Balancing Act, page 22
Willow sat on the sofa in front of where he’d placed her drink. Noah knelt beside the fireplace and flipped open the woodbox where he’d stored a selection of dog toys. As he dug through the box, he began. “I owe you an apology.”
Surprise filled her voice. “For what?”
He pulled a toy made of braided yarn from the box, then sat on the floor and looked up at Willow, holding her gaze. “I want to apologize for ghosting you. After we sealed the deal.”
After they’d kissed.
“Oh. Well. Yes, I did wonder if I misread things.” Willow set down the puppy, who scampered over toward Noah.
“No. Not at all. You knocked my socks off.” He offered the toy to the puppy, and they began the tug-of-war. Willow sipped her drink and waited. He quirked a smile. “Not going to make this any easier on me, are you?”
“Not my job to make things easy.”
Noah nodded. “It scared me. When I’m scared, I run away. It’s what I do. What I’ve been doing since I watched my brother die.”
“Oh, Noah. I take it back. Can I make it easier? Don’t feel like you have to tell me anything. Seriously, we’re good.”
He grinned at her, reached into the toy box, grabbed a ball, and tossed it to her. Willow was quick, and she caught it. “You’re offering to be my emotional-support person?”
“I guess I am.”
Noah scooped up the puppy as he rose, walked to the sofa, and dropped beside her. He set the puppy on his lap, but an intelligent girl, she crawled halfway into Willow’s. Noah draped his right arm around Willow’s shoulders and stroked the puppy’s back with his left. He drew a deep breath and began. “Firefighting is in my blood. Truly was the family business. I’d always known that when I stopped playing football, I’d head for the fire academy, and that’s what I did. My grandfather, two uncles, and my dad were all Denver firefighters. Daniel—my brother—and I worked out of the same station where our dad had been chief.”
“Was Daniel older than you or younger?”
“Older. Daniel was our lieutenant.” Noah paused and reached for his drink. A little fortifying inner fire to get through this. “He wasn’t on shift that night. He wasn’t supposed to be at the station. The call came in from an old warehouse on the edge of downtown. Four-alarm fire. Our truck was first on the scene. We were a crew of three. Me, John Wilson, and our driver, Mack Kulpa. John and I were clearing the building—had some homeless folk tucked away in nooks and crannies. It was going up fast, but we were getting the job done.”
He shut his eyes and was catapulted back into the nightmare.
The heat. The smoke. Cra-a-a-ck!
Whoosh. Noah had lunged away, but a mountain slammed into him. I’m down. Pinned down. Agony. Radiating. Radiating. Radiating. Can’t move. Can’t move. Can’t move.
Coppery-tasting fear washed through him. Where’s Wilson? He had been right beside Noah. “Wilson, report!” Nothing. “John!”
Think. Think! He keyed the radio. “Firefighters down. Firefighters trapped. Second division. Charlie side.”
The radio crackled. Kulpa, the driver, replied. “Cavalry is coming, Noah. Half a dozen more trucks are on-site, and crews are on the way up. The loo just arrived.”
Daniel?
Yeah, of course his brother would show up.
“Wilson?” Noah tried again. “Talk to me, bud—” He broke off when a cough racked his body.
By the time he caught his breath again, he spied figures coming up the stairs. Two men crossed the smoke-filled room to him. Familiar faces. Harrison and Kemp. “Wilson?”
“We’ve got eyes on him, Noah. We’re gonna get him out. First, though, let’s get you loose.”
A heavy wooden beam had pinned his left leg. At this point, the agony subsided because Noah didn’t feel anything. He couldn’t feel anything! More men arrived, and they went to work lifting and levering the weight off his leg.
“How’s Wilson?” he asked.
The hum of conversation taking place around him briefly paused, and Kemp repeated, “We’ve got eyes on him.”
Noah pushed himself up on his elbows, anxious about his crew buddy. That’s when he saw his brother framed in the doorway at the opposite end of the warehouse.
