~ Seventeen ~

Noah

I got off the phone with Kevin and contemplated rolling over and going back to sleep. There really didn't seem to be much f.u.c.king point to getting out of bed, not today. The weight of the impending criminal charges against me had become too much for me to fight against, at least on my own. I needed a boost and nothing was working.

Deep down, I needed Laurel.

But I could only whisper that to myself, and the fabric of my pillowcase, as I lay in bed and let the day swing by without me. Kevin had called because of the shows I had missed the past couple nights. He pretended he wasn't worried, just gave me some s.h.i.t about shacking up with Laurel, but then again that was his way. He knew more than he said, and he cared too d.a.m.n much.

My numbness frightened me, but I tried to tell myself it was just temporary. It was normal to feel outweighed by something as huge as what was going on right now. I wouldn't be here forever; I would get up.

Just not today. Not right now.

The silence of my empty house seemed to tell tales of its own, taunting my anxious brain as I lay in bed, too tired to escape them. Whispering that it was always supposed to be this way, somehow. Like deep down, I knew one day, all the rough edges I had tried so hard to sand off would end up cutting my jugular. The demons I had hog-tied would get free and catch up to me. Maybe that's why I was here alone, now, in a small empty house. Maybe that was why I was the only member left in my band who hadn't settled down and found at least a steady, long-time girlfriend to weather the storms with. Jeff even had a couple of kids, now. As rough as it was, somehow they had made it work, and found a partner even within the chaos of the rock star life.

But not me. It was like I was off the rhythm of things in my personal life, always late or early to the party. Whatever success I found in my career, I found the same failure in the simple human connections I tried to establish. The wrong women got close; the right ones slipped through my fingers, or couldn't see me to begin with.

Some pragmatic, probably nihilistic part of me was glad I was alone to go through this. The thought of having a wife... maybe a wife like Laurel... having to sit back and watch me endure the misery that was sure to be my trial and conviction, and then wait for me while I serve out a prison sentence, it made me sick to my stomach. The thought that I could so thoroughly destroy the life of someone I loved just by proximity... it horrified me.

Suddenly all my isolation had this paranoid look of being self-imposed. Had I really created some self-fulfilling prophecy, ending up alone in this empty house because I expected to be? Was I afraid to get close because I couldn't take the weight, the power, of influencing their life? Maybe that's why I liked performing; it was a place I felt comfortable taking that power. It was power I enjoyed wielding, power I was good at wielding. On stage, looking out at a wave of people, some of whom were bigger and stronger than I would ever be, and yet they're listening to me, obeying me even-I loved it. I belonged there. I knew how to translate that power into something positive for people's lives through my music.

But when it came to power over just one person... when it came to knowing I held someone's delicate heart in my hands... I didn't feel powerful at all. I felt terrified. Now, with a prison sentence looming over my head, that terror was justified. If I had ever let any of my past girlfriends close-as terrible as some of them were-now, they'd be going through a world of hurt with me. I was right to push them away.

The terrifying thing was, I wasn't sure I could do the same to Laurel. The idea of not having her around was indescribable.

Wet tears. .h.i.t the pillowcase under my face. The whole world felt as small as my room.

Time melted away for a while, until the quiet was broken by the ringing of my phone. I almost ignored it, but after a few indecisive seconds, I finally rolled over to grab it from my bedside table.

Laurel's beautiful face was staring back at me from my phone screen. f.u.c.k... Laurel. I missed her warmth so much. I hadn't even thought about how I was going to break this news to her. Part of me worried she wouldn't even care... but the deeper part of me knew she would. And that was the part that was afraid I was about to break her heart.

Really, it would almost be better if she didn't give a s.h.i.t about me. Then I wouldn't have to feel guilty for that too, at least, and she could go on about her life. Of all the times to find myself hopelessly attached to a woman, why did it have to be now, when everything was falling apart? I didn't want to take Laurel down with me.

The doubt in my mind almost kept me from answering her call. But I felt helpless. I wanted to hear her voice. "Hey," I said.

"Hey, Noah," she replied. "I'm sorry I haven't called in a..."

