Rock Redemption

He was tapping a beat on the steering wheel and smiling at the thought of going home to Kit when his eye was caught by the man and the golden-blond child who’d just stepped onto the crosswalk from the other side. The man was holding the boy’s hand, the boy dragging his feet. It was a familiar scene that Noah had probably witnessed a thousand times over his lifetime, but today, it made nausea churn in his gut, his hands clamping tight on the steering wheel as a haze of red filmed his vision.

Unclipping his seat belt, he began to open the car door, convinced the child needed to be rescued… but then the man said something and the child’s face lit up. Bouncing on his feet now, he spoke excitedly, and then the two were on the other side of the crosswalk and walking away.

Noah’s heart still thumped, his throat dry.

It was only when an impatient horn sounded from behind him that he pulled his door shut and started driving again. He didn’t know where he was going, but it wasn’t home. He felt too fucked-up to go home. Ending up on a sea-facing outlook, he stared at the Pacific Ocean crashing to shore until gray turned to dark and all he could see were the headlights and fading taillights of cars along the Pacific Coast Highway.

Sweat pasted his T-shirt to his skin, his hands still clamped on the steering wheel. Finally peeling them off, he shoved open his door and got out. Nausea cramped his gut again without warning. Bending down instinctively, his hands on his knees, he threw up. There wasn’t much in his stomach, just a bottle of the electrolyte-laden sports water David had given him.

After that, it was just harsh, dry retching that felt as if it went on forever. He was half aware of a phone ringing in the distance, but he couldn’t focus on that, his entire concentration on getting his spasming muscles under control.

It seemed to take forever.

Grabbing a fresh bottle of water from the pack he had in the back, he rinsed out his mouth and threw some water on his face, then stood facing the warm wind until it had dried him off. His phone, when he checked it after getting back in the car, showed him Kit’s name on multiple missed calls and text messages. She had to be worried since he should’ve been home hours ago.

Feeling like a shit, he sent her a text message: I’m fine. Don’t wait up.

He switched off the phone after sending it so she couldn’t call him. He couldn’t talk to Kit right now. He felt filthy, dirty, ugly, just as he’d felt when he’d been a boy the same age as the boy he’d seen on the crosswalk. That wasn’t what had set him off, however. No, he’d finally realized the reason for his insanity—the man’s shirt.

It was the exact same shirt the bastard had worn the day it began.

He hadn’t realized the pattern was burned into his memory, not until today.

After drinking the rest of the water, he threw the empty bottle on the passenger seat and started up the engine.

Once again, he didn’t know where he was going; he just needed to drive. But when he ended up in the parking lot of a strip joint splattered with graffiti, the garish neon lights flashing on his windshield, it wasn’t a surprise. This was where he fit, a place where no one would expect him to be a better man.

He had no right to someone like Kit, no right to touch her, hold her. He’d ruin her. Better he stay in the darkness.

Switching off his engine, he opened the car door.

Chapter 40

Kit had gone from worry to panic to fury in the space of the past few hours. When Noah didn’t make it home by the time he should have, she’d figured he and David must’ve ended up hanging out. She hadn’t started to really worry until he was an hour late. That’s when she’d sent the first text message, to no response.

Feeling fear walk cold fingers up her spine, the memory of the incident with Becca yet fresh in her mind, she’d called David, discovered that Noah had left the gym long ago. She’d tried to be logical, to not panic as she called and messaged him, but had just started thinking she needed to check the hospitals when she received his response.

I’m fine. Don’t wait up.

The cold arrogance of the message stu

So angry she could barely think straight, she put on her ru

The peace of it soothed her, and made every part of her hurt with stabbing pains. Because if Noah had hit a wall at some point today, then things could well be far worse than him just acting like an asshole to her. She might wake to tabloid reports of him getting drunk or breaking up a place... or fucking some random woman.

Anger burned her throat.

Putting down her fork, she dropped her face in her hands and breathed deep.

“Kit.”

Her shoulders grew stiff at that familiar male voice, her emotions caustic. Too furious to look at him, too afraid of what she might see, she forced herself to pick up her fork and eat a bite.

Noah slid onto the bench beside her, moving until his thigh and arm pressed against her own. She smelled sweat, as if he hadn’t showered after the gym, but the rest of it was just Noah. No alcohol, no clinging tobacco smoke, no perfume.

“How mad are you?”

“Depends.” She stared out into the garden. “What did you do?”

“I went to a seedy strip club and sat in the parking lot telling myself that was what I deserved. Not a home, not with you. Just a dirty place I couldn’t ruin with my ugliness, with people who couldn’t give two fucks about me.”

His words made her hurt for him, but she was braced for a blow herself, waiting for him to tell her the rest. Because she’d hit her limit. She’d told him her line in the sand. If he’d crossed it, she wouldn’t be able to forgive him. Not this time.

“I opened the car door to get out,” Noah said, breaking her heart, “and then it hit me what a fucking idiot I was being. I was about to let what that bastard did destroy the best thing in my life. I was about to permanently damage my relationship with a woman who loves me even when I’m a surly, bad-tempered and moody son of a bitch. So I pulled the door shut and hauled ass home.”

He put his hand on the back of her neck, and the touch was oddly tentative for Noah. “So, how long are you going to be mad?”

Relief was a roar of blood through her veins. Not pulling away from his touch because, even with anger lingering inside her, she knew he’d take that as a rejection, she said, “I’ll let you know when I’m not mad anymore.”

He groaned. “Open-ended? That’s cold, Katie.”

Dropping the fork onto her plate, she turned to face him, and then she did what she’d wanted to do since the instant he’d told her he’d shut the car door and come home. She wrapped her arms tight around him. “That’s for coming home,” she said as his own arms wrapped around her so hard she could barely breathe. “The mad is for making me worry and for thinking you couldn’t come back to me just because the demons were awake.”

He shuddered out a breath and then, without prompting, told her what had set him off. “Dumb, huh?”

“No. It just caught you by surprise.” She glared at him. “What’re you going to do the next time something hits you sideways?”

The answer was immediate and so sure she believed it. “Find you.”

“Good.” Pulling back, she looked up into his face. “We need a pool.” She didn’t want to wait six months, wanted Noah to know his place was right here. With her.