Fair Play (12 page)

Kyle Pritchard wasn’t just putting my career and The Marshall Theater at risk. This wasn’t just about saving the town of Phair or Noah’s big expansion plans with the Cambridge Hotels. Kyle’s threat would destroy what was now Noah’s family. And there was nothing I could do to help.

Chapter Sixteen

Noah

It had been difficult not to let on to Ashlyn that I knew about her run-in with Pritchard. While I knew because of the GPS tag I’d affixed to his dog’s collar that he was at the park, if it hadn’t been for Babs, I wouldn’t have known Ashlyn had been there, too, or that he’d followed her. Unfortunately, the view out my office window didn’t extend that far.

Somehow I had to find out what he said without raising Ashlyn’s suspicions. Quinn was right. She’d be pissed as hell if she found out about the surveillance.

But all that had to wait in line behind a more pressing emergency. City inspectors couldn’t be serious about closing down the theater before the festival. The very idea was asinine. It prompted me to reach out to Haywire. As soon as he emailed me a copy of the inspection report, I looked it over.

“We can slap a bandage on every issue except electrical,” Haywire said over the phone. “With these old buildings and all their sub-panels, there’s no way to isolate the problem without tearing through walls. Best I can tell you is we’ll know more once the fire marshal comes back with his ruling.”

The fire marshal’s ruling was what worried me. Still, after seeing Haywire’s preliminary report, I had faith I could convince the fire marshal to agree to terms that benefitted the town and without putting anyone in jeopardy. On Monday morning, I’d make an appointment and present this plan.

But right now all I wanted to do was get home to Ashlyn. Since it was long past nine on a Friday night, hours since I’d last seen her, it occurred to me her well of inspiration might need to be tapped. My pulse jumped at the thought. Fire dangers and Lucas’s notion that Ashlyn and I should stay glued at the hip were proving to have advantages.

Heavy rain turned a ten minute drive into twenty, and soon I was home. I didn’t like how anxious I felt. Having someone to come home to wasn’t a feeling I was accustomed to. Neither was I accustomed to looking forward to it.

The minute I opened the door leading from the garage, the sound of Eddie Vedder on the sound system greeted me.

I followed the trail of Ashlyn.

Keys left on a console table. Her purse dangled from a door knob. A hair tie with a few strands of hair still stuck to it had fallen to the floor. Off to the side, in the living room, I glimpsed my beanbag. The stack of scripts she’d kept in her bedroom had toppled over beside it.

She might’ve left her apartment, but the chaos of it followed. Oddly, I wasn’t irritated by the mess.

When I found her, she was standing at the kitchen island, hips swaying to the rhythm of the music as she sipped from a glass of white wine, adding toppings to a homemade pizza. Suddenly she stopped, reached over, and typed a few lines on her open computer. Then went right back to the pizza. I stood back and watched, thinking of all the ways I could use that island—ones that maybe included food, but had nothing to do with cooking.

Sensing my presence, Ashlyn looked up. When she saw me, she smiled. “Hey,” she said. “I kinda made myself at home. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No,” I replied, my voice sounding thick, hoarse.

“Basil, or no?”

I cleared my throat. “No.”

She added some to only half the pizza. That done, Ashlyn turned to slide the pan into the oven, giving me a nice look at her ass in the tennis skirt she wore. Then she stepped over to the fridge, reached for a beer, opened it, and held it out to me.

All at once, fifty years of nights just like this flashed before my eyes—of coming home from a long day and finding her cooking, or working, or daydreaming. Of shared dinners and kids doing homework at the kitchen table.

I’d thought coming here, to Phair—having this secluded space, this peace—was all I’d ever need.

That was before Ashlyn came to town.

The one person I could never have was the only one who could set me free. But the cost of freedom was more than I could spare. I’d never jeopardize Ashlyn’s safety for anything. Thanks to Michael contributing half my DNA, being emotionally involved was too risky. I’d already proven that to myself, once with my own father and once with Pritchard.

Her smile faded. “Noah? What’s wrong?”

I raked fingers through my hair with one hand and sat the bottle down on the counter. “Everything’s a mess, Wheels.”

“I know, but don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.”

She thought I meant the kitchen. I walked around the island, then wrapped my arms around her waist as she put dishes into the sink. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Do you mean the festival set-back?” She turned her head to look at me over her shoulder. “I assume Babs told you.”

My action, going to her the way I had, holding her in my arms, had been natural. Without thought. But it was also too intimate a gesture—what a husband would do. So I released her. “I talked to Haywire—the city’s electrical engineer—he says the fire danger is the sticking point. I’ll take care of it Monday.”

She turned to face me. “You sound confident.”

“Haven’t found a problem yet I couldn’t fix.”

Thunder cracked, rattling the windows. Ashlyn jumped. She’d never liked storms.

