Page 27

“Yeah, we met at the pool,” she replies. Quinn steps up beside Noah, and he makes room for her, gaze trained on her face.

I wait in silence for Noah to respond, studying the pair while I do. They’re a couple you’d never guess would fit, yet they do. Noah’s hard muscles and Quinn’s robust curves provide a perfect yin and yang. His auburn hair and her pink strands, darker from her shower, also fit. Their height isn’t far off, either—Noah is only a few inches taller than her.

Quinn looks between us, her shoulders tensing when she notes Noah’s abrasive stance and the way he’s white-knuckling the tray.

“Wait…” Her eyes narrow at Noah. “Do you know Beck?”

The silence is deafening; not even a bird or a bug makes a sound. Noah swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His lips part, and the way he refuses to look at me should hurt, but to be honest, I think I’m numb.

I don’t know how I expected this morning to go, but everything inside me, all the work I’ve done to get where I am today, feels as if it’s been shaken by a nine-point-five earthquake. And it’s all because Noah Ashcroft is here with his wife—who I find not only kind but also attractive—and they’re both at a retreat where I’m supposed to be their mentor and help their marriage. To reconnect them in a way I had once wished Noah and I could.

It’s a mindfuck, but I can’t move. It’s like my body is stuck in molasses.

“Beck.” Quinn’s tone is harsher now. “Do you know my husband?”

“Yes.”

The one-word answer slips out easily. There’s no point in lying. If I was going to walk away from Noah without Quinn ever finding out about our past or without Noah even knowing I was here, I wouldn’t have come to their door this morning. I would have told Hazel I quit or that I couldn’t work this retreat. Yet I didn’t do any of that.

“Okay, and how do you know each other? Did you meet at the gym or something?” Quinn crosses her arms over her chest, shifting her gaze to her husband. “Tell me, Noah.”

For a moment, I think he’s not going to answer, that he’s just going to stand there like a stone wall. But then he replies in a mutter, “We didn’t meet at the gym.”

“Then how?” Quinn pleads. “Please tell me, because I don’t want to stand out here guessing.”

Noah still grips the breakfast tray, but his stance is no longer combative. His muscles continue to strain, but it seems to be from fear and embarrassment instead.

A part of me wants to answer for him, but it’s obvious that Quinn doesn’t know who I am, so I’m guessing he’s never mentioned our relationship to her. I should be sad about it, but it makes sense. The only people who know about my past with Noah are my parents, Hazel, my therapist, and mentors from my early days at retreats. And many don’t even know his name, just that a man who broke my heart exists in the world and plays hockey.

“Noah?”

Quinn’s desperate tone finally breaks him. “We went to school together,” he says.

“You went to U of M?” she asks me. “But we never met.”

“No, Sunshine,” Noah answers before I can, his endearment for her filled with what sounds like regret. “Boarding school.”

There’s a pause of silence as Quinn furrows her brow. A second later, recognition dawns on her face, like she’s just pulled a file from a long-forgotten drawer.

“He’s your ex?” she asks, blinking.

I was wrong; I guess she does know about me. But her info is incorrect, and I can’t stop the old anger I thought I’d long extinguished that ignites within me.

“Not an ex,” I interject before Noah can speak.

My statement makes him look at me, his lips pressed together and anger back in his posture. “Beck—”

“No.”

“No?” he parrots.

I let out a humorless laugh. “In order to be an ex, you’d need to be dating. And we didn’t date, did we, Noah?” My words are laced with fire, blue flames aimed directly into the heart of the man in front of me.

“This is ridiculous,” he huffs.

“You’re right. You’re ridiculous.”

Noah steps toward me as if he wants to punch me in the face, but he’s still holding the damn tray of now cold food.