Chapter 28

Set on Your Lonely Path

THEY LEFT FOR WORKtogether on Monday. Her to the hospital, for her first day back in weeks, and Noah to his office where he had a full day of patients scheduled. It meant taking two cars.

Standing beside her old Toyota, she couldn't believe her eyes. It had fresh paint, new tires, and, thankfully, was free of blood and nasty graffiti. She had nothing to do with its transformation. In fact, it hadn't occurred to her she had no way to work until she was getting ready for bed the night before. But, when she mentioned it, Noah had already taken care of it without her having to ask.

Unable to contain her excitement, she turned her back on her as-good-as-new car and threw herself at him. He caught her with a grunt.

"Do you know how much I love you, Noah Richmond?" she gushed as she hugged him. "Having used up all my PTO and with a rapidly dwindling bank account, I didn't know how I was going to get it fixed. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so very much!"

When he didn't answer, she leaned back and squinted up at him. The morning sun behind him glinted gold off his hair and put his face in shadow.

"You don't have to thank me, Fiona," he said a little tersely.

Had she embarrassed him with her giddy praise?

"Getting the car fixed required only a few phone calls. You've had a lot to deal with lately, and I was happy to take care of it for you."

It couldn't be the money, could it? Still, she offered, "I'll pay you back when I can."

"You most certainly will not!" he growled, clearly offended.

She squeezed him once more then walked to her car, punched in the code on the keypad, and opened the door. If she didn't get going now, she was going to be late. It felt weird being back in uniform, the burgundy polo all the therapists wore, the logo bearing Noah's last name stitched on the sleeve, and her photo ID badge hanging from a lanyard around her neck.

"I won't know how to act, arriving at work alone without my Rossi Security shadow."

He stepped off the curb and moved toward her, stopping a foot away. In line with his aloof behavior of the past few days, it seemed like a mile. He now stood in the building's shade, and she could see the ever-present concern on his handsome face.

Yet, it was she who had reason to worry.

All weekend, he'd been more like his old self—before everything came to a head with Jordan. Engaged, attentive, and affectionate, a stark contrast to his quiet, distant demeanor. Fiona questioned whether she had created it all in her head.

Nighttime was a different story, however. He didn't talk about it, but his dreams persisted, and he got even less sleep than usual.

He never woke her shouting again, but she'd feel the bed shift and roll over in time to see him slip into the bathroom. He emerged minutes later, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, and tiny droplets dotting his bare shoulders from having splashed water on his face.

When she asked him if he was all right, he'd smile and say he was good, but it never reached his eyes like it had even in the midst of their drama.Sometimes he'd returned to bed and hold her tight, but most often he'd stay up, closing the bedroom door behind him when he went elsewhere so he wouldn't disturb her sleep.

He ran his hand down her cheek and brushed back a strand of hair that had already come loose from her ponytail. "Are you sure you're ready to get back to work? It has only been a few days since—"

She didn't make him say it. "I'm rested, and I've missed so much work already."

"That doesn't matter. What does is that you feel ready."

"It will be good to stay busy and get back to regular life, don't you think?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "It's just what the doctor ordered."

Although it was an obvious attempt at a joke, it fell flat, especially when the brief twitch of his lips looked more like a grimace than a smile.

"Have a good first day back," he stated suddenly, before striding across the parking lot to his vehicle.

The entire exchange seemed off to her. The stilted answers, his forced smile, and attempt at humor. It was like one step forward and two steps back.

As she followed his SUV out of the parking lot, Fiona found it ironic that she was the one in therapy, yet Noah seemed more deeply disturbed.

SHE GOT OFF WORK ONtime, but with traffic, she didn't get to Brentwood until after six. Noah had been cooking each night for the past week, but maybe she could convince him to order in since they'd both worked all day. When she let herself into the condo, she immediately tripped over something on the floor next to the door. Lurching forward, she narrowly avoided a face-first collision with the hardwood floor by catching herself on the couch.

