"No, you're right," he says. "I didn't lose you. I tossed you away. God, I was so fucking lost back then." He draws a breath. "I've been drowning in guilt for almost ten years now. Guilt that I hurt you, yes. But more than that, guilt that I married Darla. That I stayed with her."
"Because of me?"
"Because she's dead," he snaps, then curses. He draws a breath, and when he speaks again the words come more slowly. Almost eerily slow. "Because if I'd
followed my heart--you--then she and Diana would still be alive."
It takes me a moment to follow that chain of reasoning, but when I do, I see where it leads. To Mexico. To anonymous kidnappers. And to a crime that never would have happened had Noah not taken his family on that trip.
"That's not your fault."
"I know that. As far as facts and rational thought go, I'm one hundred percent with you. But in here?" He presses a hand over his heart. "In here, I killed them myself."
"Noah, no . . ." I don't know what to say. How to make him not feel what he feels. "You can't keep punishing yourself."
"No? I'm doing a remarkable job. Or I was. Then I came here, and I started to heal. I'm not sure if it was the passage of time or closure with Darla's official death declaration or getting out of LA. Whatever it was, this city was working its magic. I was healing."
"I'm glad," I say truthfully. "But why . . .?"
I trail off.
"Why, what?"
I hesitate, not sure if my question is one to which I truly want an answer. But this may be my only chance to ask him. And even if the answer hurts, I want to know. "Why didn't you come to me after the kidnapping? Was I already so far out of your heart?"
His eyes go wide. "Have you been listening to some other conversation? You never left my heart."
"Then, why?"
"How could I do that to you? 'Hi, I love you, I left you, but now I'm back because of a horrible tragedy'?"
"We could have worked through it. Or maybe we couldn't have. But didn't we deserve a chance?"
He drags his hand through his hair. "I don't know. I can look back and see so many possible paths now, but then? Back then I only saw my guilt. And I loved you too damn much to foist that on you. The man you'd fallen in love with was happy. Ambitious. But the guy who returned? Well, he was broken." He meets my eyes. "In a lot of ways he still is."
"Do you think that scares me?"
"I don't know. Maybe it should. But I hope it doesn't, because everything changed for me the day I walked away from a blind date and into The Fix. Because there you were, singing a song about lost love."
I blink as tears prick my eye.
He strokes my right, unbruised cheek, the gentle touch as potent as a kiss. "Like I said, a miracle."
I reach up and press my hand lightly over his, holding his hand against my face. I want so much right now, and yet I don't even know how to put my feelings into words, especially now that the drugs are kicking in and the room is starting to tilt as my eyelids get heavier and heavier.
"Just go to sleep," he says, stroking my hair and guiding me down so that my head is on the pillow. "I'll be right here."
"I know you will."
He presses a kiss to my forehead, and I force my eyes to flutter open.
"Noah? Can I go with you? To LA?"
"You want to meet Ryan? About the security system testimonials?"
That's not what I mean, and for a second, his words make no sense. Then I remember Red Brick and the job and all the rest of it. "I just meant for the wrap party," I say sleepily. "I'd like to go. As your date, I mean. If that's okay."
I force my eyes back open so I can see him, and I'm rewarded by a joyous smile.