Page 51 of Escape to Lighthouse Cove

Thatwaswhat this was about, right? And not something stupid and self-absorbed, because if it was, then he reallyhadn’tchanged, which meant he was right to stay away from Grace.

Right?

His mind spun in useless circles, going precisely nowhere.

On the fourth day after he’d kissed Grace, he found himself in Jem’s room. Again. It had blindsided him, going into that room, seeing Jacob there, reminding him so much of his brother. The sea glass collection on the windowsill… untouched but, he realized as he stepped in there again, dusted.

Isaiah had to be keeping the room clean. Why?

Slowly Noah walked into the room. He turned in a circle, taking it all in. The books on chess and manga comics Jem had loved. The model airplanes suspended above the bed; when they’d been about eight, they’d been obsessed with them one summer. Noah had gotten rid of all his when he’d entered his teens, but Jem hadn’t.

His gaze rested on the sea glass, and he sighed. How many afternoons had he and Jem trawled the beach, looking for that glass? He’d always gotten bored; Jem had been utterly intent. It was how they’d operated, always, Jem the patient, steady one, Noah restless and yet responsible for his brother.

A sound escaped him; he wasn’t sure what it was. He lowered himself onto the bed and then simply stared into space.

Time passed. Noah had no idea how much—a minute? An hour? Maybe something in between. His mind was empty, completely empty, which should have been a relief but just felt sad.

And then the door opened. Noah looked up and saw Isaiah smiling at him sadly.

“I wondered when you would come in here.”

“You’ve been keeping it clean.” His voice sounded rusty. Maybe he’d been in here longer than he’d realized.

“It felt right.” Isaiah came into the room, gazing at the sea glass on the sill—green, blue, even purple, smooth and curved, each piece like a work of art. “I miss him, too,” he said quietly and Noah pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“Do you blame me?” he asked, the words forced out through a throat that had become painfully tight. He dropped his hands to stare at Isaiah openly, knowing all the grief was there in his face for the other man to see. “Do you?”

“Noah, no. I never did.” Isaiah’s voice was gentle and full of sorrow.

“My mother did.”

“Briefly, maybe, yes. She’s like you, Noah. She feels things deeply, she acts on impulse. I’m sure she’s regretted what she’s said to you.”

Noah shook his head, resolute. “Why hasn’t she been in touch for the last year and a half then?”

“For the same reason you’ve shut yourself up here for the last year and a half,” Isaiah replied with a touch of wryness. “Because you’re both stubborn and believe you can’t be forgiven.”

Noah braced his elbows on his thighs, his head hanging down. “But it is my fault, Isaiah,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t listen to him. I didn’t take care of him.”

“Maybe that wasn’t your job,” Isaiah replied gently.

Noah glanced up, a sudden surge of surprising anger firing through him. “That has always been my job!” he declared. “Always.”

“And is that really fair?” Isaiah countered. “We can’t be responsible for another person, Noah, not like that, and especially not when you’re just a boy.”

“But I wasn’t a boy,” Noah insisted. “Isaiah, I was thirty-five! And I still ignored him?—”

“Jem was thirty-five, too,” Isaiah replied evenly. “Aman, Noah. If he’d wanted to go, he could have.”

It was the first time Noah had heard anything like that, and for a second, it felt like a ray of light slanting through the tiniest crack in the dark door in his soul. But then the door slammed shut again.

“No.” He shook his head. “He never would have. He wouldn’t have given up Grob. He knew how it would have been too hard for me on my own.”

“And yet he did exactly that,” Isaiah stated quietly. “Noah, Jem’s death—it wasn’t your fault.”

Again Noah felt that surge of anger, inexplicable and overwhelming. “Itwas,” he insisted. “You know it was.”

“Do you want it to be?” Isaiah challenged. “Why are you holding onto all this guilt? What good does it do you? Do you think it’s what Jem would have wanted?”