Page 36 of Before We Fell

Groaning at my own stupidity, I flung the curtains closed, slid into my sheets and turned off the lamp at my bedside, then picked up my e-reader and turned it on. A good book would settle my mind and kick out errant thoughts of Noah.

It didn’t matter that he was sexy. It didn’t matter that when I sat in his living room and spent hours talking to him, I’d felt completely pulled to him.

He was completely off-limits. And I had to remember that.

Twelve

Noah

The bright sunalmost blinded me as I yanked my golf clubs out of the back of my truck. I’d been back in Carlton for two months and hadn’t yet hit the course. Mom had picked up Riley early to take her to church with them, while I not-so-politely bowed out. Alone and too early to start banging around in the back yard per my agreement with Lauren, my hands needed something to do to stay busy.

The golf course it was, and I couldn’t believe how much I missed playing since I’d left St. Louis.

Knowing that golf was a sport that could possibly bring connections my way, or at least camaraderie, I picked it up the summer before I started law school. After searching out the most popular country clubs around St. Louis, I found the ones where more prominent lawyers and judges played. Then I busted my ass working a second job just to pay the membership fee. My first step had been taking lessons by a pro. By the time I graduated from law school, I was decent enough that I didn’t embarrass myself playing with partners in my firm who’d been groomed to play the sport by their fathers and grandfathers, their rich privilege handed down through the generations.

I didn’t mind.

I came from a nowhere town in a flyover state and wanting more for myself filled me with a drive to succeed and do it better than anyone else just to prove they weren’t better or smarter because they’d been born with a trust fund.

Somewhere along the way, the game of golf became more about connections and became a way for me to relax. There was nothing better than walking eighteen holes, bag strapped behind my shoulders, strolling down the fairway in the early morning sunshine. It was better than any gym workout I had to relieve stress, even on the days I spent more time slicing and hooking the ball into the sand traps, water hazards, and trees.

I’d called the new golf club in town and tried to make a tee time, but while they didn’t allow tee times for one, they assured me I’d be paired up with another early morning twosome when I arrived.

Awesome.Not.

Spending the morning with two possible strangers wasn’t how I wanted to start my day, but the links were calling, so I’d make do.

It had also occurred to me during that phone call that since I’d been back in Carlton, I’d done a lousy job of bothering to get to know anyone or reach out to any of my old high school friends. I’d seen some of them at Amanda’s funeral, mostly her friends but many of mine had come too. The beauty of a small town was that when tragedy struck, everyone banded together. Except at the time, I’d been more focused on Riley and surviving and getting back to St. Louis to figure out what in the hell I was going to do without my sister than I was with reconnecting with my high school jock buddies from my basketball and baseball playing days. Most of them carried more than a little extra weight in their guts, and I’d been shocked by the number of heads with thinning hair. Men who I’d partied with and hung with since I could walk who I barely recognized.

Almost all of them still lived in town. Didn’t make them bad guys, but I’d lived a completely different life for over fifteen years, and I doubted we had much in common anymore.

Seems to me Riley could use all the help you could get.

Lauren’s sweet, wise voice flittered into my brain like an annoying bug. It’d been happening more since she came to my house last Friday. A full week without any contact with her and the more time passed, the more excuses I was trying to find to see her. Or call her. I’d sent an email to her school account on Wednesday, unable to not hearsomethingfrom her, even if talking about Riley was the only thing we could do, but even her response that she’d aced a math quiz hadn’t sufficed.

I wanted her. And I had no idea how to go about getting her to see things my way. That alone was frustrating enough. I was the man with answers. I could convince anyone to see things my way, at least in the courtroom, but somehow I didn’t think sweet Lauren would fold as easily as twelve men and women in a jury box.

Which was just another reason why golfing this morning was necessary. On the course, it was me and a club against a little white ball and a self-made competition to outdo myself. I forbade all distracting thoughts once I stepped up to the first tee box.

I settled my golf bag in the rack outside the door to the pro shop. Crouching down, I slid out of my sandals and put on my golf shoes. The spikes clinked on the cement sidewalk to the pro shop and once inside, I was taken aback by the richness of the space.

Seemed Jordan Marx, an old local once turned professional ball player who now owned the club, hadn’t spared a single expense in making this club and everything surrounding it as luxurious as any I’d seen in larger cities. Having been moved away for long didn’t exclude me from knowing current events in Carlton. I had a mom who enjoyed gossip and she freely shared that information with both Amanda and me over the years.

Impressed, I headed toward the check-in counter only to be surprised when the man himself was behind it.

“Jordan Marx, right?” I asked, already extending my hand toward him. “Noah Wilkes.”

His expression was blank. “Noah. Know who you are, man. I knew Amanda too. Sorry about what your family’s been through.”

Like every time her name was mentioned, a quick burst of pain shot to my stomach. “Appreciate it. Thanks.”

He tapped his hands on the counter and grinned. “You’re also our third this morning. Saw your name on the sheet when I got in and figured I’d take you if that’s okay. And if not, that’s cool, but the only other twosomes who come in this early run in your parents’ circles and figured you’d want to avoid that.”

Damn. The man was smart. Like he knew I wouldn’t want to talk about life. Or Riley. Or Amanda, and no doubt, if Dad’s friends were on the course, they’d be grilling me left and right along with insisting I do something even crazier than golf, like join their retired-men’s poker nights or hang with them to watch football games at the local Legion.

I ran a hand through my hair. “Yeah, actually I appreciate that.”

“Good.” He smacked his hand down on the counter again. “You want to walk it or drive? My buddy Ryan will be here any minute and we usually walk it, but if you want a cart, it’s on me.”

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