It Takes Two Page 4

  But the difference between the two Lost Girls, was, ultimately, that Jane wasn’t really lost. She’d always had Noah—steadfast, strong Noah. And sure, Noah had played surrogate big brother to Wendy back in the day, alongside all the bickering. He would drive her along with Jane to the mall. He made sure no one—except him—picked on her when she was a freshman, that sort of thing. Hell, he’d even attended Wendy’s softball games sometimes, despite the fact that Jane was not on the team, simply because, she suspected from the vantage point of adulthood, he’d known that if he didn’t, no one else would. Wendy’s mom had been too busy working, and her aunt, though she often came over in the evenings, rarely attended games because they conflicted with choir practice at the church that was the center of her life. And that had been it for Wendy in those years: one overworked mom and one over-Jesused aunt. So Noah had taken up the slack.

  Until that horrible night he broke her heart, leaving her standing on the sidelines at the prom in that awful silver dress watching everyone else dance to goddamn Matchbox Twenty and trying to look like she didn’t care that she was alone.

  The memory was a good reminder that ultimately, neither Jane nor Noah had ever belonged to Wendy the way they did to each other.

  And now Cameron had been thrown into the mix.

  Wendy was the last Lost Girl left standing.

  “Hello? Earth to Wendy?” Jane waved her hand in front of Wendy’s eyes.

  Wendy looked up to find the sibling hug that had triggered her little existential crisis had ended. Noah was still holding his T-shirt.

  “Take this, and then give me your shirt,” Noah said. “I’ll have it cleaned.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I really should just go, because—”

  “Take it.” Noah’s voice was softer than she’d heard it all day. “Stay.”

  She took the shirt.

  Then she went into the bathroom and put it on. He’d always smelled like a Christmas tree back in the day. What were the chances he still wore the same cologne he had as a teenager? She sniffed the shirt.

  Dammit.

  * * *

  Well. If seeing Wendy in a beer-drenched shirt had gotten Noah riled up, he’d had no idea what he was in for. Because when she strolled out of the bathroom wearing his shirt, his dick took note. Which was ridiculous because the shirt was too big for her. The size differential between them meant that the “short” sleeves came almost to her elbows and the hemline halfway to her knees.

  He got up from where he was sitting at the end of the big semicircular booth they were all crammed into and motioned for her to slide in. She paused, uncertain, with the wet shirt in one hand. He grabbed the other end of the shirt and pulled, intending only to dislodge it from her grasp so he could take it home with him and get it dry cleaned. But since she didn’t let go, the result was a tug of war. It went on until Jane cleared her throat and glared at them like a put-upon mother. Wendy stopped pulling, but she didn’t let go, so he ended up tugging her closer to him. Close enough, in fact, that his T-shirt she was wearing brushed his chest. Damn. He’d had a girlfriend once who liked to sleep in his shirts. She’d seemed to kind of get off on it. He’d never really seen what the big deal was, but suddenly, he got it. If he squinted his eyes and blocked out their surroundings, he could almost imagine Wendy was wearing his shirt because she had just woken up.

  Stop it. This was Wendy, for fuck’s sake. She’d always been cute, and yes, he had kind of perved over her running attire back in the day, but he had always kept her firmly in the “honorary little sister” category.

  Which was why the next thing he said made no sense at all: “You should come to New York with Jane next time she visits.”

  What the hell was up with him?

  “You’re a big traveler, right? That’s what Jane says. I’m surprised you’ve never come with her before.”

  Eff off—he needed to shut the hell up.

  “I need to go…”

  She was about to agree. Wow, that had been easy. For some reason, he’d expected her to put up a fuss, since putting up a fuss was Wendy’s default mode when it came to him. It took him a moment to adjust to the fact that she was actually agreeing with him. “Great. I can show you some off-the-beaten-track stuff in the city.”

  She made an inarticulate hrmphing noise. “I meant home. I need to go home.”

  When she finally let go of the wet shirt and hoisted her bag on her shoulder, Jane protested loudly from across the booth.