Some part of Noah relaxed at that moment. Here was the big brother who checked the closet and beneath the bed for monsters, the hero who took back Noah’s stolen lunch money and gave the third-grade bully a black eye for his trouble. Here was the person who always, always had Noah’s back.
Their gazes met and held. Daniel nodded. It’s gonna be okay now. Big bro is here. Superman is here to save the day.
Daniel headed across the room. That familiar no-nonsense stride.
And then, without warning, the floor fell, and Daniel Tannehill disappeared.
Noah was brought back to the present when he felt the brush of a tissue across his cheeks. Embarrassment washed through him as he opened his eyes. How long he had sat there without speaking, he couldn’t say. “Oh hell. Was I crying?”
“No,” Willow said, tucking the tissue into her pocket. “Just a little allergy. Pet dander, you know.”
Crap. “Pet dander,” Noah repeated with a snort. He shifted the puppy’s position, more for something to do than because it needed doing. “That’s embarrassing.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. Tears are sometimes a tribute.”
If that was the case, Noah probably had enough tribute locked inside him to build a monument to compete with Mount Rushmore. He reached for his drink and slammed it back, then decided to be done with this. “Fire had weakened the floor’s structural integrity, and it gave out beneath my brother’s weight. He fell into the fire in the room below. They, uh, couldn’t get to him in time. Wilson didn’t make it out, either.”
Willow set her hand atop his as compassion filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Noah. That’s a tragic loss.”
He nodded, unable to say more due to the lump of emotion that had formed in his throat.
After a moment of silence, Willow asked, “You’ve mentioned you’ve lost your parents, but do you have any other siblings? Any other family?”
He cleared his throat. “No siblings. It was just me and Daniel.”
“So you two were close?” He nodded, and she suggested, “Tell me about him.”
Noah opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You’re such a guy,” Willow complained. Noah could tell she was trying to lighten the mood. “Did Daniel look like you? Was he into sports? What were his favorite movies? Tell me something the two of you did as kids that got you into trouble.”
Her prompts proved to be just what he needed. Noah answered her basic questions, but it was the tale of childhood shenanigans that loosened both his tongue and the vise around his heart. For the first time since Daniel’s death, Noah was able to remember his brother with a laugh, rather than tears.
When he finished the story about sneezing powder and a fan in freshman algebra class, he fell silent, his thoughts reflective. It had felt good to talk about his brother. Surprisingly good.
Then Willow asked a question guaranteed to spoil his mellowing mood.
“Did Daniel have someone special in his life?”
“Two someones,” Noah replied. “Daniel was married. He had a daughter. Madeline. Maddie. She’s a little older than Emma.”
“Oh,” Willow breathed. “Oh, I see.” She brightened with a smile. “You made the dollhouse for Maddie.”
“No!” Noah quickly responded. “I didn’t. I made it for…” He shook his head and said, “Look, my brother’s wife and I aren’t in touch. I haven’t seen her since before the accident.”
“You didn’t go to your brother’s funeral?” Then, before he could respond, she answered the question herself. “Your leg. You were in the hospital, I imagine.”
He nodded. “For two months. It was a tib-fib fracture. Six surgeries. Another month in a rehab hospital. Discharged home but still tethered to daily outpatient rehab appointments for another three months. As soon as I was sprung, I headed here. I’ve been here ever since.”
“So, why don’t you see your sister-in-law?”
He shrugged. “Our last visit wasn’t… pleasant. She came to see me in the hospital. She wanted to know what had happened inside the building, so I told her. I told her the ugly truth and then sent her away. Told her to stay away. She’s stayed away. I’m sure she blames me. I sure as hell blame myself. He wouldn’t have been there if not for me.”
“Are you certain of that?” Willow’s expression had turned doubtful. “From what you’ve said about Daniel, he sounds like the kind of guy who would have gone in whether he was on call or not. So would you. That’s who you are. It’s hardwired into you.”
Noah suddenly needed to move. He rose from the sofa and walked over to the toy box, where he tossed the tug rope into its depths. Then he glared at the gas logs, wishing it were a wood fire so he could pick up a fireplace poker and stir the logs. He needed to do something physical.
