“Noa.” Stone redirects my attention. “What the hell is he referring to?”
I sigh and face him; the wind picking up speed and billowing my hair behind me. It’s ice-driven and freezing, enough to overtake the blush I thought I needed. “It’s nothing like how he insinuated, and honestly, if it wasn’t such an opportunity, I wouldn’t go anywhere with that jerk.”
“Go where?” Stone’s eyes are as grey as the sky behind him. Overcast, impending, and wary.
It hurts to look at him. “To work in his restaurant. And go to culinary school enrolling in January. In?—”
“Paris,” he finishes, his voice chilled.
I swallow and nod. “This was before your mom?—”
Stone holds up a gloved hand to stop me. “You should go. She would want you to.”
My chest turns to ice. “What? Really?”
“It’s an amazing opportunity.”
“It is,” I agree, “but you’re important to me, too. That donation you made … I just heard about it, otherwise I would have thanked you weeks ago. Why didn’t you tell me? It’s not important. I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”
Stone’s expression shutters, colder than the air surrounding us and as unmoving as his new name. “It was the least I could do. You won’t deny the chef because of me, right?”
"Well, considering you tossed me over your shoulder and carried me out the last time I approached him…”
“I’m getting out of this town as soon as I can,” Stone cuts in. Coldly. “Aaron booked my jet to LA this evening.”
“And you’re going?” I hate how unsure my question sounds. Clingy and full of tremors, just like a decade ago. “But your speech just now…”
“Falcon Haven was important to my mother, yes. But she’s not here anymore. And my home is in LA. We got each other through a horrible time, Noa, and I can’t thank you enough for being there for me and showing so much support, but I think it’s time we move on. My mother wouldn’t want us to stay here because we felt some sort of debt to each other.”
My mouth falls open, and I balk at him. “Debt? That’s what I am to you?”
He responds with a curt smile.
I’m sickened under its scope.
“We needed each other to heal our wounds from when we were children,” he says. “It’s time for us to grow up. What I said, what I did the night Ma was hurt, I was angry, emotional, and not being smart about your future when I went to a bar and picked a fight with a White Tiger.”
“Youwhat?”
“You were never meant to be a nurse,” he continues. “You should pursue your passion the same way I pursued mine. I don’t want to keep you from that.”
“I…” I fold my arms over my middle, as if that can keep me from tearing apart. “I was going to say yes to Saint”—and this part hurts the most— “You’re right. Mrs. Stalinski would want me to go. AndIwant to go.”
“So you should go,” Stone repeats.
He crosses his arms, retaining warmth as his cheeks and nose redden.
Another barrier.
“Who were we going to spend Christmas with, anyway?” he asks.
You.
But if I say it out loud, I might break.
I can’t believe he weakened me again. That I let him break through my carefully placed walls, that I could allow him to worm his way into a heart full of holes.
“Both our mothers are gone. Any invitations would be pity,” Stone reasons. “So go to Paris. Christmas in Paris is a sight to behold, and you deserve it.”