  “I have to. This trial isn’t going to prepare itself.” Wendy wrinkled her nose at Noah. “I’ll even let him pay more than half if it gets me out of here.”

  “You have your witnesses all prepped, don’t you?” Jane asked. “You said as much the other day.”

  Noah could feel the tension rolling off Wendy. She really wanted out.

  “I do, but I need to work on my opening. It’s a tricky case.” She turned to him. “Vehicular manslaughter. No DUI; tox screens all negative; plaintiff is abject with remorse, but he took out a teenager.”

  “Texting?”

  “Surprisingly, no. Just an old-school moment of inattention.”

  He whistled. “Yeah, that is going to be a tough one. What’s the guy’s story? What does he do?”

  “Stockbroker.”

  Not a profession that garnered a lot of respect in the post–Wall Street bailout era. “He have a family?”

  “Nope. Single.”

  “Nieces or nephews? Involvement with charity? Anything you can use to humanize him?”

  “Nope, nope, and nope. He pretty much just makes money all day and spends it all night.”

  Noah wasn’t really sure why he cared. If he practiced law in this jurisdiction, it would be his job to put this guy away. Hell, if he practiced here, he and Wendy would very likely have ended up on opposite sides of the courtroom from each other every now and then—arguing professionally, not just personally. The thought was…disquieting. But also strangely stimulating. He cleared his throat and turned to the table. “Sorry guys, Wendy has to go get ready for court.” It was the truth. Not that he doubted her abilities, but she had an uphill battle with her case. Anyway, the case aside, she clearly didn’t want to be at the bar anymore, so, as her honorary big brother, he felt duty-bound to help her make an exit.

  “I really should call my aunt, too,” Wendy said.

  “Okay, fine,” Jane moped. “I can’t argue with that one. Aunt Mary needs to be called.”

  Noah turned to Jane. “Church with Mary tomorrow before I fly out?” Wendy’s family and his, both having lost their fathers, had become close when the girls were kids. Almost like in-laws. So Noah always tried to pay Mary a visit when he was in town. Went to church with her if his visit spanned a Sunday.

  “Yes!” said Jane, even as Wendy said, “No!”

  Jane ignored her friend’s protest. “Okay, Wendy, you’re excused for now. We’ll pick you up at eight thirty tomorrow.”

  She blew Wendy a kiss, and Wendy mimed catching it and pressing it against her heart. The sight was a jolt. They used to do that all the time when they were kids, but he’d forgotten. Seeing the adult versions of those girls performing the same ritual of devotion did something to him.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  She made a dismissive gesture. “I’m taking the subway.”

  “Then I’ll walk you to the station.”

  “Noah, I’m fine.”

  There was an odd edge to her tone. Like she was genuinely pissed at him. Too bad. He didn’t wait for further protest, just took her arm and started for the door. Toronto was a remarkably safe city for its size, but seeing Wendy and Jane doing their kiss-catching gesture had made something turn over in his chest. Both girls had been so vulnerable back then, losing their fathers within a couple years of each other, and at such impressionable ages. He was glad they’d had each other. They’d even created the Dead Dads Club if he remembered correctly.

&nbs
p; He hoped what little he had tried to do to help them, to smooth the way when they started high school, to make sure they had a sort of parental attention—or at least the best approximation of it he could muster—had made a bit of a difference. His mother had been too distraught over his dad’s death in a car accident—and by the fact that it had been caused by his drunk driving—to pay much attention. And Wendy’s had been too busy working.

  “There’s a subway entrance like a block from here.” As they descended the steps of the pub, Wendy pointed at what was indeed a lit-up sign indicating the subway. “You don’t need to walk me.” Her tone was clipped. She was still mad.

  “It’s nice to get some fresh air,” he said by way of deflection. It was funny how reflexively he slipped back into the caretaker mode when he was back in town. After his dad died, his mom fell into a spiral of grief, and his sister went totally silent, he’d had no choice but to grow up—utterly and immediately. To bow to the yoke of responsibility as he became everyone’s caretaker. Worked forty hours a week while keeping up his grades for the scholarship he knew he’d need. Not that he regretted any of it. He’d done what he had to do. And, really, even though he’d regarded it as a duty, keeping Wendy company had never been a difficult one. It still wasn’t.

