16. Noah
16
Noah
S he stole my fucking car.
Innocent little Zoey fucking James stole my car, and not only that, but she did a burnout right up the main street in front of the school.
What in the fresh hell was that?
I stare at her across the dining table, my fingers drumming on the hard wood, unable to look away. I don’t know if I want to get in her face or applaud her for a job well done. If it had been anyone else or any other car, I might even go as far as to say that I was impressed, maybe even a little turned on. Okay, a lot turned on, but this is Zoey, and I shouldn’t be thinking of her like that.
Showing up here, I quickly realized my Camaro wasn’t in the driveway, and my anger has been boiling beneath the surface ever since. What the fuck did she do with it? Knowing Zoey, this is all part of her master plan. She has more in store for me, and I’m playing right into the palm of her hand. But what else am I supposed to do? She’s holding my car hostage and I’m not about to let her get away with it.
She glares right back at me as our parents try to hold some semblance of a conversation. They’re either oblivious to the tension in the room or going well out of their way to ignore it. But to me, all that exists right now is Zoey and the smug grin resting on her full lips.
Fuck, I want to kiss them so bad, but not like the way I used to. I’ve kissed her thousands of times before, each one just as amazing as the last, but they were the kind of kisses an innocent boy gives to the girl of his dreams, nothing but a respectable peck here and there. But the way I want to kiss her right now. That’s different. I want to claim her, kiss her so fucking deeply that her knees crumble, and I have to grasp her waist just to keep her on her feet.
Damn it.
I knew transferring to East View High and seeing her again was going to screw with my resolve. Zoey James is not mine anymore. I tore her to shreds, and I sure as hell don’t have the right to think about her like this or want her in a way I never have before. Especially considering the way I’ve hurt her.
Being back here, surrounded by the walls that hold so many of our childhood memories, has brought a surge of nostalgia swirling within me. This is where I first realized how deeply I loved her. It’s where I stood out in the yard as a seven-year-old boy and got down on one knee, proposed to her, and told her she was the most beautiful girl I ever knew. We were only playing then, but there was such a profound truth to those words. Not the proposal bit, but the part about Zoey being beautiful. She always has been. Undeniably so.
Officially, I haven’t been here in over three years. Unofficially, I’ve snuck through Zoey’s bedroom window more times than I care to admit. Usually only when things are at their worst, or when I feel like I’m about to spiral. I come here and sit in her room, and by the time I leave, I feel grounded again, as if just being closer to her could somehow make everything better. Not that I’ll be telling her that.
Fuck, had she caught me during those dark moments, or if I had set my eyes upon her and seen that light that always seems to shine so brightly, I know I would have crumbled.
There have been a few times where I’ve sat on the roof outside her bedroom window as she slept, staring out at the street, refusing to peer in at the broken girl inside. I know she feels like I’ve put this distance between us, and she’s right, I have, but in some way, I’ve always been right here, she just never knew it.
My fingers continue drumming against the table as I refuse to break our stare. With every passing second, it feels as though that invisible string between us pulls just a little bit tighter, but soon enough, it’s bound to snap.
Irritation burns through me. I hate that just the sight of her is screwing with my head. I’m trying to keep her at arm’s length, not draw her back in. There’s a reason I pushed her away, and despite how every last piece of me is screaming to have her back in my arms, I need to keep this distance. Her father was right on Friday night. I’m a troubled kid. I’m heading down a path I won’t be able to claw my way back from, and I refuse to drag her down with me. The darkness has consumed me, and while she shines brighter than any star in the sky, my darkness will drown her.
Tension rolls off me, and the longer I relentlessly hold her stare, the faster her resolve begins to crumble. There’s a silent challenge lingering in the air between us, but neither of us is willing to say a word or give in. She never could handle the intensity of my stare. I have to give it to her though, she’s putting in a good effort.
The sound of cutlery against the plates mixes with the conversation flowing around the table. I don’t miss the way Zoey just sits there, letting her food go cold, too preoccupied with this current battle for dominance that seems to be going down between us.
When she stole my car after school, she turned this disastrous game into a cold-blooded battle, and if that’s the way she wants to play, then so be it. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. The only question is, can she handle it?
Zoey blindly reaches in front of her, closes her hand around her glass of water, and lifts it to her lips. Just as she tips the glass and takes a sip, I lift my foot under the table and brace it against her chair, right between her knees. She sputters into her water, her eyes widening before she chokes and breaks her stare.
“Oh, honey,” Erica rushes out, gently clapping her hand on Zoey’s back and rushing in with napkins to mop up the spilled water. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Zoey says, her glare sharpening back on me as she reaches between her legs and shoves my foot off the end of her chair, then she goes as far as to use her feet to kick me even further away. “Must have gone down the wrong way.”