When she righted herself and glanced back to see what it was, she sucked in a breath. A large duffel bag and an even larger suitcase sat between the door and the console table. Dread rose within her, along with a wave of nausea.

Noah's footsteps echoed in the hall. When they stopped, she stated the obvious. "You're packed."

"We need to talk, Fiona. Come have a seat."

Were there four words in the English language that prophesied the end of a relationship more than we need to talk? But they didn't really have a relationship. Neither of them had made any promises or exchanged words of love and forever, and, with neither a contract nor a collar, they hadn't moved forward as dom and sub like most committed couples in the BDSM world.

"You're leaving," she said, without budging from the spot where she'd nearly fallen. If she tried to move, nearly would become a sure thing.

"SVI called again," he explained. "They had a surgeon cancel at the last minute with a family emergency. Rather than postpone surgeries, they called out looking for a replacement. Since I was available—"

"Where?" she interrupted.

"Africa, for at least a month."

For longer and much farther away than Central America. And at a greater distance from her. Masking the ache in her chest, she said vaguely, "I'm sure the need is great there."

"It is. This will be my fourth trip." He paused for a moment then repeated, "Come sit."

"No, thank you." She moved in the opposite direction, as if separation would stop the inevitable words she knew in her gut would follow.

"You can stay here until you find a new place."

Of course, why would she stay if he wasn't here? They weren't a couple; she was a job that ended a week ago.

She moved to the table, busying herself by emptying her pockets of a short pencil and a crumpled piece of notebook paper on which she'd jotted patient notes, and laying her purse and keys on the table next to his.

"Fiona, I'd rather not talk to your back."

Too bad. Why should she make this easy for him?

"I'll call my apartment manager and see if he has another unit to rent."

"No. It's not safe there. The break-in proved as much."

She picked up her keys again, and, with a calm she didn't feel, removed his door key from the ring. "I'll be fine. I'll go get my things now."

With her head down, she hurried toward the hall, hoping to escape the excruciating conversation, but he intercepted her.

"You knew you were the first since Claire. I said I'd try but made no promises to do more than that," he said, a rasp to his voice as if this was hard for him. He should be in her shoes.

She pulled her arm free and started walking again, desperate to get away from him before she started crying.

"I don't have more to give you, Fiona," he said, following her.

"I know, which makes me the fool," she whispered on a hitching breath. "I was warned about you the very first day. That's why I refused to be matched with you." Suddenly, she whirled, not caring if he saw how shattered she was. She needed to ask just one thing. "Tell me something. Is being alone, with a revolving door of submissives, better than trying again? I can't understand the pain of losing your family, but can you truly say you wouldn't do it again? You had five years with Claire and two with Leah. If given the chance to do it over again, to cherish every precious second with them, wouldn't you, even if the outcome was the same?"

"You're right. You can't understand the pain of my loss, and I hope to hell you never do."

Staring at him, her heart aching, a tear tracked down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away because more would follow.

"You'll still walk the earth tomorrow, and a year from now, and ten beyond that—at least that is my fervent hope. When that decade has passed, I pray you're still not of the belief that it's better to have never loved and be spared the pain because standing here with my heart breaking, after sharing nine tumultuous weeks with you, the scariest time of my life but also some of the best, I can say you are dead wrong. I've loved and lost, but I'll cherish every second we had and feel profoundly sorry that you won't be able to say the same."

His phone alerted. Cursing vehemently, he pulled it out.

"You need to go," she murmured, her throat tight with emotion and burning with a torrent of tears yet to come.

"Yes. That's my ride. But I don't want to leave it like this."

"Yet you will because you're set on your lonely path." She walked into the bedroom and said as she closed the door, "Goodbye, Noah."

Fiona went one step further. She turned the lock then pressed her ear against the panel, holding her breath while listening for the sounds of him leaving. At a loud bang in the hall, she jumped then let her breath out slowly seconds later when the front door slammed.

She should have packed as quickly as she could and gotten the hell out of there, but she couldn't. Her legs wouldn't function. She slid to the floor and, with her back to the door, cried silent tears until her backside went numb.