"No, no, don't apologize. It's fine. You have a life."

There was a heavy pause. "You sound really down. What's wrong?"

My face scrunched up as tears threatened again. Of course she could hear it, this flawless woman. But I never wanted her to see me weak. "It's nothing. I didn't sleep well. Where are you? I want to see you."

"I-I want to see you too," she said. Wherever she was calling from, it was noisy and scattered in the background. "Are you busy right now?"

"Never too busy for you, sugar."

Her voice sounded much sadder when it came back on the line. A flash of worry lit up in my brain. "Can you meet me at that beach you took me to in, like, half an hour?"

I glanced at the clock at my bedside table. It was already well into evening; I hadn't even had a meal yet today. "Yeah, sure. Is everything okay with you?"

"Yeah, just... I'll tell you when I see you. Half an hour?"

"I'll see you there."

Emotions battled in my brain, both relief and concern, unable to decide which was more accurate. Really, my brain was just too tired to give too much of a f.u.c.k. Whatever it was, it couldn't be worse than the news I'd already gotten, and at least I could finally hold Laurel in my arms again. Our brief time apart felt like it had been much longer.

It only took me a few minutes to get dressed and brush my teeth. The guy looking back at me from the mirror was a little worse for wear, and it was the first time I remember actually seeing signs of stress on myself. I ran a comb through my hair and splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would tighten things up and help the dark circles under my eyes.

A light rain began to fall on the drive over, and a bunch of idiot tourists held up part of the road when they wheeled off to the side to get a glimpse of some deer tromping through the neighborhood. By the time I pulled my truck up to the gravel lot near the small little beach I had taken her to before, Laurel was already there, her car parked haphazardly. I left my truck next to it and tromped down the small slope toward the river.

Laurel sat on the giant piece of driftwood, throwing tiny rocks into the water. When she heard my footsteps approaching, she leapt to her feet and turned to face me. Her face looked puffy, like she had been crying not too long ago, but she still looked beautiful as ever, wearing the sweatshirt I had given her before. Between her swollen eyes and my sleepless circles, we must have looked like quite the pair, if anyone was watching.

My heart froze when she hesitated. But it was only a second or two, and then she was racing up to me, throwing herself into my arms. Her hair and sweatshirt were wet from the rain, and cold pressed up against my skin, but it didn't stop me from lifting her off her feet and holding her as tightly as I could as she buried her face against the crook of my neck. Warmth and sweet relief rolled down my body and suddenly my aches and fears became a distant memory.

"I can't believe how much I missed you," she said into my skin.

I inhaled deeply, my nerves instantly soothed by her words. "f.u.c.k, I missed you too, sugar. I missed your smell."

She pulled back from my neck and took my face in her hands. Her kiss was sweet and powerful, a message without words. I bent my forehead against hers when it was over.

We stood there holding each other and listening to the river until I finally lowered her feet to the ground. She kept her body against mine as I stroked her hair from her face.

"Noah, I have to talk to you about something, and I have to do it before I lose my nerve." Laurel looked up in my face with a determined brightness in her eyes, shifting from foot to foot like she was standing on hot coals. She grasped at my jacket almost unconsciously.

"You can talk to me about anything," I said, cupping her cheek in my hand. "What is it?"

Laurel lowered her gaze for just a moment and took a few deep breaths. Then she met my eyes again. "I have something for you." From out of her pocket came her hand, and in it was a small, black, plastic rectangle. The lid of the USB drive had been secured with bright red tape. When I didn't react, she lifted one of my big hands in her tiny ones and placed it in my palm, then closed my fingers over it tightly.

"What is this?" I asked.

"It's your proof," said Laurel, blinking up at me through the light rain.

"It's... what?" My words came out in one great exhale.

"I found your proof, Noah. Proof about the knife, it's on that drive. It's a video. It proves you acted in defense of Quinn. You... you don't have to go to prison," she said. Her words came in short spurts, like she was holding back tears.

The closed fist holding the drive trembled. Was this possible? Laurel-could she have saved me?