It’s almost ironic. Three years ago, we used to do the exact same thing, only the looks we were secretly giving one another across the table were very different. Either way, I think it’s clear to say I’ve won this round. And to think just how easy it was.
Clearly irritated with me, Zoey lets out an almost inaudible huff and forces a fake smile as she turns toward the conversation, leaving me almost gasping for air. Only there’s a different James daughter now demanding my attention.
Hazel stares at me, narrowing her gaze, and it’s clear that she’s the only other person at the table actually paying any attention to what’s been going down the past fifteen minutes.
Hazel doesn’t say a word, just watches me, only unlike her big sister, there’s no disdain or confusion swelling in her green eyes, just plain old curiosity. A smirk pulls at the corners of her lips, and with that, she lifts her hand, her fingers hovering in front of her eyes before turning them on me, the universal sign for I’m watching you .
A wide grin stretches across my lips, and I almost let out a real laugh, something I don’t recall doing for . . . actually . . . I have no idea how long it’s been. That move had Linc written all over it. He used to give me that bullshit all the time, and I hated it, but now, it only makes me realize just how much I miss it. Then just because she’s asking for a different kind of trouble of her own, I tear off a small piece of bread from the roll on my plate and brace it against the edge of my fork. With their parents’ attention firmly on the she-devil sitting across from me, I pull back the fork and launch the bread forward.
It arches high across the table, and I watch as Hazel’s eyes open. Without a second to dodge out of the way, it hits home, slamming right against her cheek.
Her mouth drops in mock horror, and she quickly scrambles for the piece of bread, only to dunk it in her water before loading it onto the end of her fork. Eight-year-old Hazel from three years ago would have already burst from the seams with laughter, but she’s eleven now, and she knows better than to draw attention to us before getting a chance at sweet revenge.
Seeing exactly where this is going, I give her a hard stare and shake my head, warning her that this isn’t a war she wants to start with me, and before I can even get my warning across, she launches the soggy bread. It hits me square in the jaw, and the way it clings to the side of my face is too much for her to handle before a loud, snorting laugh booms across the table.
All eyes turn to Hazel, wondering what the fuck has gotten into her as I fake a look of innocence and flick the soggy bread off my face.
My mom smiles wide at Hazel before turning her gaze toward me and holding my stare. As she realizes I had everything to do with that laugh, her face creases with the brightest smile, one I haven’t seen since before losing Linc.
Something flutters in my chest, and I do what I can to crush it back down, letting my gaze fall away.
Fuck, I miss Linc.
The last time I sat in this very spot, he was sitting right here with me, the four of us all cramped on one end of the table so we could fuck around away from our parents’ watchful eyes. My father was sitting on my mother’s right, looking at her as though she was his whole world. Funny how tragedy can show people’s true colors. He split six months after Linc died without a care for how Mom and I were supposed to get through it all alone.
I suppose I’m no better than my father. Only instead of leaving, I just mentally checked out. I was a ghost for Mom to have to deal with day in and day out, causing trouble and giving her hell. Shit, I’ve really been an asshole. If I knew how to apologize and make it up to her, I would, but I’ve never been any good at that shit. The only person who seemed to fully understand that about me was Zoey. She never held it against me and always helped me through it when I needed it, but now . . .
“What’s going on down there?” Erica, Zoey’s mom asks, her gaze settled on me. “You look like you just went somewhere.”
I clench my jaw, not particularly willing to entertain this, especially now with everyone’s attention on me, but despite everything, Erica has always been too good to me. She was like a second mom until I split. “Nothing,” I murmur, my gaze falling away. “Just noticing how there’s a lot of empty chairs at this table now.”
Erica gives me a sad smile, her heart falling out on her sleeve. “Yes. However, since the last time your mom came for dinner, there’s now one less empty chair, and to me, that’s cause for celebration,” she tells me. “You have no idea how wonderful it is to see you sitting around my table again Noah, even if all you want to do is trade glares with Zoey all night.”
Well, shit. Maybe our parents were paying attention after all.
Erica gives me a smug grin as if she’s in on a secret that I know nothing about, and when my mom breaks the silence, I couldn’t be more grateful. “So, my little warrior,” she says to Zoey, making my brows furrow at her use of that old nickname, something I haven’t heard in what seems like a lifetime. “How’s school going? Still kicking ass in all your classes?”
Zoey scoffs. “Kicking ass is not exactly how I would put it,” she says before explaining herself. “It’s been one week, and the homework and assignments are already piling up. I thought they might ease us into it, but apparently, my teachers are the throw them straight in the deep end type.”
“Ah, that sucks,” Mom tells her. “Just give it a little time. I’m sure you’ll find your groove.”
“Let’s hope.”