  “Well,” she said when they’d reached the station entrance, “I hope you enjoyed your thirty seconds of fresh air. Bye, Noah!”

  The level of enthusiasm in her good-bye, especially when she’d seemed out-of-proportion pissed at him just moments ago, put him on alert. Wendy didn’t do chipper. She leaned in for a hug. That also wasn’t normal. She was definitely up to something.

  Before he could figure out what it was, she was skipping down the steps to the subway.

  It was only hours later that he realized she had, in a kind of reverse pickpocket move, given him his hundred and fifty bucks back.

  Dammit. Point to Wendy Lou Who.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, when Jane texted Wendy that she and Noah were waiting for her outside her building, Wendy had her armor on.

  Noah, in the passenger seat, got out and started to move into the back of Jane’s tiny hatchback.

  “No, no,” Wendy said. “You’ll never fit back there.”

  He waved away her protest. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Noah, your sister drives a tiny toy car, and you’re six-three.”

  “Are you two fighting about who doesn’t get shotgun?” Jane shook her head. “Honestly. We’re going to church. Try to control yourselves.”

  By the time Jane was done scolding them, Noah had gotten into the back seat. He did not, in fact, fit, but he arranged himself so his back was to the door and extended his legs along the back seat. He smirked at Wendy as she climbed into the front.

  “I haven’t seen Mary since Easter dinner at her place,” Jane said as she pulled away from the curb.

  Neither had Wendy, and that had been more than a month ago.

  Shit. She was a terrible niece. She had no excuse other than that life just got busy. Wendy was devoted to her job, and Mary was devoted to the church she attended as a congregant and worked at as an administrator—and somehow the weeks slipped by. But Mary was Wendy’s sole remaining family connection, and Wendy loved her fiercely.

  After Wendy’s dad died, her mom had taken on his shifts at the convenience store they owned, which had meant she was always working. They’d moved so they could be closer to the store—it was at her new school that Wendy had met Jane, which Wendy counted as an extremely lucky break. Wendy had basically been raised by the Denning siblings with a big assist from Aunt Mary. She’d go to the Dennings’ after school. Then she’d go home, where Mary would meet her, give her dinner, and oversee bedtime. Even when Wendy had gotten older and had protested that she didn’t need supervision anymore, Mary still came more evenings than not.

  At church, they approached Mary, who was working as a greeter that morning, and she lit up brighter than a dozen communion candles. “Wendy! Sweetie!” And when she realized Jane and Noah were here? Make that a hundred communion candles.

  Something squeezed in Wendy’s chest, and she vowed to do better by her aunt.

  “Oh my goodness!” Mary tugged Noah down and kissed him on the cheek. “What are you all doing here? You’re going to give an old lady a heart attack from excitement.”

  Noah picked the petite woman up off her feet as he hugged her. “I’m visiting Jane for the weekend, so we thought we’d surprise you.”

  “Well, you did!”

  The pressure in Wendy’s chest intensified. Noah could be so charming when he wanted to be. But that wasn’t really the right word. Charming implied a note of falsity, of manipulation. There was none of that. His interactions with Aunt Mary always seemed one hundred percent genuine. Unlike Wendy, he had an easy way with people. In high school, he’d been the rare person who could move between social groups and be welcomed in each of them. He’d been as at home with the jocks and popular kids as with the chess club—or with the nerdy friend of his little sister. For as much as he’d sparred with her, he’d taken care of her—and her little family, such as it was.

  Her moment of wistfulness was cured, though, when the collection plate came past them. Wendy usually dropped ten bucks in, and so did the Dennings when they came. This time, though, Noah dropped a huge wad of cash in the plate and shot her a smug look.

  He was putting in the money she’d given back to him last night. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She tried to lean over Mary to protest, but Mary elbowed her in the ribs and said, along with the congregation, “Accept this joyful offering as a token of our abiding love.”

