Chapter 13
Noah
My mother lets out the second cackle of the night from the living room, and I fight the urge to wander in to figure out why.
In the meantime, while straining to listen to their conversation, I pull the takeout containers from the fridge.
It looks like they may have missed one of the soups I ordered.
“They deliver everything?” I yell.
“It’s all in the fridge,” my mother hollers back.
Yeah, well, I figured that much out already. Whenever I order takeout with my mom I order extra, hoping that she’ll eat it throughout the week. It’s easy and convenient. Nine times out of ten, though, she doesn’t.
I cut up the subs, turkey and roast beef, placing them on a plate. Then I heat the soups in the microwave.
It’s nearly 8:30 p.m. and I need to head back to the cabin with Lily.
Lily.
Her sleeping in her car caught me off guard.
If I’d known—well, I’m not sure what I would have done, but something.
It all makes sense now—her offhand comments at the hospital, the way she brushed off questions about where she was staying, or where I could drop her off.
Maybe she genuinely loves hiking and the freedom of a nomadic lifestyle, but has she really been living out of her car, moving from one town to the next?
The image unsettles me, a mix of admiration for her independence and concern for what she might be running from.
The microwave beeps, and I swap out the potato soup for the broccoli cheddar, then set it for another two minutes. While it hums, I lean against the counter, listening to my mom tell Lily about every little movement I made from a toddler to high school.
Lily doesn’t say much as my mother cusses her way through embarrassing stories, so I figure it’s about time I interrupt her for Lily’s sake.
Padding into the living room, I catch my mother’s hands flying through the air.
The arm holes of her shirt droop low off her muscle-worn biceps as she animatedly tells Lily the story of when I was nine, and there was a new kid at school.
“He was shy, wore glasses too big for his face, and didn’t make friends easily.
One day,” my mom says, “I got a call from the school because Noah had walked straight out of the classroom in the middle of a lesson without asking or telling anyone where he was going. Turns out, he had snuck an extra cookie from the lunch line and decided to bring it to the boy who he’d noticed was sitting alone on the playground.
It was slightly embarrassing to be on the receiving end of that phone call from the office, but honestly, I couldn’t have been more proud.
That’s just who he’s always been—always looking out for others. ”
My mind flips through the memory of that day.
The teacher was droning on and on about decimals, and I was sitting near the windows overlooking the playground.
Another class was out there for some reason or another—science class, maybe.
Either way, he was sitting all alone on the swings while his classmates ignored him, and the extra cookie I’d grabbed at lunch for an after-school snack seemed as good a peace offering as any.
I had detention after school for two days, but Brent and I became best friends—inseparable, really. He was the sibling I never had.
“Sounds like you haven’t changed,” Lily says, standing. Then she approaches me. “Could I use the bathroom?”
I raise my hand to point, but she flinches, and I’m taken back, jerking my hand down and into my pocket. What? My brows furrow as I gesture with my head instead. “Down the hall and to the left.”
When the door to the hallway guest bathroom clicks shut, my mother’s chipper demeanor falls flat off her face, and she pins me with a steely glare. “You most certainly have not changed, therefore I know there’s more to this story with that girl than you’re telling me.”
I sigh. “What I told you is the truth. Morgan called from some random blind date. Said she felt uncomfortable, er she wasn’t feeling it,”—my mother snorts—“so I picked her up. On the way into town, I pulled off at the gas station and Lily was there. Turns out she’s living out of her car.
By choice or necessity, I haven’t figured out for sure, yet perhaps a little bit of both.
It’s supposed to be cold tonight, and when her car didn’t start, I offered her one of the bunks at my cabin and texted Tom to come tow her car to the shop.
Are you telling me I should’ve left her there? ”
“Noah Sullivan, you cannot take that girl to your cabin.”
“And why not? She needs a place to crash. Her car won’t run.”