Erica smirks toward her daughter. “I’m sure if you didn’t spend your afternoons talking on the phone and committing grand theft auto, you would have plenty of time to get on top of that pile of homework.”
Zoey reaches for her glass of water again, sparing me a quick glance before lifting it to her lips. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” she says dismissively as if my car keys aren’t currently burning a hole in her pocket. At least, that’s where I assume she’s keeping them. She’s not going to make it easy for me to get them back.
Mom and Erica share a glance, and it’s clear they already know every detail about Zoey’s afternoon activities, and it grinds my gears that Mom didn’t think to even mention it to me. Though I don’t know why I’m so surprised. Mom and Erica gossip like a bunch of old ladies. They live for it, and as for Zoey, she tells her mom everything, even knowing that most of the time, anything she tells her mom will somehow get back to me through mine.
Moving right along, Erica glances back at me. “How are you settling in at East View? I’m assuming Coach Martin was thrilled to have you join the team?”
A harsh scoff rips from the back of my throat, and I find my leg stretching out under the table and settling right beside Zoey’s, her bare skin resting against mine, and damn it, she doesn’t even try to pull away. “Thrilled is one way to put it,” I mutter. “He thinks I’m more trouble than I’m worth, but he’s also thirsty for the championship trophy, so he’s putting up with me. He’s making me work for it though.”
“Good,” Zoey’s father says, barely able to meet my eye after our little chat out on the front lawn on Friday night. “What good is a coach who doesn’t push his players to their limits? He might be hard on you, but he’s making you a better player.”
I press my lips into a hard line and nod. “He’s holding me to a hundred percent attendance and a B+ average as well. If I start to slip, I’m done.”
Zoey leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, her dinner still untouched. “The way I heard it, Coach Martin isn’t the only one putting limitations on your enrollment,” she adds, but how she knows about my conversation with Principal Daniels doesn’t sit well with me. Our conversation about my enrollment was private, especially considering the end result was forcing me into counseling, and it sure as fuck isn’t something I want to openly discuss at her dining table.
I don’t respond, just hold her stare, daring her to push me on this. Electricity pulses between us, her leg practically burning hot against mine, and that tether tightens between us once again.
“Speaking of school,” Mom says, defusing the situation before it gets ugly. “Have you guys had a chance to hang out much?”
Zoey sputters again, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s going for a record. “That’s a joke, right?” she asks, gaping at my mom and pulling her leg away from mine, sending a searing pain through my chest that I can’t quite understand. “Noah and I certainly aren’t hanging out at school. I’m the straight-A student who spends her days memorizing every single lyric of Taylor Swift’s ten-minute version of ‘All Too Well,’ while Noah is a heathen who spends his days burning schools down. We don’t exactly run in the same circles.”
“You only wish we did,” I murmur, earning a spectacular eye roll out of her.
“Would it really be so terrible if you did hang out?” Zoey’s mom suggests, taking a sip of wine. “I know there’s social circles and a hierarchy at high school that I can’t even begin to understand, but you guys don’t need to lower yourselves to those standards. Your friendship has spanned over your whole lives. Perhaps it’ll be good to reconnect, and instead of glaring at each other across my dining table, you could find comfort in one another like you used to.”
Zoey glances at her mother, and I watch her a little too closely, hating the way those bright green eyes seem to darken, unshed tears welling, but she refuses to allow them to fall. She shakes her head, this time not even bothering to spare me a glance. “That ship sailed a long time ago,” she murmurs before standing and clutching her plate. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m not very hungry.”
Zoey walks away, taking her plate with her, and I watch as she dumps it on the kitchen counter before hightailing it to the stairs and taking her ass back to her room. I listen to every step she takes until I hear the familiar sound of her bedroom door closing behind her.
A heaviness weighs down on my shoulders. I’m not going to lie, the idea of falling back into our old patterns and dragging her kicking and screaming back into my life fills me with the kind of elation that no man should ever be so lucky to possess. But she’s right, that ship sailed three long years ago. We can’t go back to how it used to be. Too much has changed. I broke her heart and tore her to shreds, and despite the way she holds her head up high, I can still see just how broken she is.
The rest of dinner passes in an uncomfortable silence, at least for me anyway. Mom and Erica hound Hazel about how she’s settling into middle school, and I curse myself for being so fucking self-centered that I didn’t even realize she was starting this year. I can’t help but think back to what Zoey said to me in the school bathroom, how my avoidance of her is also a punishment for Hazel, and seeing how grown up she’s become and how much of her life I’ve missed, I see just how right Zoey was.
The guilt eats at me, and after dinner, I make my way up the stairs. Music trickles from beneath Zoey’s closed door, but I slink right past it until I’m leaning in the open doorway of Hazel’s bedroom.