  Goddammit.

  Point to Noah Denning.

  * * *

  “You guys want to come to my place for brunch?” Jane asked as she pulled away from the church. “Cameron’s cooking.”

  “Nope. I want to go running before my flight.” Noah twisted around to face Wendy in the back seat—she had won the “reverse shotgun” battle for the return trip. “I was hoping to convince you to come with me. I brought my running stuff.” He pointed at a gym bag he’d stashed in the back seat. “You in?” He didn’t really know why he wanted her to come. She was going to wipe the floor with him.

  Well, he did know: bastard that he was, he wanted to see grown-up Wendy in running clothes.

  “I’m training for a half. So I’m doing eleven miles today.” She raised her eyebrows like she doubted he could keep up.

  She was not incorrect in her assessment. But no way in hell he was going to back down from an implied challenge like that. “That’s cool,” he lied.

  “I’ll need to get my stuff, so why don’t we both change at my place?”

  “How come you’re not inviting me to go running with you?” Jane tried to pout as she altered her route to head downtown toward Wendy’s, but she couldn’t even get the sentence fully out before she cracked up. Everyone knew that Jane was allergic to exercise.

  When she pulled up in front of Wendy’s building, Jane physically pushed Noah out of the car even as she stuck her tongue out at Wendy in the rearview mirror. “You two freaks do realize that most people go for carby brunches after church, right? Cameron is making eggs Benedict for us right now. Last chance.”

  Wendy hovered with one foot on the pavement and one foot still in the car, as if she were tempted by the idea of brunch.

  “Come on,” Noah prodded. “Afraid I’ll beat you?”

  Instead of answering, she got all the way out of the car—she was so delightfully easy to bait. “What’s your half marathon time?”

  It wasn’t lost on him that this was the third time she’d asked. He could no longer deflect the question. He tried not to betray any of the chagrin he felt as he said, “Two hours even.” And that had been a year ago, the last time he’d run one.

  Wendy nodded. Tried and failed to suppress a smile. “You’re on.”

  Which is how he found himself in Wendy�
�s bathroom thinking about her changing in her bedroom across the hall.

  She emerged in a loose tank top. It was a little disappointing.

  But as she took off down the sidewalk, he realized her grown-up running wear wasn’t without its charms. The tank top featured a barely-there racerback, and she wore it over one of those bras that had a bunch of delicate little straps running in an elaborate grid over her back. Her back was lovely. It was a weird body part to find appealing, but…it just was. It was subtly muscular, and he was hypnotized by the way her shoulder blades undulated as she pumped her arms.

  He focused on them as he put one leg in front of the other and accelerated to catch up with her—he’d let himself fall behind.

  “Keep up, old man!” she yelled, and time folded in on itself. She had always shouted that at him as she sprinted off at the beginning of a run. He had an unsettling sense of déjà vu, of doing this very same thing…what? Almost twenty years ago?

  It was spring of his senior year of high school, and he’d been lured out for a run by Wendy after school but before the night shift at the store. Usually he napped in those precious hours. Four night shifts and one weekend day at the store every week plus school had him exhausted. But it was one of those perfect, cold April days when it was just starting to feel like spring was winning the battle with winter. And a run with Wendy always lifted his spirits. Sometimes, it even made him feel like he could just…keep running. Run away from his life and all the endless responsibilities it contained.

  Just keep following her bouncing ponytail forever, off into the big wide world.

  Except today, despite the fact that the spirit was willing, he physically couldn’t. Usually they were well-matched. Even though he wasn’t running on the school team anymore, he generally managed to keep pace with her. But today, he was exhausted.

  The gap between them widened. She didn’t notice at first, and he watched her fade into the distance.

  Agitation started to claw at him. Not about her beating him, but about…surviving. God. He was so tired. How was he going to make it through the rest of the school year? Recently, in moments of exhaustion like this, he’d been starting to panic. Everything was starting to feel so…out of control. Like no matter how hard he worked, he still might not be capable of beating back the forces of chaos that had the power to ruin them.