over me. I realize he might actually fucking kill me for what I did to him.
“Life without parole,” he bends down, tipping my chin upward, his touch burning my skin. “I got life without parole for you, and you couldn’t even say ‘thank you.’”
Without thinking, I brush my fingers over his hand, feeling the callouses there. “I can’t fix what happened now, but I’m so sorry.”
His expression breaks for a split second, the anger dissipating. “Don’t fucking play with me.”
“I’m not,” I squeeze his hand, hating the way it feels so familiar in a way that I don’t understand. “I didn’t know what happened to you. I didn’t know. I loved you, Noah.” The words come out without me even realizing it, and Noah freezes.
“You didn’t. We were just kids.”
“And that’s how I know I did,” I argue, squeezing my eyes shut, as he drags me to my feet. I have no fucking idea what he’s going to do, but at this point, he can have it all.
I surrender. I’m so tired of running.
“All the fucked up stuff that happened,” my mouth keeps moving, as he grips my arm and tugs me toward the woods. “I didn’t forget you, Noah. I just didn’t know you anymore. You were—”
He shoves me back against the tree, the collision knocking the breath out of me. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now.” His voice has an edge now. “Fuck with my head? Try to make it out like you still care?”
I shake my head and look away. “I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”
“Then show me.”
I whip my eyes back to his. “I’ll turn myself in.”
He chuckles sardonically. “They’ll still throw me in prison for escaping, and let’s be honest, a confession won’t mean shit for me. They’ll never believe me.” He runs his thumb along my jaw, setting it on fire and sending a shiver down my spine.
“Then what do you want me to do?” I choke out, our bodies pressed together.
His lips brush across my cheek to my ear. “Give me what I really want.” He pauses. “You.”
I suck in a sharp breath and slip my hand between us, running down his hard abdomen and feeling him shiver in response. I drop lower, until my hand brushes over the top of his jeans, his cock rigid against me. His breath catches as I squeeze.
Oh fuck.
The younger Rue never knew this is what she wanted from Noah Anders. But the adult Rue… Yeah, I know this is what I always imagined would’ve happened had he stayed in Moccasin Cove.
And there would’ve been no Matthew.
I close the distance then, my mouth colliding with his, as I let the fantasy take over—that Noah wants me because he loves me still, not because it’s a part of some sick revenge plot.
His hands move frantically over my body, running the curve of my hips, as his mouth pulls from mine, trailing along my jaw. My chest heaves as his fingers unsnap the button on my jeans, and I squeeze his dick again.
“Rue,” he murmurs, his hand lingering against my skin. I expect him to slip beneath the fabric, but instead, he violently shoves it all down.
I gasp, the cold assaulting the warm, wet place. “Fuck,” I shiver.
But Noah doesn’t stop. His hands move quickly, shoving my sweater up and revealing my breasts. My nipples ache against the cold, and I struggle to get control of my violent shudders.
But then his mouth over my nipple, sucking and pulling me into his mouth, and his hand glides between my legs. He groans as he coats his fingers in my wetness.
I do want you, Noah.
And maybe that realization is why his touches, while desperate, suddenly grow gentler. He strokes my clit, and arousal I haven’t felt in so long, pours through my body. I arch back against the tree, rocking my hips against his touch.
“Noah,” I pant, as my fingers curl through the softness of his hair. I close my eyes, still letting myself pretend like this isn’t just revenge for him.
And I give way to every fiber of me that was holding back.
“There it is,” he groans into my chest. “Come for me, Rue.”
I let out a cry, piercing the night, and do exactly as he commands.
I come for him.