My gaze shifts around her room, taking it all in and realizing just how different Hazel is compared to Zoey at her age. There are makeup and hair products spread out from one end of the room to the other, but when Zoey was eleven years old, her room was filled with . . . me. Our photos were stuck up on the walls, and she had a collection of teddy bears I’d won for her at every fair we’d ever been to piled up in the corner.
Hazel relaxes back on her bed, holding her phone above her head, and from the sound of it, she’s listening to a makeup tutorial. Clearly not having noticed me in her doorway, I gently rap my knuckles on the frame and watch as her head snaps up.
Hazel peers at me from her bed, abandoning her phone on the blanket and sitting up, her gaze narrowing as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Well, well. If it isn’t Noah Ryan coming to beg for forgiveness,” she chides, proving that while she’s certainly very different from her big sister, there are also a lot of striking similarities. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Ha. Ha,” I say, laying the sarcasm on thick before pressing my lips into a hard line. “You hate me too, huh?”
Her gaze falls away, and sadness creeps into her eyes as she sits there, not knowing what to say.
I let out a breath and stride into her room, sliding her desk chair out and dropping onto it. I lean forward, bracing my elbows on my knees, not really knowing what to say either. “I’m really sorry, Hazel,” I tell her. “After Linc died, I didn’t know how to handle it. I still don’t, and I pushed away everything good in my life. I was drowning in my own grief. Linc was . . . you know. And Zoey—” I let out a breath, needing to figure out what I’m trying to say and how to explain something so complicated and deep to an eleven-year-old. “Your sister made me happy. She was everything good in my life, and I wasn’t ready to feel that happiness. The guilt I felt for even thinking about smiling when Linc was gone ate at me, so I pushed her away. I distanced myself from everyone without a thought about who I was hurting in the process.”
Hazel pulls her legs up on her bed, crosses them, and tugs the blanket over her lap, unable to look up and meet my stare. “I lost Linc too, you know?” she murmurs. “He was my best friend. You had Zoey, and I had Linc, then he was gone. But you were gone too, and Zoey was sad all the time, so I had no one.”
“I’m sorry, Hazel,” I tell her, probably one of the sincerest conversations I’ve had in over three years. “I was selfish. I was thinking about my own pain when I should have been thinking about all the people who needed me. I’ve hurt a lot of people over the past few years.”
“But you’re back now,” she says in a small voice, as if not quite sure, and honestly, I’m not sure either. “Things can go back to how they used to be.”
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “Like Zoey said at dinner, that ship sailed a while ago. I hurt her really badly, and to be honest, even if we were ready for it, I don’t know if I’m capable of making it up to her. But I promise, I won’t be a stranger to you. I’ve missed three years of your life, and if Linc was looking down on me, he’d be ready to kick my ass for allowing that to happen.”
“I can kick your ass for him,” Hazel suggests in all seriousness before a ridiculous grin stretches across her face, her eyes shining just the way Zoey’s used to.
“Oh really?” I laugh, feeling part of the darkness starting to chip away. I lean back in her desk chair, feeling the ease of our old friendship falling into place. “And how the hell do you think you’re going to do that? You’re all but three feet tall.”
“I am not,” she argues, and the music from Zoey’s room hitches a little higher as if trying to drown out our conversation.
I nod my head in Zoey’s general direction. “Does she do that a lot?”
“What? Listen to music so loud it bursts her eardrums? Yes. Just be happy she’s not screaming the songs at the top of her lungs like she usually does.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, feeling as though I’m getting a little insight into Zoey’s life for the first time in three years, something I lost the right to know, and fuck, it wasn’t until this very moment that I realize just how much I miss it. All the little things that make her happy, the things that put a smile on her face or make her feel content. I’ve been missing it all, and while I still know all the big things, there’s so much about her I don’t know anymore. She’s grown up without me, and that realization stings.
“Wanna know a secret?” I ask, feeling as though I don’t need to hide here, not with Hazel.
“Umm, yeah,” she says, slightly leaning forward as though she’s about to hear the gossip of the century.
I press my lips into a hard line, having known this since day one but never having the strength to actually say it out loud. “I miss her.”
Hazel scoffs, disappointment flashing in her eyes. “That’s your big secret?” she grunts, rolling her eyes and resting back against her headboard. “Anyone could have told you that. It was all but stamped across both of your foreheads at dinner. You’re so obvious that I’m going to change your name to Captain Obvious. Actually, what’s higher than a captain? Colonel? Colonel Obvious. Wait . . . that doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
Rolling my eyes, I kick my feet out and cross them at my ankles. “Alright, kid,” I say. “Catch me up on the Hazel James highlight reel from the past three years, and don’t spare any of the gory details.”