Sure, he was done with his recording for the day, but he refused to allow the distraction. If he made nice with neighbor-lady today, she'd expect him to come over for coffee. Be neighborly.
What a load of crap.
Aiden knew what this recording job meant to Noah. He'd worked his butt off to make a name for himself as a narrator. It'd taken years, but now he hadfans. He'd become a commodity, a voice that popular romance authors wanted to hire.
He'd gotten lucky and been awarded a contract—the current audiobook he was narrating—for up-and-coming romance author, Mercy McDane. She loved his voice so much that she'd promised him a three-book contract for her upcoming trilogy. A lucrative contract that would make the hospital bills he'd been languishing under for years disappear. He hadn't actuallysignedthe contract yet. But Ms. McDane had promised it was coming after this production wrapped.
He needed to stay on schedule, ahead of deadline. Which meant he needed zero distractions.Notcrazy neighbor ladies.
"She sounds serious,” Aiden said. Then, “Wait, there's another text coming through."
When Aiden spoke again, Noah heard the hesitation in his voice. "Uh... She says she can outlast you. She says she's done it before, and that it's no use trying to wait her out."
There was a beat of silence, and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Whoever was out there… she knew him.
"What’s her name?" After the sheriff's deputy had refused to help, Noah had thrown the whole thing at Aiden. He'd left it to his assistant to dig up his neighbor's name and phone number.
"Let me check." Noah heard paper shuffling on the other end of the line. "It was like... Jillian?"
"Jilly Tatum?" His new neighbor wasJilly Tatum?
"That's it. Jilly Tatum."
His memory supplied an image of her, almost like a yearbook photo. Elfin nose, a smattering of freckles. Jilly had been a firecracker, her eyes always sparkling. They'd been rivals, so when she looked at him, the sparkle had always been a spark of competition.
Back in high school, she'd had long, blonde hair. But moments ago, Aiden had said she had short hair. He tried to modify his memory-Jilly, but it didn't work.
It hadn't been long after the accident had stolen his sight that the faces in his memory began to get fuzzy. It was almost jarring to get hit with a memory now.
He had a mental picture of Jilly, but Aiden’s image was a complete blank to him. They'd worked together for years and he knew through experience that Aiden was intelligent and quick thinking and hard working. He knew the tenor and inflection of Aiden’s voice. He just didn't know what the man looked like.
Aiden's voice jarred him from his thoughts. "Do you want me to text her back? Or...?"
Or Noah could open the door. The Jilly he'd known in high school never backed down from a challenge. By refusing to open up, he was issuing her a challenge. It was as if he was daring her to wait him out. To keep knocking.
Part of him wanted to know how long she'd stay out there. All night? With her kids in tow?
Even though she lived in Galveston now, Noah's mom made it a point to keep him updated on all the local happenings. He'd tried to tell her he didn't care, but she never believed him. And social media made it too easy for her to stay connected with her Sutter's Hollow friends.
Noah would've remembered if Mom had mentioned Jilly getting married. And Aiden had said her last name was still Tatum, her maiden name. As far as Noah knew, she was single.
So where'd she get the kids?
No. He didn't want to know. Not how long she'd stay out there. Not why she was a mother now.
He wanted her gone.
"I'll touch base with you later," he said to Aiden.
He braced his hands on the desk and stood. He was so distracted by his frustration that he almost walked into the doorframe. It was only the sudden awareness, like a pressure against the skin of his face, that made him freeze mid-step. He brushed his fingers against the wall to assert his orientation, then strode through the door. Down the hall, toward the living room and beyond it, to the front door.
Right now the silence in his head was so full it was almost like white noise.
Was he really going to do this? He hadn't faced anyone from his past—anyone from that night—in eleven years.
He hesitated with his hand on the knob. Before he could think better of it, he turned the knob and opened the door.
There was an audible gasp from somewhere to his left. Air moved as if one of the bodies standing on the stoop had shifted. Away from him?
