Noah offered her a look of sympathy. “I heard. You’re obviously more than welcome to stay. You can take my room.”
Chelsie lifted her head and glanced up at Noah. “What have I done? I ruined everything. I was too scared to tell him the truth.”
“Try not to think about it tonight,” Noah said. “I’m sure he just needs to sleep on it. He’d be a fool to lose you.”
Chelsie’s stomach did a little whirl at Noah’s words. He’d said the words so flippantly – yet, they moved her to her core. He’d be a fool to lose you.
“I’m the fool,” she muttered. “I’m honestly not sure why you think so highly of me.”
Noah’s face was unreadable, but he had that look in his eyes again. The look that made her belly flutter. “I see what Sam sees,” he told her. “And Devon. And probably every person you cross paths with. I’ll never understand how you don’t see it, too.”
Chelsie gaped at him. She was stunned into silence by a man who had once been a master of slinging insults her way. Now, he was the only one in the world she wanted to be sitting next to at that moment. “Thank you.” It was an inadequate bestowal for such a high acclaim, but it was all she had in her.
“Come on.” Noah tapped her knee and stood up from the couch. A playful kindling danced in his green eyes. “I’ll show you to your quarters, m’lady.”
Chelsie always stayed out of Noah’s room when she took care of Sam. She had only been in there once after Sam had jammed his Hot Wheels car underneath the door. It looked the same as it had that day – charcoal gray walls and gray bedding. It was stark and unfitting for a man like Noah, who was full of spirit and humor. The bed was unmade, and a small dresser was the only other piece of furniture in the room.
“This space could use the touch of a Gaines,” Chelsie teased as she looked around.
“A what now?” Noah wondered. He poked his head in the closet for an extra pillow.
Chelsie laughed. “Never mind. You’re clearly not the HGTV type.”
“No, I’m not,” Noah agreed. “But you’re welcome to decorate whenever you’re over. I suppose some color pops wouldn’t hurt in here. Maybe a ficus in the corner.”
“Definitely a ficus,” Chelsie smiled. “Those trees are so… happy.”
“Okay, Bob Ross.”
Chelsie stepped over to the bed with a grin. “So, this is it, huh? My arrangements for the night? You know I don’t mind the couch.”
“Only a total douche would put a woman on the couch,” Noah said.
Chelsie shrugged. The king-sized bed looked appealing and she didn’t have any fight in her to argue. She turned around to say goodnight. Noah was standing closer than she’d anticipated and a breath caught in her throat. A glimmer of moonlight shone through the cracked curtains, lighting up his silhouette. For one profound and disarming second, Chelsie thought that maybe – just maybe – he was going to kiss her. A tension burned inside her belly and she stood there frozen, the back of her legs grazing the foot of the bed.
Instead, he held out his hands and handed her the pillow. “Goodnight.”
Then he was gone.
Chelsie let out the breath she forgot she was holding and tightened her grip on the pillow. She didn’t know what that was – or what she wanted it to be. The air around her felt charged. She placed a hand over her heart as if that would somehow slow its hurried beats.
“Goodnight,” she whispered to the room. Chelsie turned and climbed into bed, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to her fevered skin. She was about to place the pillow under her head but changed her mind and tossed it to the floor instead. She reached over and pulled one of Noah’s pillows underneath her cheek, inhaling its aroma. The scent of tobacco and sandalwood consumed her senses. She smiled as she closed her eyes and pulled the comforter up to her chin. Despite her confrontation with Devon looming on the horizon, Chelsie felt content. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, her anxiety and fear washing away.
13 Chapter Thirteen
“Wake up, seepy head!”
Chelsie startled awake. Her eyes were glazed over from sleep. She tried to focus on the source of her disturbance, but she was distracted by a familiar smell in the air. “Is that… pancakes?”
“Yes, Miss Chelsie! Daddy made us pancakes.”
Chelsie’s gaze landed on Sam, who was bouncing with excitement on the bed. Chelsie rubbed her eyes with a yawn. “Hi, Sam,” she greeted.
