Pushing You Away - Noah & Katie (Ex-Con Duet 3)

“Hey!” She smacks my arm. “I can mind my own. Nothing I say is gonna change her mind. Believe me, I’ve tried. But it’s what you get, Noah Reid. You wouldn’t budge either when I asked you to let her visit on her behalf.”

“And I had a good reason for that, which she won’t let me explain,” I counter.

“Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want your excuses. You’re gonna have to win her back another way.”

“Yep,” Dad agrees. “Katie’s independent and strong-willed. She’s had to be for the last decade, so you’re gonna need to do a lot more than just sweet-talk her.”

God. Now my father is adding to this. Just great.

Belinda making an announcement that dinner is ready right now would be perfect but no such luck. Tyler comes strolling back in with a piece of bread in his mouth.

“You ready to work tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah. Can’t wait, honestly.”

“You’ll be working with Smith,” he tells me.

“Smith? I thought I was workin’ with you.”

“I’ll be there,” he confirms. “But Smith takes the lead on most projects since he’s experienced. It’s good for you too, so you can have a potential reference for a future job.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

Belinda picks that moment to let us know dinner’s on the table, and we all rush into the dining room. Dad grabs the plates, and Gemma sets the silverware. Tyler brings out the glasses, and I stare at the four of them.

“What can I do?”

“You can sit and enjoy,” Belinda muses.

“Hey, what did I say at the deli?”

“Hush. This isn’t the deli. This is home.”

I smile, then notice the way my dad looks at her, and it grows even wider. There’s so much adoration between them, it makes me damn happy.

“Alright, y’all. Dig in,” Belinda says after she says grace.

We chat about old memories and plans for the gym. It still doesn’t feel real to be eating at home with my family, but I am, and I’ll never take it for granted again.

Chapter Five

KATIE

It’s officially been eight days since Noah returned and knocked on my door, and even less since he strolled into the bank. When I saw Gemma at the boutique and told her what happened, I let it be known that he better be glad he left in one piece. I’m harboring a decade full of emotions, so my reactions when he’s around are more than valid.

After Owen and I finish eating lunch, he helps me clean up, then goes to his room.

As I wash the dishes and wipe down the counter, my mind wanders back to the past several years and how strong I’ve had to be. Juggling work, my son, and paying for everything. Anything I need, I do my damn self. Sometimes I resent Gabe for cheating and leaving me to do everything on my own, but then I feel guilty as hell about it because of the way he died.

Grief is weird and makes you second-guess your feelings. I loved Gabe, but once I got pregnant, things shifted between us. He didn’t look at me with the same twinkle in his eye. Instead of dealing with it, I ignored it. I’d made up my mind I’d figure it out after the baby was born.

I honestly feel as if I’m broken, and I’m meant to be single for the rest of my life. Most days, I’m okay with it. At thirty-one, I live in a small town where everyone knows my business and am in the process of remodeling an old house, all while trying to give Owen the best life that I possibly can. It makes dating nearly impossible, so I gave up on it years ago.

After the kitchen’s cleaned, I vacuum and try to pick up the house before tomorrow. Heading to Owen’s room, I find him lying on his bed listening to music.

“Laundry time,” I tell him, and he immediately huffs. I lift an eyebrow in warning because this is our Sunday tradition. He puts his tablet on the bed and opens his closet door. Clothes are halfway off the hangers, socks litter the floor, and shoes are stacked on top of each other. Owen grabs a few shirts he had stuffed in the corner.

“This is it?” I ask as he hands me hardly anything. “What about everything you wore all week to school? Your basketball uniforms?”

“Mom,” he whines, and I step around him, looking for myself.

I give him a smile. “I’m going to put these in the wash, and I need you to bring me the rest. Got it?”

He nods, and I walk away. I’m certain he’s back to stuffing things under his bed because he knows how I feel about things being on the floor. I might not be able to give him everything, but the least I can do is teach him how to clean up after himself. I’m raising a gentleman who will eventually make some woman happy and treat her like a queen.