I stepped toward her again, my instinct to protect her strong, but instead of taking her in my arms like I wanted, my hand came up to caress her cheek. I couldn’t
not
touch her. Not when all I wanted to do was hold her until the storm passed. But that would only send the wrong message.

“Quinn is coming for the festival,” I said. Even though I’d asked him not to tell her, I’d grasped at anything that would put emotional distance between us.

Ashlyn’s brow wrinkled. “Quinn? Why?”

Rather than confess to spilling her secret to her brother, or spilling mine about Pritchard’s surveillance, I took another angle. Something I was sure wasn’t a lie. “He wants to see your play.”

“Why didn’t he tell me that when we talked?”

I shrugged. “Guess he wanted it to be a surprise. Or I don’t know, maybe he decided
after
you talked.”

She let out a slow breath. Our eyes met. “That means he’ll be staying here.”

I nodded.

“So…we pretend like nothing’s happened between us?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

For a split second, her shoulders slumped. “No, I guess not.” Her spine stiffened, and she turned to the dishes.

I hated that I hurt her. But what did she expect? We’d painted no illusions this would be permanent.

Ashlyn scraped leftover vegetables from the cutting board and washed them down the disposal. “It would be stupid to ruin a sixteen-year friendship on my account,” she added.

I reached for my beer and took another drink. “What do you want from me, Wheels?”

“Nothing, Noah.”

She dropped a knife into the sink with a thunk, telling me
nothing
was definitely
something
.

“I knew this was a mistake,” she said. “What am I even doing here?”

“The theater is a death trap. The play isn’t finished, and you staying here is what Lucas wanted.” Did I need to remind her she was fighting for a spot on Broadway, not to mention a whole lot of money in the form of her grandmother’s legacy? Of course I couldn’t say the one thing I wanted to, the one thing that mattered most.
You’re here because I want you here.

“What if I told you the play’s finished?” she said. “That I emailed the final draft to Lucas two hours ago? What would you say to that?”

I took another pull on my beer. “Writers aren’t done until the show’s had its run.”

Chapter Seventeen

Ashlyn

Of all the words to come back and bite me, I never thought it’d be those.

I tossed the dish cloth in the sink, closed the screen on my computer, and without making eye contact with Noah, proceeded toward the sun porch.

“Where are you going?” he asked. “Smells like the pizza will be ready in a few minutes.”

I wasn’t hungry anymore. And I didn’t owe him answers. Without turning back, I kept on going.

“Ashlyn,” he called. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. When even that didn’t get a reaction, Noah moved. He bolted in front of me, blocking my path. “Don’t walk away from me.”

That day in the stairwell flashed through my mind. Noah grabbing me from behind, my shoulder smacking against the door frame, how he’d looked, thinking he’d hurt me.

“Why, Noah? Why shouldn’t I walk away? After all, you always are.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You had the same reaction that day in the stairwell, after our first improvisation. I thought it was because of your father and his abusive tendencies. How you think you might turn into him.”

“You don’t know anything about that, Ashlyn.”

“We’ve known each other a long time, Noah. No one had to say anything for me to know. Funny thing is, I’ve just realized it’s not about him. It’s all about control. You can walk away from me, but I can’t walk away from you.”

“It’s about common courtesy, Wheels. Can we not simply share a meal together after you went to the trouble?”

I stepped around him, walking out onto the porch. Catching up to me, he reached for my arm, his touch gentler than it had been that day in the stairwell. “Ash.”

“You have to control every situation.”

Noah shook his head in slow denial.

Could he not see what he was doing to me? That my heart broke a little more each time he pushed me away? I still couldn’t look at him. “You use Quinn as a barrier between us. He’s your excuse when you need distance.”

“If that’s what you think, I don’t see it.” His hands flew to my cheeks, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I need distance because I can’t tell what’s real between us anymore. Are you Ashlyn or Caroline? Am I supposed to be Andy, or Noah?”

My heart constricted like it had been crushed in a compactor. My throat closed up. I struggled to speak. “After today, in your office, you can honestly say that to me? That you don’t know what’s real?”

If only we would’ve stuck to the script during those times we acted out possible scenes—kept our time together strictly about Andy Rich and Caroline, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But no, from the first time we made love, he’d insisted that it be between us, not them. And he had the nerve to say he didn’t know what was real. Well, maybe it was time I told him. Put it all out there. After all, holding it in wouldn’t be playing fair.

“I love you.” I said. “That’s what’s real. And I don’t know what happens next, but I don’t have to. I just need to know you’re willing to work it out because I know you feel something for me, too.”

Jaw tense, Noah searched my eyes, and in his, I saw confirmation. He really did love me, too.

“Tell me you love me, Noah.”