Sam bounced harder. “Are you excited for pancakes? I helped crack the eggs,” he said with pride.
It had been a long time since Chelsie had awoken to the smell of pancakes. Devon was not the culinary type. Ancient memories danced through her mind of her father making Sunday morning pancakes, and U2 playing through the speakers. She had lived for Sunday mornings.
“Come on!” Sam begged, pulling at her arm. “They’re getting cold.”
Chelsie smiled and threw off the covers. “Let’s go.” She followed Sam down the stairs, checking her appearance in the hall mirror. She cringed at the knots in her hair, smeared mascara, and yesterday’s clothing. She looked like a walking one-night-stand, only she had no fun stories to share. Chelsie ran her fingers through her tangled mane and frantically wiped at her raccoon eyes. She straightened her shirt and shrugged in defeat – not much else she could do.
“Mornin’.” A familiar voice greeted her in the kitchen. Noah was plopping a stack of pancakes on to each plate. “Syrup is on the table. I kind of overdid it on the butter, but when it comes to pancakes, go big or go home, right?”
“I completely agree,” Chelsie said, her stomach growling. “It smells wonderful.”
“Old, family recipe,” Noah told her. He set the plates down at each chair. “Cinnamon is the secret ingredient.”
Chelsie took her seat and eyed the steaming pile of flapjacks. A bowl of fresh fruit was set in front of her. She snatched a grape and popped it into her mouth. “Such service,” she said to Noah. She watched as he made his way around the kitchen like he was trying out for a competitive cooking show. “I had no idea you enjoyed cooking.”
Noah glanced at her as he lit up a skillet and tossed bacon slices in the pan. “Enjoy, yes. Do I have time for it? Almost never,” he admitted. “My schedule is insane. I’m lucky if I have time to make a sandwich. Rosa usually takes over in the cooking department.”
Chelsie decided that was a shame because he had made some mighty fine pancakes. She shoveled another forkful into her mouth. “These are so good. Thank you.”
“Did I do a good job?” Sam looked between the two adults, searching for praise.
“You sure did, buddy,” Noah said. He strolled over to the table, carrying a platter of sizzling bacon. He took a seat next to Chelsie.
“Miss Chelsie? Why did you have a sleepover in Daddy’s room?”
Chelsie almost choked on her pancakes. Sam was using his fork to make designs in the syrup on his plate. She cleared her throat. “Well, your dad got home a little late last night and I was really tired. It was better for me to stay and sleep instead of drive home.”
“Because you might crash in your car?” he wondered.
“It was possible,” she explained. “It’s always better to be safe.”
“Can you have a sleepover wif me in my room? I have a sleeping bag you can use.”
She chuckled. “That would be fun. Thank you.”
“Miss Chelsie?”
“Yes, Sam?”
Sam set his fork down with a clumsy clatter and began to swing his legs back and forth. “Can you be my mom?”
The question sucked the air out of Chelsie’s lungs. She looked over at Noah, but she couldn’t read him. She hated when she couldn’t read him. “U – Um, well…” Chelsie did not know what to say to the child. She swallowed back an assortment of explanations and excuses – nothing felt right. How could she respond without breaking his heart? No matter how she phrased it, the answer was still no.
“Sammy… Chelsie can’t be your
mom,” Noah said.
“Because she’s already someone else’s mom?” Sam asked, unaware of the tension growing in the room.
“She just can’t. Now, eat your food.”
Chelsie set her fork down and folded her hands on the table. “Sam, it means so much that you would ask me to be your mom. I care about you a whole lot. Being your mom would be very special,” she explained. “But I can only be your friend.”
Sam picked at a dollop of dried food that was stuck to the table. “Is it because I’m bad sometimes?”
Tears stung at Chelsie’s eyes. Her heart ached. “Oh, honey, that’s not it at all. You’re a good boy.” She reached out her hand to him, but Sam pushed his chair back and hopped down.
“Nobody wants me,” he said tearfully, then walked out of the room.