He settled for giving the toy box a good, solid kick and dumped it over. Thinking this must be a new game, the puppy leaped down from Willow’s lap and made a beeline for the toys. Noah linked his fingers behind his head with his elbows extended wide. He stared blindly at a rawhide bone that had spilled from the box. “I can’t face his wife and daughter, okay? I can’t. I just can’t. I’m a coward.”
The springs in his sofa squeaked when she rose and approached him. Noah tensed. Her touch was as gentle as a feather when she slipped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his back.
He closed his eyes against the pressure building behind them. His chest was tight from churning emotion—regret and grief and guilt. So much guilt. As fresh today as the day of Daniel’s funeral. “Time heals all wounds” is a damned lie.
A shudder swept over him. Noah knew he was about to seriously lose it, so he pulled away from Willow and turned to flee.
She stopped him. She stepped in front of him and stopped him with a hand against his chest. Sincerity gleamed in her gaze and echoed in her voice as she stated, “You’re not a coward, Noah. You’re just not ready yet.”
Then she went up onto her tiptoes and kissed him tenderly.
That one small expression of faith in him was all it took.
Noah broke. He kissed her back. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her hard against him. Moving his lips over hers, he plunged his tongue into her mouth and poured out his anguish and his pain. Seeking comfort. Seeking oblivion. Seeking that warmth that was Willow.
What he found was heat. Willow kissed him back. She molded herself against him and circled his neck with her arms. Her fingers sank into his hair. She tasted like honey and heaven, and when she moaned against his mouth, his blood ran hot and burned away the memories that plagued him. The nip of her teeth against his lower lip banished all awareness beyond the woman in his arms.
He backed her against the wall, the pressure of her body pressed against him, both pleasure and pain. Her hands moved urgently across his back, and her nails scratched his neck. Noah shuddered. Willow groaned. He lifted her off the floor, and she wrapped her legs around him and sighed with pleasure.
He wanted. Oh, how he wanted. He buried his face against her neck and made her shudder when he found a sensitive spot below her ear. He rocked against her in that age-old rhythm that had him clenching his teeth and caused sweat to bead on his brow.
He could carry her upstairs to his bed and deal with this. She wouldn’t protest. By all indications, she’d be an enthusiastic participant. And yet their timing was off.
“Wait.” Noah tore his mouth away from her. He was tempted back by the sweet skin of her neck to press a string of kisses from her ear to her collarbone. She tasted so good. Smelled so delicious. He badly wanted to silence this kernel of conscience that was telling him to stop, except he couldn’t.
“Wait,” he repeated, stepping away from her but keeping his hands firmly around her waist. He was unable to make himself stop touching her. “This is bad timing, Willow.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice thready.
“I’m a mess right now. Don’t get me wrong. I’m very attracted to you. Have been since the moment we met. I would love nothing more than to take you upstairs to the bed in my loft this moment. But I have no business starting a relationship with any woman, much less a woman with children. I have nothing to give you. Maybe someday—”
“Hush, Noah.” Willow put her finger over his lips. “No harm, no foul. I’m very attracted to you, too. Obviously. But the last thing I need in my life right now is a romantic relationship. That said, I like you, Noah. I could use a friend. Tonight. I would love to be your friend tonight.”
Noah stilled. He did not want to make a mistake here, but he wasn’t certain what the mistake would be. He needed a friend, too. Absolutely. But could she be looking for more? Could he? Was there any possibility that this could be more than a one-night, soft place to fall for one another? He wanted her. Oh yeah, he wanted her. But he wanted it to be right. “Okay, I may be reading this all wrong. I’m seriously out of practice here. Is this sort of like that support-person thing? Support-person sex?”
She laughed softly. “Maybe so. I don’t know, Noah. I know that I’m feeling selfish right now. My life is a mess, and I can’t see beyond tomorrow, but I want tonight for me. I haven’t been with a man since my husband. If you want me, then I’ll choose you. Just for tonight. Will you take me upstairs, Noah?”
