Chapter 17 Ruth
seventeen
Ruth
Warmth generates from the freshly tumbled towels as I roll them like the spas do and stack them into piles on the couch.
Noah’s voice carries from the kitchen, where he joins in the chores, doing his best to sweep.
He’s been talking nonstop since I got home.
Not that I mind. I love it, as it reminds me of how he used to be as a young boy.
It’s just not his typical self since he entered his teens, disappearing into his room with earbuds and his phone.
I usually consider myself lucky to get a grunt.
“Did you hear Bill say that I was fast?”
I roll a hand towel and keep my voice light. “I did hear that, and you are fast. Are you ready for the first game? It’s coming up.”
“Yeah, I’m always ready for ice time, but did you know what?
” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Bill said I need to pass more than shoot. Then later he said I could be a little more vocal. I was thinking about that after lunch, you know? I think he’s right.
It sets you up to be seen as a leader if you can communicate well. He’s so smart.”
I blow out a heavy sigh. Bill is consuming Noah’s mind.
If I’m honest, he’s sort of all I can think about too.
It’s overwhelming. At least I used to be able to come home, where Noah and I had our own little family that was safe from Bill.
I pause with my hands still on the towel. “You talked about leadership?”
“Yeah.” Noah takes a few steps out of the kitchen with his hand still wrapped around the broom handle. “He said real leaders aren’t loud all the time, but they need to know when it’s right to speak up.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as I desperately dig for a matching sock, like that sock is going to save me.
Because my son bragging about Bill Was. Not. On. My. Bingo. Card.
Noah never had a male role model he connected with.
That’s why I nudged him into sports. I purposely sought out the best coaches, but they’ve never been the one-on-one a boy needs.
The coaches cared, but they had rosters to manage.
They didn’t sit with him and give advice over pancakes.
I clear my throat, wishing it was that easy to clear my anxieties.
“So,” I try to steer back away from Bill, “are you ready for practice tomorrow?”
“Almost. I might retape my stick tonight. Bill said it is good luck.” He leans back, smiling like he’s had the best day of his life.
After a beat of silence, where I risk an easier breath, he adds, “It was fun though. You know, talking to Bill. He’s not like what I expected for someone who played pro and also owns the team.
I wasn’t nervous to talk to him at all. He was like a friend. ”
I force a pinch-lipped smile while my insides twist.
This feels like things are falling into place without my permission.
Noah’s still smiling when he turns around, heading back into the kitchen. I sit on the couch, folding the same dish towel three times before I realize I’ve already folded it. I set everything back in the basket and catch my phone lighting up from the coffee table.
Bill’s name is glowing on the lock screen.
Thanks again for lunch. It was the highlight of my day seeing you and getting to talk to Noah.
Seriously?
I shouldn't reply.
But I want to reply.
But I shouldn't want to reply.
My fingers move before I can drop my phone.
He liked talking to you too. Thanks for being kind to him. Send.
I barely set the phone down before it lights up again.
Can I see you tonight?
My heart stutters. Boy, he doesn’t mess around. I look at the clock. It’s late. Too late to tell Noah I’m running an errand.
It’s kind of late. I don’t want to have to explain to Noah why I’m leaving the house after I already took all my makeup off. I never do that. He’ll worry.
I set the phone down again and waltz into the kitchen, busying myself with wiping my counter.
One thing about Bill entering my life, my counters have never been cleaner.
I’ve wiped them all down again and am working on the front of the fridge when Noah’s phone pings.
He retrieves it from his pocket and says, “Hey, Mom, I’m heading to JD’s for wings with the guys from the team. ”
I blink. “Wait, what? I fed you two meals at the diner. How are you even hungry?”
“I've been training.” He moves toward the front door, slips on his shoes and jacket, but pauses to look back at me. “Besides, wings are just a snack. Nobody can get full on wings.”
“Okay, try not to be out too late. You know I can’t sleep well until I know you are home, and I have to be at the diner at five again.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be back by midnight. I have practice tomorrow too.” He strides forward while typing on his phone and closing the door behind him.
Without pause, my eyes cut to my phone.
I pick it up and do something I would never have thought I’d ever do.
Me: Actually, Noah just left with friends. What do you want to do?
He answers in seconds.
Bill: How about wings at JD’s? It’s bucket night.
I shake my head, smiling despite myself.
Me: I like wings, but not JD’s. That’s where Noah’s going. Actually, anywhere public might be a risk.
Bill: Okay. Not JD’s or anyplace public. I could pick them up, and we can eat them at my place.
My stomach flips. I stare at the message as my breath catches. I’m not going to his place! Is he insane?
Me: That’s way too private. I’m not ready for that.
His reply is quick:
Bill: Okay. Not my place. Somewhere public but not public, and private but not private. I have an idea, but it’s a surprise. Meet me at the diner.
My thumb hovers. My heart races. Every part of me is screaming at me for doing this. Well, every part except my heart. Before I talk myself out of it, I manage a simple:
Me: Give me twenty minutes.