Chelsie raised her hand to her mouth. She turned to look at Noah. He was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed. “I – I’m sorry if I butchered that. I didn’t know what to say. I…”
“It’s fine. There’s nothing else you could have said,” Noah told her.
He opened his eyes and the sorrow on his face was unmistakable. Chelsie bit down on her tongue and wrung her hands together on her lap. “I had no idea he had been thinking about that,” she said.
Noah let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe I need to start thinking about that,” he considered. “Settling down. Laying roots. Maybe that’s what he needs.” Noah zoned out momentarily. “Sometimes I just wish…”
Chelsie braced herself for the rest of his words, but they never came. She reached out her hand and placed it on his knee. “You’re doing a good job, Noah. He’s going to be okay.” His face had turned stoic. The sadness had left his eyes as quickly as it had appeared. He drew his lips in a tight line and pushed his tongue against his cheek.
“You should probably go,” he said.
Chelsie glanced down at her half-eaten plate of breakfast. She could tell his suggestion was a kindly disguised order. She was okay with that – she understood.
Only… she had nowhere to go.
“Thank you for the pancakes,” she told him, pushing herself away from the table. Chelsie’s shift at the The Pit Stop didn’t start for another four hours, but maybe she could clock in early. Her leisurely morning plan of playing dinosaurs and board games with Sam had disintegrated.
Chelsie debated going to the condo in hopes of a happy ending with Devon, but she couldn’t stomach the thought of his possible rejection – not just yet.
“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Noah said as Chelsie stood from her chair. “You didn’t finish eating. Please sit.”
Chelsie’s palms were sticky with syrup. She rubbed them against the front of her jeans and massaged the tiny balls of fibers that had transferred over between her fingertips. She was contemplating his offer. More time with Sam and Noah was never time she regretted.
However, she knew her lingering presence was only confusing Sam. Distance might be for the best.
“Thanks,” Chelsie answered. “But you’re right. I should go.” She watched as Noah rose from his seat, either in protest or to walk her to the door. She held out her hand. “I can let myself out. I appreciate everything you did for me.”
Chelsie turned and walked through the kitchen to the living room. She snatched up her purse that was draped over the back of the couch. As she approached the front door, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist before she could reach for the handle. Chelsie spun around, startled.
“I don’t want you to think you can’t come back.”
She stared up at Noah. His eyes were solemn, as if needing confirmation that he hadn’t scared her away for good – that they both hadn’t scared her away.
“I’ll be back. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Chelsie said with a grin.
It was the truth. She had tried to stay away, but she missed Sam.
She missed them both.
“You have a place here if you ever need it,” Noah assured her. He took a step towards her.
If things don’t work out with Devon.
“I know,” she said, pushing the thoughts out of her mind. “Tell Sam I said goodbye.” Chelsie reached out to give Noah’s hand a gentle squeeze before turning to open the door.
She hesitated briefly. It was the slightest pause, and one Noah may not have noticed. But Chelsie noticed. She felt something deep in her bones. It was only a fraction of a second, but the feeling washed over her and stayed with her all day.
Remnants of it lingered during her impromptu coffee date with Lisa that morning. They had talked of books they had read, the good shows on Netflix, and their plans for the week. Every so often, Chelsie would drift away and ponder that poignant moment.
As she walked into work that afternoon, her mind wandered, and she forgot her punch-in code. She was still distracted. Her thoughts were cloudy.
“You’re late,” Jerry admonished. The pungent smell of his body odor assaulted her as he stormed by.
Chelsie fumbled with the keypad until she regained her senses. 5609 – the street number of her childhood home.
Yes, that was it. How could she forget? That place held her most precious and beloved memories. That house had her dreams and aspirations carved into its plaster walls. It would forever be her home.
That was why she was shaken. That was why her mind kept recycling that moment over and over.
Home. For one alarming and consequential second… Noah had felt like home.
