Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
JESSICA
Noah has been quiet since his surgery. I knew it was to be expected, but it’s been a few days now and he just seems so subdued, almost numb. And yet I know he’s in pain. He has medication to help manage it, but it’s hard to ignore his clear discomfort.
Aspen won’t leave his side, she’s even started to sleep in our room. Caleb moved one of her beds in there too, but he’s adamant once Noah is healed, she’ll be going back to the kitchen, and her nook, but we’ll see.
The doctors said he should be able to resume usual activities within a couple of weeks. It’s not even been a week, and his frustration is evident.
I’m trying not to mollycoddle him, but it’s hard with my need to help riding me all the time. It’s not my intention to smother him, but I can’t seem to help myself and I worry it will make him snap if I’m not careful.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” I ask for what feels like the hundredth time.
His sigh is hard to ignore before he replies, “No, but thank you.”
I chew on my lip and move from foot to foot, not knowing what else to do with myself. The house is clean, the laundry is done.
“You know you didn’t have to take time off work,” he says.
Carefully, I sit beside him and reach for his hand, grateful he doesn’t pull away, because I need his touch now more than anything else.
“I know, but I wanted to be here for you, Noah. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
He turns his face to mine, the purple shadows under his eyes showing how much rest he’s not been getting. Yet, this is the time he should be sleeping, to help him heal.
“Of course, I just don’t want to be a burden.”
I grit my jaw and tamp down my urge to snap at him. “You’re not a burden and quite frankly I find you even suggesting as much offensive.”
His lips rise into a smile, and I want to be angry with him, but it’s been so long since he smiled.
“It’s not funny,” I reply instead.
Noah tilts his head. “On the contrary, I love it when you get all feisty.”
It’s nice to see him playful again.
“Yeah, and I love it when you smile.”
His hazel eyes soften, his fingers squeezing mine. “I’m sorry I’ve been insufferable,” he replies.
I shake my head. “No, you’ve not been, not at all. I’ve just been worried about you, we both have.”
His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, they’re a little cracked. I reach for the small tin of Vaseline. Taking it from me, he twists off the lid and dabs some on his lips and I almost laugh. Something about the way he puts it on his lips, almost passive aggressively.
“Here, give me that.” I rub the pad of my little finger into the balm until I have a nice amount and then apply it. I do the motion of rubbing my lips together and he follows suit, but it’s almost awkward.
He sighs. “I hate being laid up and unable to do anything,” he admits. “And this,”—he gestures to his t-shirt-covered chest—“is going to take some time to get used to.”
If the roles were reversed, I’d likely be no different, and yet I can’t begin to understand how he feels.
“It makes me think of my mum.”
I nod, holding his gaze. “You never really talk about her,” I reply.
His teeth begin to bite at the chapped skin on his bottom lip, and I gently tug it from between his teeth.
“I know. It’s just hard, even now I struggle. I loved her so damn much.” His voice catches, and I see the tears glisten in his eyes.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” I say, my hand moving to his again.
But he shakes his head. “No, I want to. It’s not that I don’t want to talk about her, it’s just most of the time I physically can’t.
Even now, after all this time, it still feels so raw.
There are moments when she’s all I want to talk about, remembering something she said or would have liked, and then when I go to voice them out loud the words get lodged in my throat. ”
I nod. “It’s the same when I think of my nan,” I admit, stroking my thumb over his wedding bands, loving the feel of it beneath my touch.
“Caleb knows a little about my life growing up, how my dad was an abusive cunt.” His voice is almost venomous when he mentions his dad, his disdain palpable. “He used to beat her so badly, Jessica. I wish she’d never met him, even if it meant me never being born.”
That admission brings all my emotions to the surface. “Please don’t say that,” I reply, my voice catching.
“I know, I’m sorry. I just feel guilty. She only stayed with him because of me, she was trapped. I often wonder if she hadn’t have had me, would she have left him?”
I don’t think there’s an answer to that. I watch him run his free hand through Aspen’s fur as she lounges next to him on the throw blanket. So much for the no sofa rule.
“As tragic as it is, I believe if the cancer hadn’t killed her, he would have.”
I know she died of breast cancer and his dad died about a year later, but that’s about it. “Best thing that could have happened to him,” Noah continues, “was driving into a central reservation. May he rest in hell.”
Noah rarely speaks like this, it’s such a contrast to the man I know and love, but at the same time, I get it.
“I wish I could have met her,” I say after he falls silent.
He smiles at that. “Me too.”
“What was her name?” I ask, realising I have no idea.
“Rose.”
I roll the name around on my tongue.
“Rose is a lovely, strong name,” I reply.
He nods. “Just like her, and like you,” he says, leaning in and ghosting my mouth with his.
“Has this made you think about her more? With your diagnosis and the surgery?” I ask, not wanting to shy away from what he’s been through and the parts of himself he tries to hide.
“It has, and deep down you wonder if you carry the gene, if it will affect you, or your kids, and I guess in my case it did.”
He wraps his arm over my shoulder, and I move into his side.
“When I’m better, I want you and Caleb to visit the cemetery with me. We can take some flowers so I can introduce you both properly.”
“I’d be honoured, thank you.”
That sentiment means more to me than he could possibly realise.