Best Kept Secret (Rochester Trilogy 3)

Only it’s not Beau.

“Noah. Oh my God. What are you doing here?” I scramble up from the towel and throw my arms around him. His body is stiff, his expression haggard and irritated. His clothes are rumpled like he came straight from work and got on a plane. A ratty backpack is slung over one of his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

He looks from me to Paige and back again. I see the beach, and the inn, from his eyes. This is the kind of place we never would have dreamed of in the foster home. This is the kind of place rich people stay when they want a break from their easy lives.

“Who are you?” asks Paige. She doesn’t look thrilled to see Noah. Compared to Beau Rochester, he looks rough. Too thin and without any of the markers a visitor to the beach would normally have. He’s not wearing a swimsuit or upscale dock shoes. He’s in jeans with worn knees and a t-shirt that looks like it might come apart at the seams.

“This is my friend,” I tell her. “Go ahead and keep building your castle.”

I tug Noah a few steps away, and Paige, thankfully, goes back to her work without a fuss.

“What is happening to you?” He looks worse than tired. The ever-present circles under his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them. “What the hell, Jane? You came back to town and then you disappeared. You didn’t answer my calls. I thought something happened to you.”

“I’m sorry.” That’s my fault. I haven’t paid a second of attention to my phone since I walked into my apartment in Houston and found Emily there. “I’m really sorry, Noah. I should have let you know what was happening.”

He makes a go-ahead gesture, his eyes boring into mine.

“I can’t say much here.” I tip my head toward Paige, hoping he’ll understand. “But when I got back to Houston, someone was waiting for me.”

“Someone who ran you out of town?”

“Someone from here. Her mom,” I say in a low voice, though the sea breeze and the waves should be enough to cover the sound. “Emily. She asked me to come back here with her.”

Noah’s face is twisted in disgust. “So, what? You just hopped on a plane with her and came back without a word to anyone? How could you think that was okay?”

Guilt heats my face. “I know it’s not okay. I didn’t have much of a choice at the time.”

He scoffs. “She paid you to abandon your life, then.”

“No. She didn’t pay me. Nobody is paying me. I’m here because I want to be here.”

Noah looks like he doesn’t recognize me. Like the two of us didn’t spend years relying on each other to get through the hell we were living in. “Nobody’s paying you, but look at this.” He waves toward the inn. The sand. The stretch of beach with expensive houses tucked into the dunes. “This is all bullshit. You were going to college. You were going to make the world a better place. Now you’re some socialite wife?”

“What? We’re not—no.” Shame is a deep sunburn. “I’m not anyone’s wife.”

“But he’s not paying you. You’re just here to be with him and his kid.”

“Yes,” I say, before I can stop myself. “Yes. I’m here to be with him. I don’t know what it all means yet. I had unfinished business here. I’m allowed to finish it.”

He runs a hand through his hair, appalled. “You’re with him, then. You fell for him so hard that even after he kicked you to the curb, you’re still willing to crawl back and work for him for free.”

The way he says work for him makes it sound filthy. Like I’m a mistress or a prostitute. I don’t have any good arguments against either of those things. What people do is their business, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else, but Noah’s words are meant to make me feel like shit.

“If you’re trying to convince me to come back to Houston, this isn’t the way to do it.” I check on Paige. She’s on the third tower of her sandcastle now. A big enough wave could pull it under, but I’m not going to make her start over. I’ll help her rebuild the damn thing if that’s what happens. “You want to come here and tell me that I should be doing something different? I’m allowed to make my own choices.”

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything. You could have said something to me. You could have told me, Noah, I’m running back to Beau Rochester because I couldn’t handle one night back in my old life. I’m too good for it now.”

“Are you sure you want to be saying this?” I don’t let the tears stinging my eyes fall. “Be really sure. Because you can’t shove the words back into your mouth once they’re out. You can’t take them back.”