Page 40 of Escape to Lighthouse Cove

“Yes, she did. She said Jacob wasn’t coming for his lesson and offered no explanation, so I thoughtyoumight have one.” Isaiah kept Noah’s gaze in steely challenge, and as much as he wanted to, Noah found he couldn’t look away. “Noah,” he said warningly, and Noah felt ten years old again, in trouble for leaving the tennis rackets on the court or going out in the sailboat without asking.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Noah forced out. He knew Isaiah knew he was lying, but he wasn’t about to explain his love life, or lack thereof, to the old man. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to Grace. She’d been embarrassed enough by what had happened between them a week ago now.

After Noah had apologized, Grace had scrambled off the sofa, her face on fire. “No need to apologize,” she’d said swiftly, reaching for their half-drunk coffee cups and whisking them away to the kitchen. “I blame it on the wine.”

Noah had risen slowly from the sofa and followed her into the kitchen, bracing his shoulder against the doorway as he tried to frame what he felt in a way that wouldn’t hurt her. “It’s not you…” he began, and she let out a wavering laugh.

“Please, Noah. No explanations are needed.” She’d flung up a hand as if to ward him off. “It was an impulse of the moment, nothing more. Let’s not ruin a nice evening with explanations and apologies when I’d really just rather forget about it, okay?” A steely note had entered her voice, and she’d folded her arms as she’d stared him down. It was not, Noah had known, the time to explain why he didn’t trust himself to get involved with another person, even for so much as a single kiss.

“Okay,” he’d said quietly, and she’d nodded jerkily while he’d gotten his coat. He’d paused by the door, wanting to say something more, but he didn’t know what it could possibly be. And meanwhile Grace had been staring daggers at him, clearly desperate for him to leave, and so he had.

That had been a week ago, and they hadn’t seen each other since. Noah had hoped he could explain his thoughts more today, when Jacob had his chess lesson, but now that wasn’t happening, and it was obviously his fault. Isaiah clearly thought so, too. Noah couldn’t blame him.

“What happened, Noah?” Isaiah asked, his voice gentling a little. “I thought the two of you were friends.”

“We were friendly,” Noah replied cautiously. He doubted Grace would consider him her friend now, and really, wasn’t that for the better? He couldn’t be trusted. Heknewthat. And now she knew it too. He raked a hand through his hair, before letting it fall to his side. “Look, if you want to know why she canceled, why don’t you ask her?”

Isaiah folded his arms. “So you’re saying you can’t think of a single reason why she would have?”

“Maybe Jacob is under the weather.”

Isaiah arched a single eyebrow. “She would have said if that was the case.”

“Isaiah…” Noah blew out an exasperated breath. “I really don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to tell me how and why you pushed away that lovely, fragile, beautiful woman,” he snapped. “Because I know that’s what happened, Noah. You’ve been pushing people away ever since Jem died.”

“Don’t.” The word tore from his throat, raw and aching. “Don’t,” he said again, more quietly.

Isaiah was silent, clearly simmering in his own frustration. Well, Noah knew how that felt. He kept his gaze on the screen of his laptop, the figures blurring before his eyes.

“Your mother asked about you,” Isaiah finally said, and Noah stiffened.

“Did she?” he replied tonelessly.

“She’s concerned about you, Noah.”

He let out a bark of humorless laughter. “So concerned she hasn’t talked to me in eighteen months.”

“Don’t you think you might have something to do with that?” Isaiah pressed.

“I’m just honoring her wishes,” Noah replied, his lips curving in a smile as devoid of humor as his laugh had been. “You know that as well as I do, Isaiah. You were there.”

He pictured his mother at Jem’s graveside, her face contorted with both grief and fury as she’d raised a shaking finger to shove it in Noah’s face.Don’t talk to me. Don’t ever talk to me again. You’re no son of mine.

The words had fallen like hammer blows, shattering any last desperate and fleeting hope he’d been clinging to, that Jem’s death hadn’t been his fault, and that he was the only one who felt like it might have been. When you had that kind of painful history, you didn’t kiss a broken woman back. You didn’t trust yourself not to hurt yet another person you cared about.

Isaiah sighed. “So is that it, then?” he asked.

Noah shrugged, reaching forward to click the mouse even though he could barely focus on the computer screen. “Is that what?” he asked, his tone one of deliberate disinterest.

“When are you going to take some steps toward living again?” Isaiah demanded. “You can’t hide away here forever, all on your own.”

“Actually, I can.” Thanks to his investments as well as his continued thoughtful dalliance with the stock market, he had plenty of money. There was no reason to leave Grayhaven, ever.

“Noah…” Isaiah shook his head slowly, and now he seemed only sad, which felt worse than the old man’s former frustration. “It’s not healthy.”

“It’s wise,” Noah replied shortly.