“She needs more than a place to crash. She needs a place to stay, and do you see the way she responds to you? That flinch? She’s intimidated by you.”
I rear back and let out a disbelieving snort. “Yeah, right. Lily’s looks could kill and her attitude …”
I want to say her disposition is dangerously effective at keeping people away, but I pause. Maybe it’s only certain people. Old Man John seems to have a way with her, and mom … Lily looked comfortable talking with her, relaxed even.
“Trust me. That girl has been hurt by someone, probably a man. That prickly exterior is meant to keep others from getting close enough to see the vulnerability underneath. It takes time.” My mother’s gaze flits over to the window, the inky night causing her reflection to stare back as she loses herself to a brewing memory.
The microwave beeps with its tenth reminder ding, and I shake my head wondering what in the hell I’m going to do with her now. I don’t want to scare her.
The bathroom door opens and Lily pads out.
She tugs the sleeves of her sweater over her hands, the fabric bunching in her fists, and I hate how this minuscule movement provokes protectiveness in my chest. Did she pull them over her hands as subconscious armor?
Something strangles me deep inside at the thought of her fingers curled under the soft material, hiding herself.
Great …now I’m reading into all her movements. She’s probably just cold.
“Soups are warm,” I say, focused on her covered hands.
She fidgets until I look away, meeting her eyes.
Normally, her gaze is sharp and unnerving, but when I look at her, there’s a disarming openness to her expression, and the sudden shift throws me off.
To the point I don’t remember what I was going to say, so I skulk off to the kitchen, hoping they’ll follow.
The recliner squeaks, and the sound of my mom’s tank wheeling in behind me prompts me to look around. Lily trails behind her as well, and my mom gives me a what-the-hell-is-your-problem look and shakily drags her feet to a seat at the table.
To my surprise, Lily beats her there, towing out the chair for her to sit.
“Thank you,” my mother says.
“Uh-huh.” Lily’s tongue darts out to lick her lips and I track the movement. “Uh, can I get the drinks?”
I blink away the image seared in my mind, and nod. “Sure. Top cabinet to the right of the sink.”
Effortlessly, she weaves her way over, having to push up on her tiptoes to reach the glasses on the middle shelf, and I quietly surrender to my baser instincts.
I trace the black leggings from her ankles as her stretch elongates her petite figure.
Following the flex of her calves, moving upward to her toned thighs, the fabric clings to her shape in all the right places.
Captivated, I linger where her crewneck hem rides up, exposing the tight slope of her backside, and taking in each dip and line—
Lily drops down, feet planted solidly on the linoleum flooring. Time propels forward, back to normal, as her sweater also drops, cutting me off. I mentally chide myself. What is it about this girl? So simple, yet so intriguing.
I spin around before Lily turns to catch where I’ve been entranced by her, but I’m met with my mother’s smug grin and raised eyebrows instead.
We eat mostly in silence, with the occasional complaint from my mother about how she couldn’t possibly eat another bite, except she’s only had two small spoonfuls of soup before claiming as much. Lily watches her, an inkling of concern etched into her expression as my mother struggles to eat.
When we’re finished, Lily volunteers to wash up the few plates and cups while I escort my mom into the living room, pills for the evening in tow. When she sits back in her chair, I dump the handful of medicine in her hand and supervise her long enough to make sure she takes them all.
“Hand me that blanket, will you?”
I move to grab the knitted quilt draped over the loveseat, stitched together in a patchwork of colors and patterns by my great grandmother.
The mismatched fabric is still soft, though aged and curled at the edges.
Tucking it over her lap, I smile and then turn to go help Lily.
We really should be on our way. Max is probably itching to go outside, but before I can leave, my mom’s cold hand reaches out for mine, doing her best to tug me in close to her.
“She can stay here.” When I tilt my head in confusion, she barrels on. “Lily should stay here. I have your old bedroom, and the guest bathroom across from it. The cleaning lady keeps up with those rooms, so they’re made and ready to use.”
