“No!” he shouted. “Mops, you’re not supposed to take the stairs!”
He broke free of Noah’s grip—or maybe Noah let go—and the next thing he was crouching in front of Mopsy, scooping her into his arms. “Sweetheart, you’ll hurt your legs. You’re such a silly girl.”
But Mopsy wasn’t listening; her dark gaze was fixed on Noah, her teeth bared, and she was still growling, still trying to defend him. Close to tears, Toby turned to tell Noah to fuck off, but when he saw the expression on the ex-biker’s face, he almost dropped Mopsy. It was beyond sadness. Beyond pain. The look of a wounded animal frantically fighting off death. He’d seen it before when he was twenty-one, and a baby kangaroo got hit by the car in front of him. He'd pulled over to see what had happened, and the joey, missing a leg and covered in blood, had almost collided with him. He’d looked down, and the pain burning in its eyes had ripped through the heart of him. He still had nightmares about it. And now it was happening again; only it was a human face filled with agony.
“Noah,” he heard himself say. “What happened?”
A lone tear fell onto Noah’s cheek, his eyes never moving from Mopsy as she continued to growl her weary, determined growl. “Nikki lost the baby.”
Terror ran through Toby like a switchblade. He sank to his heels, still holding Mopsy.
“Fourth in two years,” Noah said, his lips barely moving. “I’m never gonna be a dad. Nikki’s never gonna be a mum. I don’t know what to fucking do. I’d go back to jail to make it stop, but there’s nothing I can fucking do.”
Toby’s stomach heaved. He closed his eyes and tried to force the sick, churning feeling down. “I’m so fucking sorry, mate.”
A rough tongue moved across his cheek, Mopsy licking his face. Toby’s eyes burned, and he pressed his face into her soft, golden fur.
How long they stayed like that; him hugging Mopsy as Noah stared, Toby would never know. But when he finally lifted his face, the man in front of him was more like the one he’d met at Silver Daughters. Quiet. Patient. Kind.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”
“S’kay,” Noah mumbled, gaze still locked on Mopsy. “Not your fault.”
Toby felt a surge of something close to hope, and with the feeling he was taking his life right into his hands, he decided to try to explain.
“Tabby and I hooked up ages ago. My first time was with her. The night of Sam and Nicole’s birthday party. You were around. You might not have known it was me in her room, but it was.”
Noah said nothing, but Toby told himself he’d leave if he didn’t want to listen, and kept going.
“I wouldn’t have made a move; she came onto me. And you’re right, I have been in love with her forever, but when she said she wanted to… when it happened, I thought it was because we would give it a shot, but you were right again. She didn’t see me that way. To her, it was just something to do. It was just a game. So, I left. Figured I could try to find some way to make her see me as something more and, at the very least, stop embarrassing myself around her.”
Powerful emotions were warring across Noah’s broad face. He opened his mouth and closed it again, and Toby guessed—crazily— that he wanted to say something supportive.
He forced himself to keep going. “I was a simp and a pussy, and I paid Tabby to give me a tattoo, hoping that if I spent time with her, she’d see I changed. And maybe I’d change her mind about me. And we have been hooking up since, and I’ve been paying for her presents, but I swear to you, with everything I have, it’s been good, Noah. It’s been fucking good and above board the whole way, and I never told her to change her hair colour or do anything she didn’t want to do. I still love her. I want us to be together for the rest of our lives.”
Another tear fell onto Noah’s stubbled cheek, and he knuckled it away.
“I love her,” Toby repeated, dizzy with how fucking true it was. How good it felt to say it out loud. “Whatever’s wrong, I’ll fix it… I’ll find a way to make everything right. I swear.”
Noah’s lip curled. “Everything?”
Toby thought of the children he and Nicole had lost, Tabby wishing her mum baked bread, the baby kangaroo hopping around with its leg missing. “I guess not.”
Noah’s hands balled into fists, and Toby froze, clamping his arms around Mopsy. If sleeping with Tabby had initiated this shakedown, witnessing Noah in such a state of vulnerability was likely to get him killed. He tensed, waiting for the smashing blow, but his old friend surged for the door, boots hammering on marble.
“Wait,” Toby called. “I don’t… is everything good? With me seeing Tabby?”
Noah turned to look at him, and he saw nothing had changed. In his hard green gaze burned the same threat he’d come to St Kilda to deliver—stay the fuck away from her.
Only now, he understood. Tabby was someone Noah could still defend. He was protecting his little sister because he couldn’t protect the baby that would never be born; the people his anger and his strength couldn’t help. His heart aching, Toby tried desperately to think of something to say, but before he could find it, the big man flung open the front door and strode into the darkness, cold night air rushing in to fill his absence.
14
Tabby rarely drove. Her dad had taught her how in the old Holden when she was sixteen, just like Sam and Nix, but she hated having to be so hyperaware of her surroundings. And no matter how well she knew the roads, she was always sure she’d get lost.
But this was an emergency. The emergency to end all emergencies. She’d borrowed Nix’s Land Cruiser, and even if she dinged every parked car, light pole, and human being between here and St Kilda, she was going to see Toby Tennant.
It had been a week since they’d fucked. Seven whole days. And no matter how many lovely messages he sent or friendly phone calls they had, Tabby knew something was wrong. In fact, the nice messages and callsproved it.