“You’re sure?”
“You think I’d make a little speech like that if I wasn’t sure?”
He studied her, read the promise and the certainty in the steadiness of her eyes. A feeling began to uncurl inside him, and it took him a moment to identify it. Happiness. I’ll be damned. “First one, hmm?”
“Yes.”
His lips twisted ruefully. “Bit of pressure, there.”
“Not really,” she assured him, a gleam of amusement entering her eyes. “Not a hard act to follow, so to speak.”
Noah’s mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “What I should do is sweep you up into my arms like a romance novel hero and kiss you passionately as I carry you up the spiral staircase and then lay you across my bed.”
He leaned forward and nipped her chin. Willow pouted. “That’s not what you’re going to do?”
“With this leg? That’d be pressing our luck. I’m afraid we’d both end up crumpled at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Valid point.”
“Besides, I need to make a run up to the house for necessary supplies. If I’m the first guy since numbnuts, I doubt you carry condoms in your handbag.”
“True.” Willow smiled brilliantly at him.
“I’ll be quick as a minute. Well, getting to the house and back. Not once I’m in bed with you. There, I’ll take my time. I promise. Although, fair warning, the first time might be quicker than we’d like because it has been a long time, but I’ll make it up to you the second—”
“Go, Tannehill.” Laughing, Willow pushed him toward the door. “Hurry.”
“Don’t change your mind while I’m gone!”
“I won’t.”
“Better put the puppy in her pen.”
“I will.”
Noah exited the apartment and hurried toward the house. Halfway there, Noah began to run.
Chapter Twelve
GENEVIEVE TAPPED HER FOOT on the wheelchair’s footrest while waiting for Helen to pull her car into the hospital’s circular drive. She wanted to stand up. She wanted to pace and rant and rage. Instead, she had to sit quietly and exchange small talk with the poor orderly tasked with seeing her safely into her ride away from the hospital.
Finally, Helen pulled up in her Range Rover. Genevieve lurched from the wheelchair over the orderly’s cautions. She climbed into her sister’s vehicle, tossing the young man a smile over her shoulder. “Thank you so much, Steve. Have a nice evening, now. Good luck on that English exam.”
She slammed the passenger door shut. “Get me out of here.”
“Oh, Genevieve. Cool your jets. You’ve been here, what—four hours? Five?”
“I got four stitches in my hand. One per hour. I had time enough to have a colonoscopy or something else fun while I was there.”
“Want me to turn around?”
Genevieve ignored the question. Her hand throbbed. Her heart ached. Hadn’t Willow gone through enough already?
“Did you know about this, Helen?”
Warily, Helen asked, “Know about what?”
Genevieve’s tone was flat and grim as she said, “Andy’s baby mama.”
Her sister gasped and whipped her head around to pin Genevieve with a look. “His what?”
“Baby mama. When Andy died, he left behind a pregnant girlfriend.”
“He did not!” Helen scoffed.
“Yes, he did.”
Helen’s eyes flashed with fury, and she turned a corner a shade too fast. “Why, that asshole!”
Genevieve studied her sister closely. “You really didn’t know?”
“No!” Helen exclaimed. “I’m totally out of the loop on this. Spill the tea, sister.”
Genevieve did just that, hitting the highlights—or low-lights, as it were—about everything she’d learned from Willow today. When she was done, Helen let out a long, low whistle and a string of unflattering curses directed toward the late Andy Eldridge.
“I am so angry at that S.O.B.,” Helen said when she wound down. “Surprised, too. I knew that their marriage had some rocky spots, but what marriage hasn’t? Had no clue that he’d cheated on her. I certainly didn’t know about any baby. I’d have told you that.”
Genevieve believed her. “Willow never mentioned divorce to you?”
“Nope. Never hinted at it.”
“Oh. I wish she’d talked to you.” Genevieve realized that was true, too. “I wish she had talked to somebody. I’m certain her sister didn’t know. Brooke wouldn’t have been able to keep that kind of secret, either. We could have helped Willow through this.”