“She’ll never go for this …” Though, as I say that an idea comes to me.
“Just tell her it’s until the weather is nicer, if that will make her less worried about it. But I have the space, and I’d feel a whole lot better knowing she has her own room, a place to stay.”
I make a show of considering it, and nod before heading to the kitchen where Lily is drying the last of the glasses and struggling once more to put them away.
This time, I jump in to help her, reaching up from behind to take the cup.
My hand grazes hers, and there’s a mild spark that hums through my fingertips.
I’m caught between instinct to rip my hand away and the undeniable pull to reach out further.
Her skin is soft, and my pulse quickens as I force myself to put the tumbler on the shelf.
For the first time, there’s a tension thick in the air between us as she spins, back pressed to the counter to look up at me. The bright essence of her gaze, those eyes that glow like some sort of magical power renders me momentarily speechless until she looks away and pushes past me.
“Are we going soon?”
“Actually, there’s something I’d like to run by you.” I glance toward the living room, then move to the front door, open it, and motion outside.
Lily crosses her arms and shakes her head but strolls through the door anyway. It’s chilly on the porch, as we both stand there in our socks under the subdued yellow light, her glaring at me, and me … enjoying it.
“What?” she asks. “It’s freezing out here.”
“See. And you wanted to stay in your car.” The corner of my mouth twitches into a full-blown smile when she glowers even deeper, wrapping her arms tighter around herself.
“My mom asked if you’d want to stay here for a while. You can stay in my old bedroom, and there’s the guest bathroom you’d have completely to yourself—”
“No.” Color instantly floods her cheeks.
“Wait. No, listen, please. I think this would be good for her. What you said about companionship rather than a nurse, whose presence must be an omen for impending death—you’re right.
My mother needs someone to help her. She’s forgetting to take her medicine, barely eating enough, and she won’t let me move back in, no matter how many times I plead with her.
Having someone here would be ideal, and she likes you.
Said so herself. There aren’t too many people my mom likes. ”
While I’m explaining, Lily chews the corner of her mouth, furiously shaking her head back and forth. “You don’t even know me. I’m a stranger. I could make off with your mother’s belongings or something.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Will you?”
“What? No. I’m just saying. I could be anyone. Trust me, I’m not someone you want around. I’ve got my own problems.”
“But that’s what makes this work.” I reach out to swipe a thumb across her balled-up fist, but she jerks away. “My mom sees you as needing a place to stay. She thinks she’s helping you out, but I also need help. She needs help.”
Realizing I may be coming across a little too desperate, I back away, giving her space.
“Uh, I, uh. Noah …”
I ignore the way my name sounds coming out in a sigh from her mouth. “I’ll take you to my cabin, you can sleep on the bunk for as long as you need, then go back to your car when it’s out of the shop if you want. I’m not trying to pressure you. I won’t pressure you.”
With those last words, she backpedals, the wool of her boot sock snagging on a protruding nail in the porch, loosening a loop of thread. She stares at it.
A low breeze sweeps across the porch, blowing the stray pieces of dark hair over her long lashes while dry leaves skitter over the wooden deck. I glance up toward the half-moon slowly dipping under the blanket of slate clouds as the first few droplets of rain splatter against the roof.
The horses in the pasture behind the house whinny as the rhythm steadily gains traction and the pattering intensifies.
I look at Lily who’s now staring at me. The wind flicks several raindrops on her face, and I trace them as they roll down her pink tinted cheeks. She studies my uniform, slowly wicking the moisture from the gusting downpour, and I fight the urge to reach out and touch her.
So alone. She’s so alone and living my greatest fear.
“Lil?”
“I’ll stay,” she says, and my shoulders sag in relief. “But it’s for your mom. I don’t want handouts, and I leave when I want to.”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll go tell her.”
I move toward the door, turning the handle as she calls out behind me.
“And don’t call me Lil.”