My knees felt weak. I gripped onto her shoulder. Suddenly everything felt far-away and dreamlike, and for half a second I expected to wake up. "Laurel, what... I don't understand....is this real?"

"It's real," she said, but something fearful was in her teary smile. "It's real, Noah, all you have to do is show the DA and this will be over. This is where I had to go, and what I've been working on. I've been hunting this down."

Confusion coursed through my mind. So many questions tried to force their way out of my mouth. "I can't even... this can't be real. What do you mean, you've been hunting this down? Why?"

"Noah," said Laurel. Tears had begun to run down her cheeks. She put both hands on my shoulders to make sure I was looking at her. "Noah, I have to tell you something else, please. Just hear me out, okay?"

I was already too stunned to respond.

"I found the proof because I was looking for it, Noah. I'm not..." She looked down at her feet and cursed under her breath. "Noah, I'm a journalist. I'm a writer for Slipstream."

The sound of the river got louder in my ears. I could feel the closed fist over the hard drive getting clammy.

"When I said I was here for my job, it was true. I came here to find you-to find out what happened at the festival. I came here for a story. But... but something happened..." Her eyes darted around. "I came here to find out why that man died. I expected you were just going to be some a.s.shole guy who finally lost touch with reality, but... that's not... that's not what you are. That's never been who you are."

Now the sound of the river was competing with the pounding of my own heart. Embarra.s.sment and rage started to bubble up under the skin at my neck, flushing my face with heat. I had to close my eyes; I had to look away from Laurel. "So you... This was all a trick?"

"No," she said firmly. "This was not a f.u.c.king trick, Noah. None of this was a trick."

"But you didn't come here to find me because you gave a s.h.i.t about me. You came here to find me to use me for your story," I said, pieces coming together in my mind. "Everything you did was just... was just to get close to me?" Tears stung my eyes and blurred the river rocks at my feet into a mess of gray-black splotches.

"Noah, I never lied to you about who I am. None of the stories we shared, none of the memories I told you or the things I shared about myself, were a lie. The only thing I kept from you was what my job was." She rubbed her face. "I know that doesn't make it better. I don't f.u.c.king deserve your forgiveness. You are the realest man I've ever met in my life, and you have to know that the Laurel you've seen is really me, even if I'm just another bulls.h.i.t poser on your list. I deserve to be there."

My heart was screaming at me, cursing, calling me a fool. Of course Laurel didn't give a s.h.i.t about me. Of course the only single positive thing in my pathetic f.u.c.king life was an enormous joke, another thing that pretended to be real but wasn't.

When I finally found the strength to look up at her, Laurel's face was a mask of pain and shame, her eyes wide, waiting for me to seal her fate.

"I can't believe you did this to me," I said. A tear trailed down my face, disappearing into my beard.

Laurel dropped her gaze and cried a little, then looked back up at me. "I know. I'm sorry. But I'm not going to do this to you... not anymore." She gestured limply toward my clenched fist that held the hard drive.

I frowned at it, and then back at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She waved again at my fist. "I'm not writing my story. That video is yours to save yourself. I'm going to tell my editors I couldn't find anything, and you're going to release this for yourself on your terms. No one will know I was here. You'll be safe. So will Kevin and the club." She licked her lips and looked at the river, then back at me. "I didn't expect this to happen, Noah. I didn't expect to find... you. And I'm not going to betray you like everyone else." A pause. "Nothing would ever make me."

Part of the panic in my mind died, hearing her words. "Is that right? Miss Ambition, and you expect me to believe you're giving up this career move for me?"

Laurel nodded. "I promise," she said. "No one else has anything, and they never will. I'll leave town, and you can forget that any of this ever happened..." Her voice trailed off at the end of her sentence, too overcome to finish.

Seeing her standing there, cold and crying, it amazed me how strong the urge still was to take her in my arms and make it all go away. I never wanted to see Laurel like this. But her confession changed everything. What moments were real, now? Had she faked our pa.s.sion, our connection? Did she really show me her true self with those stories from her younger days, or did she research those, too?

