I knew it, but still. Hearing Noah confirm it hits like a slap on the butt with a wet dish towel.
“How on earth—” I’m not sure that’s the right question. “When did you—” That’s not right, either.
“What the fuck, Noah?”
My cousin regards me with a stone-faced expression. “After I provided Luke with his father’s contact information, I became concerned that Luke had decided not to meet him. That he’d throw in the towel after all these years, and that would be…unfortunate.”
“Well here’s a newsflash for you, buddy.” I fold my arms, resting them on my oversized belly. “Luke and I split up. We’re not speaking. So if you think I have some sort of pull with him?—”
“I’m aware,” he says softly. “And you do.”
I glare at my cousin. “What game are you playing here, Noah?”
“It’s not a game.” His icy blue gaze locks on my face. “If you had any idea how not a game this is?—”
“Then why don’t you fill me in? Enlighten me, Noah, instead of skulking around like some sort of all-knowing phantom.”
He looks mildly amused by that view of himself. “Tell me something, Hazel. That day in the grocery store when you dropped two-hundred dollars on the floor and lied to Kelsie Ames that it fell out of her purse—lied to the cashier, Joan Salander as well—why did you do that?”
My jaw hinges open. “How did you?—”
“I’m an all-knowing phantom, remember?” Leaning back on the doorframe, he crosses his arms to match my stance. “Answer the question, Hazel.”
Jesus Christ. This took a weird turn.
“Okay, setting aside the fact that it’s creepy as hell you not only know that, but know the names of random residents when you haven’t lived in this town since you were a teenager…” I pause, and he gives me the universal gesture for hurry the hell up. “I did it because it was the right thing to do. I saw someone struggling. Someone who needed help I was in a unique position to offer.”
“With the bonus of sparing her dignity by pretending she dropped the money. Even though everyone standing there knew otherwise.”
“What is your point?”
Noah stares into my eyes. “Good and bad are rarely black and white. Shades of gray make up much of our moral code. Sometimes a lie is a kindness. Honorable, even.”
There’s an odd little roar in my ears. I don’t understand what’s happening here. “Why are you talking in riddles? And what does this have to do with Luke’s father?”
“Let me ask you one more thing, Hazel.” He doesn’t wait for me to say I’m not in the mood to play twenty questions. “Why did you turn your father in?”
“Because he broke the law.”
His face says that’s not the answer he wanted. “Did you randomly stumble over the discrepancies that ultimately led to his conviction?” he asks slowly. “Or did something inside you say to go looking?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Just humor me, Hazel. Has no one ever asked you this?”
Oddly enough, they haven’t. “I went looking. I defended my dad from the start, but I began to suspect his version of the story wasn’t the truth. That my grandfather never intended for Dad to inherit all the land and develop it.”
“What else?”
Why is he goading me like this?
And why am I spitting out answers like Noah’s my creepy-ass therapist? “It broke my heart, seeing the impact Dad’s actions had on the rest of you. All the cousins—you, Jake, Lucy, all of you—you’re good, honest people, and I saw how much everyone was hurting.”
“I see,” Noah says. “So your gut told you something was off about your dad. Empathy pushed you to do the right thing.”
I start to reply, but he’s not done yet.
“And just now, with Luke’s father—your gut told you quickly he’s a smarmy, self-important douche-canoe who abandoned his own children to get famous for tending other people’s kids.”