***
It was a slow night at The Pit Stop. Tips were unkind, the music made her head throb, and Jerry was on a roll. Chelsie glanced up at the band playing on stage and recalled the night she’d met Freeze Frame for the first time – the night she had locked eyes with Devon Sawyer and her life was forever changed. A wistful sigh escaped her lips. She wanted to go back to that night. She wanted to turn back the clock and tell Devon the truth about her ugly past. She wanted to do things differently.
“Chelsie! Get these appetizers out.”
Chelsie jolted where she stood and trudged back into the kitchen with heavy feet. Sometimes she wondered why she kept her meager job as a waitress and allowed her boss to treat her like trash.
“You’re on my last nerve. Get your shit together or go home,” Jerry shouted. Beads of sweat fell from his round face and soaked the front of his button-down shirt.
Home.
Chelsie picked up a tray of stuffed mushrooms labeled ‘Table 5’. She looked through the kitchen door at the bustling venue. She hated her job. She hated the noise. She hated her boss. No matter how much Chelsie’s life had progressed, he always managed to make her feel small.
Why am I here?
Chelsie froze when she realized she’d spoken her thoughts out loud.
Jerry stopped in his tracks. His face was redder than a ripe tomato. “What did you just say?”
Chelsie’s heart began to race. “I…”
“You’re here because I pay your goddamn, sorry ass to be here!” His voice was loud enough to startle the kitchen help. They quickly averted their eyes.
Normally, Chelsie would cower like a scolded child, but today she felt… different. She refused to be bullied by Jerry. She refused to work at a job she hated. Chelsie didn’t have a rent payment anymore, and while she hated falling into old, dependent patterns, she knew she’d be okay until she found a better job. She just wanted to be free.
Chelsie set the tray of appetizers back onto the counter. She unclipped her nametag. “I quit.” She did not wait for Jerry’s reaction. She turned around and pushed through the swinging doors with a feeling of liberation.
As Chelsie weaved through the crowd of patrons, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Lisa and Julia. She bumped into someone along the way. “Oh! Sorry.” Chelsie looked up and immediately recognized the man. “Miles?” Her eyes drifted to his right and Chelsie frowned at the mysterious woman on his arm.
“Uh, hey, Chelsie. Forgot you worked here.” Miles scrat
ched the back of his neck and pulled away from the raven-haired beauty.
“Who’s your friend?” Chelsie asked. She already knew.
“Oh, uh, nobody.”
The woman scoffed and crossed her arms over her low-cut blouse.
Chelsie narrowed her eyes. “Well, good to see you.”
Miles nodded and guided the woman away from Chelsie and towards the bar. Chelsie’s heart hurt for Lisa. There had been signs Miles was unfaithful, but nothing concrete. Lisa was going to be heartbroken.
It was time for damage control. The drive to Devon’s condo had gone by in a flash. Chelsie had been so lost in thought, she was driving on auto pilot. So many scenarios played through her mind as she sat silently in the parking garage. None of them were good.
She had to get this over with. She had to win him back.
Unlike the drive over, the elevator ride to his high-rise unit was painfully slow. Inch by inch. Second by second. Chelsie felt like she was choking on her own heartbeat.
When she arrived at his door, she knocked. She didn’t know why she knocked. She had a key. Yet, she felt like a visitor – an outsider. So, she knocked.
Devon opened the door looking disheveled. His hair was a matted mess and he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Maybe he was thinking the same thing about her. Chelsie wondered if he’d been depressed over their separation, but then she got a whiff of the alcohol on his breath. He was hungover. Or drunk. She wasn’t sure yet.
“You have a key,” Devon said.
“I know.” He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Can I come in?”
Devon moved to the side to allow her entry. His movements were sluggish. Chelsie wondered if he was hesitant to let her in, or if it was the effects of the booze slowing him down. Either way, Chelsie felt a potent lump growing in the back of her throat as she made her way into the living room. She hadn’t even set her purse down before he spoke.
“Are you sleeping with him?”
Chelsie froze. “What? No. God, Devon.” She decided she was offended by the question. She had no right to be, but she was. She was angry and insulted.
Aria (Duet Series Book 1) Page 15