Yet part of my heart, it couldn't keep the bitterness alive, and laughed at me that I knew the truth-I knew the Laurel that I had held in my arms, and in my bed, was really her.

But that didn't mean I could forgive her for this. She was the last ray of sunshine in my world, and now she was dashed against the cold dark of the storm clouds like everything else.

Suddenly the rage was just too much to take. I looked at Laurel for a few moments, watching her eyes as they begged me silently to answer her. But I didn't. I whirled without a word and stalked up the beachfront until I was in my truck.

As soon as it roared to life, I took off for the highway, leaving Laurel behind me.

~ Eighteen ~

Laurel

After Noah left me on the beach, I spent two days in the hotel bed, only getting up to answer the door for room service or make use of the facilities. I slept so hard the first day, I didn't bother to plug in my phone. When it finally came back to life on the second, there was a giant list of messages from Steve, demanding I explain the e-mail I had sent him before I met with Noah. The messages grew less angry and more worried as the hours had pa.s.sed, until finally the last one said, Do not kill yourself in a tacky Seattle hotel. That's so grunge and you're better than that.

I texted him to tell him I was fine, but to leave me alone another day. After making d.a.m.n sure I didn't have a single text or missed call from Noah-which, of course, I didn't-I shut the phone off again and left it ignored on the bedside table.

Hours pa.s.sed blankly as I stared at the TV, barely even caring enough to change the channel when something s.h.i.t came on the air. The only thing I cared to see was news that Noah had released the video and that everything would be okay for him. It was the only good thing that was going to come out of this garbage fire of a life decision I had made.

I fell in and out of sleep, and picked at the room service food when I got hungry. The minibar was toast. I was determined to spend every last dime cleared by the magazine for my expense account before they fired me for losing this story.

My dreams were of Noah. I could smell him on the beach as clear as day. I could feel the firm contours of his muscles under the palm of my hands, and his soft lips on mine.

After two days of depressed wallowing, I found the strength to drag myself to the shower and clean up the hotel room. On my invitation, Steve met me downstairs in the hotel lobby for breakfast at the complimentary buffet. We grabbed a table in the corner, away from the smattering of tourist families and old timers traveling cross-country who got up with the sun.

Steve looked more worried than mad as he shook salt and pepper over his eggs and said my name with a sigh. "Are you all right? You look like h.e.l.l."

"I'll live," I said, even though I felt exactly the opposite of that. "But you wanted to talk about the email, so let's talk."

"Let's talk about what's going on with you, first. What the h.e.l.l?"

"Look, you were right," I said, leaning back in my chair. I couldn't look at him as I shook my head. "You were right. I was... I am in love with Noah. I f.u.c.ked up and I got too close."

The snarky reply I braced for didn't come. Steve only watched me with curious, sort of sad eyes. "I was just trying to give you s.h.i.t. I didn't mean to make you feel ashamed for having feelings for someone."

Raising a hand, I said, "It's not that. I just want you to understand why I did what I did with the video. Yes, it was a huge loss for both of us and our careers. I know that, and I'm sorry. I don't have any excuse for it." I shrugged and poked at the food on my plate with my fork. "The moment came and I couldn't do it to him. Even if it was going to save him at the same time, I couldn't also exploit him... couldn't unearth and give to the public everything he's tried to keep for himself, just so I could make some tiny gain in my bulls.h.i.t career."

Disappointment was apparent on Steve's expression, but so was something else. His mouth pursed in the corner and he put down his fork. He reached a hand across the table and held it out until I took it. "He didn't take it well when you blew your cover, did he?"

I shook my head. Steve's image began to blur in my eyes. "No. Not that he should have."

Steve squeezed my hand. I used my other to fumble for a napkin and wipe my eyes.

"I just wish you had come to me before you did this, that's all. I thought we were in this together. Maybe together we could have found another way."

"I know," I said. "I'm sorry. It is on the long list of unprofessional behavior that is probably going to end my career once we get home."

"You're just human," said Steve as he squeezed my hand once more and released it. "And even if we didn't get the scoop, you did save an innocent guy from getting sent to prison. That's a good day for any journalist, Laurel."