The tension in his jaw slowly softened. That’s when he stepped forward and kissed me, languid and sweet. It was a direct contradiction to the pent-up edge I felt in his body, further proof that he wasn’t his father, that he’d mastered control of his physical actions. And once again, this kiss was different than the others. It wasn’t about possessing, or lust, or even comfort. It was about giving me what he thought I needed.

As much as I wanted to lose myself to him, to follow the lead of my natural instincts and his, I couldn’t. Not when it would make the pain of parting that much more unbearable. And not when he was trying to say with his body what he struggled to say with words.

If only I didn’t
need
the words.

I stroked his hair. Wrenched my mouth away. Then rested my forehead against his. “Tell me you love me,” I breathed.

“You need this play to be a success as much as I do,” he said. “The only way that happens is if we work together.”

“Tell me, Noah.” Why wouldn’t he just say it?

Thunder rolled. Lightning illuminated a night sky. I swallowed the knot in my throat. Our eyes met, and for a second I saw everything he’d struggled to suppress. The expression he wore was the exact same expression he’d had that day in Central Park.

He loved me.

There, in that look, was proof of what I’d somehow always known.

Hope surged inside me. The daunting obstacles that stood between me and Broadway, my inheritance, and saving the town, suddenly felt achievable. All Noah had to do now was say those three small words and I’d be his forever.

“Say it,” I said, breathless.

A flash of lightning hit its mark nearby. Noah remained silent. Thunder cracked, right along with my heart. Tears welled, but like a heavy cloud couldn’t stop the fall of rain, I couldn’t choke back my pain.

Noah’s hand went to my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Ashlyn.”

The realization he wasn’t going to say it hit me like a punch in the gut, knocking out my wind, leaving me hollow and broken.

He dropped his hand, gazed at me for another long moment. His lips went tight. His face harsh. Then he turned his ramrod-straight back to me.

And walked away.

Leaving me alone, just like I knew he would but had hoped with everything inside me he wouldn’t. A chill that felt a whole lot like regret settled in the air. A blast of wind from the north gusted, taking down a limb from a hundred-year oak. It snapped then tore, and when the lightning illuminated the sky again, it revealed the tree’s insides as shredded as my own. But the limb continued to hang by a thread, until finally it crashed to the ground.

Was that what I’d been doing all these years? Hanging on to that shred of hope? Blaming my inability to love and to trust on Kyle Pritchard, when it really all hinged on the fact that whoever I was with wasn’t Noah?

“What the hell’s going on here?”

I whipped my head around to see my brother standing in the doorway.

Surprised, Noah looked up the same time as me. Then he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Q, what’re you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until—”

“I didn’t trust the mail.” Quinn tossed what looked to be a thumb drive at Noah, who caught it with one hand. “Never thought it’d be you I couldn’t trust.”

Thunder rattled the windows of the enclosed sun porch again. The lights flickered off, then on. Chill bumps rose on my spine. “What’s that?” I asked, looking from Noah, to Quinn.

A vein in Quinn’s jaw throbbed. “It’s Noah’s grand plan to get Kyle Pritchard out of your life for good. Didn’t he tell you about it? Guess he’s good at keeping secrets from both of us.”

Wait—what? Noah had a plan about Kyle? He’d gone behind my back and colluded with my brother? Trying to keep myself from doubling over in pain and shock, I wrapped my arms around my waist. My eyes remained on Quinn, who kept his gaze on Noah. Finally, I managed to get words out. “What do you know about Kyle Pritchard?”

“Ashlyn, I can explain,” Noah said.

“On the subject of Pritchard, anyway,” Quinn said. “He told me all I needed to know.”

I’d been so sure I could trust Noah, especially with this, of all things. Hurt and betrayal washed over me at once and kept me from breaking down. I held my hand out to Noah. “Give me the thumb drive.”

“Could you give us a minute, Quinn?” Noah said.

“No,” I said, answering for my brother. “What’s on the flash drive?”

“Surveillance.” Quinn glanced at Noah. “I told you she’d be pissed.”

My gaze snapped to Quinn’s. “Oh, just shut up. Forgive me if I can’t possibly believe you were an innocent lackey.”

I walked over to Noah and snatched the device from his hand.

The fingers of his other hand moved to my waist. “We’re gonna talk about this, Ash.”

“Oh,
now
you want to talk,” I spat out, pain fueling my anger. “I don’t think so. You saw me at Kyle’s that day, didn’t you?”

Noah’s level gaze didn’t back down from mine as more tears spilled down my cheeks.

“All this time I was so worried about you being afraid you’d turn into your father. Until now, I never realized how much you’d turned into mine.” I gathered all the bravado I could muster and straightened to my full height. “Your part in this play is over, Noah. On behalf of the citizens of Phair and The Marshall Theater, thanks for taking one for the team. How does it feel to be right? There really is no problem you can’t fix.”