Don't Let Go(41)

“Shit, Jules,” he said under his breath, so softly it was nearly inaudible.
One of his hands went to my face as if on autopilot, and I shut my eyes tight as the warmth of his hand against my cheek and hair nearly broke me. I could smell him, feel him, and I didn’t dare open my eyes to look at him. He’d see it.
“Noah, don’t,” I whispered through broken breaths. I reached up to pull his hand away, but then the other side of my head was cradled as well, and all my strength melted away. My grip on his hand stayed where it was, and I could feel the slight tremble. Or was that me?
I didn’t open my eyes until I felt his thumbs move across my cheeks, wiping away tears, and it hit me in the chest like a wrecking ball. He looked like someone had beaten the crap out of him from the inside. His eyelids were heavy, like a man who hadn’t slept in days. The turmoil radiating off of him was palpable.
That, plus the feel of his hands in my hair, the closeness of his body, so close I could feel him breathe, it was almost too much. His eyes went to my mouth, and for a second it was like ropes were pulling us together. I could nearly taste him.
“What did he do?” Noah asked finally, halting the forward motion, his voice hoarse and strained.
I shook my head as much as I could inside his hold. I wasn’t going to pit him against his father, and I didn’t want another fight. “It’s my battle with him,” I said. “It has been for years. He just—” I stopped to pull it together as the burn jabbed at me again. “Crossed the line today.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be.”
Everything in me wanted to wind my arms around him and pull him the rest of the way in, to feel his lips come down on mine, but I shoved that thought away. That was from a lifetime ago. The old us. Before a baby and parents and an ocean and two decades separated all that we were. I grasped his hands instead to pull away gently and backed up a half step, still holding on.
“We can’t help who our parents are,” I said.
A look that felt like an eternity passed between us, full of so many things I couldn’t read and yet couldn’t look away from. Then he slowly pulled his hands from mine, running them over his face and up through his hair as he walked around the tiny break room.
The moment was broken, but something had shifted. The walls that weren’t really walls but more of a respectful barrier had gone wiggly. From last night’s moment on the back patio to just seconds earlier, the push-pull thing between us had taken on a life of its own.
My feet had taken root in the cheap carpet when he touched me, but I refused to stand there like a stunned statue. I refused to let Noah see what he could still do to me. Forcing myself into motion, I made it to the fridge, swiping the tears from my too-warm face on the way. With shaking hands I grabbed two waters and held one out to him, thinking he might need the cold as much as I did.
He stopped by the sink and took it from me, leaning back against the counter and draining half of it in two swallows. He took a deep breath and crossed his arms, letting his gaze fall on me again like there were a thousand questions to ask. There weren’t. He looked like he felt safer over there, but the room wasn’t big enough for me to share that opinion. The mere six feet separating us seemed like two, and it was as if all the air had been sucked from the room.
“Why are you still here, in this store?” he asked finally, holding up his hands quickly. “And don’t take that wrong or get mad at me. It’s just a question.”
Just a question. I was learning that nothing was that simple with him now. I wanted to ask him why he was still here in this store. Like, instead of next door with his woman.
“Why did you come back to Copper Falls?” I asked.
He narrowed his eyes and paused for a second. “Family.”
“Ditto,” I said, tilting my head like Ruthie would. Like she would likely come in and do any minute after watching Noah follow me back there. “I’m here because my mother wanted me to take this on.”
He shook his head. “It’s different.”
“How?” I said, laughing. “Because it’s me and not you?”
“No, because I came back on my own,” he said quietly. “No one wrote up a map and a guidebook and demanded I follow it.”
I felt my jaw muscles tighten, my shoulders following close behind. That was good. Angry and closed off was better than emotional and wanting to dive under his clothes.
“Once upon a time, you were my best friend, Noah,” I said, keeping my voice low and nearly quiver-free. He blinked and pulled in a long breath, telling me I’d hit a nerve. “But you’ve been gone a long time. I don’t pretend to still know you like I used to. So don’t judge my life like you’ve been here to see it.”
There was another of those pensive looks of his, and I had to look away to keep from getting pinned to the floor again. I drained the last of my water and tossed the bottle in the trash, finger-combing my hair back. I needed to stay in that mode. No more damn tears, especially not in front of him.
“I’m not judging you, Jules,” he said. “Or I’m not meaning to come across that way.”
“Well, you’re failing, then.”
He pushed off the counter and came to stand in front of me again, crossing his arms for a sense of distance. Or possibly to keep from touching me. “No disrespect to your mom, but she and I never saw eye to eye.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said, his voice harder, rising to my bait. “She worked you like a puppet back then, and—” He breathed in and out as if weighing his words. “I guess I always hoped you’d get out from under her one day.”