30. Noah
30
Noah
T he playground looks empty as I pull to a stop and cut the engine. I gaze out over the steering wheel, finding Zoey perched on one of the swings like she used to when we were kids. She doesn’t glance up, and as I watch her, it’s clear she’s lost in thought. She grips the chains on either side with one foot planted on the ground as she slowly rocks back and forth.
I’ve caught her like this a few times this week, and every time it always comes down to the same thing—Tarni Luca.
It’s been almost a week since their fallout in the school cafeteria, and while Tarni has been silent and kept her distance as the school’s newest outcast, she clearly hasn’t been cut up about it. But Zoey hasn’t stopped hurting. Her heart is too big for her own good.
Making my way to the playground, I slip around the back of the swings and come up behind her, my hands coming down on her shoulders. “Stop thinki—”
Zoey screams, leaping from the swing, her eyes wide as she whips around with her fists up, ready to take me out. All I can do is laugh as she realizes it’s just me. “Holy shit, Noah,” she breathes, bracing her hands against her thighs and taking slow, deep breaths. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
I arch a brow, standing back and watching as she tries to get control of her breathing. “Were you going to punch me?”
“Damn straight,” she says. “Your ass was about to get laid out. You’re just lucky I saw you before I started swinging.” She cuts through the swings and steps right into me, pushing up onto her tippy toes to kiss me as my arms circle her waist. “You know, only a man with a death wish sneaks up on a girl like that.”
“I figured you heard me coming,” I tell her. “My car isn’t exactly quiet.”
She pulls a face, almost embarrassed because she knows I’m right. “How’d you know where to find me, anyway?”
“Lucky guess,” I say with a shrug.
“Try again,” she says, pulling out of my arms and arching a brow, knowing damn well I’m lying.
“Okay fine,” I say with a groan, not surprised to see just how well she’s able to read me. “I swung by your place and your dad said you’d gone out, and seeing as though Hazel was still at home, your car was in the driveway, and you kinda don’t have any friends, it narrowed down the options.”
She lets out a heavy sigh, her bottom lip jutting out, and I know it has everything to do with my comment about her friends. “She really hates me.”
I step back into her, pulling her into my arms again and dropping a kiss to her temple. “She does,” I say, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “But that’s because she’s a spiteful bitch who can’t see past her own wants and needs to the people around her. She doesn’t deserve your tears, Zo. You’ve given her ten years of friendship, and she’s going to throw it away over jealousy.”
She lets out a heavy breath, not willing to let it go just yet, so I go on, more than ready to drive my point home. “She was there, Zo. She saw us as kids. She watched from the sidelines as we fell head over heels in love with each other. She knows how happy you are when we’re together. If she’s the kind of person who wants to stand in the way of your happiness, then she was never a good friend to you,” I tell her. “She’s never had your best interests at heart. I saw it the very first day I met her, and I just hate that it’s taken this long for her to show you her true colors.”
“It just . . . It hurts,” she whispers, letting out a heavy sigh.
“I know it does,” I say, my hands rubbing up and down her arms. “But soon it’ll fade, and you’ll realize you never needed her.”
“Let me guess,” she says, her chin tilting up to meet my stare. “Because I have everything I need right here?”
“Wow,” I tease. “Whoever said you weren’t a fast learner?”
She rolls her eyes, but I grab her hand, pulling her back toward my car. “Come on,” I say, “I want you to come somewhere with me.”
Her brows furrow, but she allows me to pull her along, stepping into my side as we make our way back to my car. “Where are we going?” she asks as I open the door for her, knowing how my mom would clip me over the back of the head if I weren’t the perfect gentleman.
“Linc’s grave,” I tell her, watching for her response. “I haven’t been since the funeral.”
Her eyes widen. “You haven’t?”
My lips press into a hard line, and I shake my head, almost embarrassed by my admission. “I’ve never known what to do if I went or what to say. I’ve had this fucked-up vision stuck in my head that he’d claw out of there like some shitty zombie movie and try to drag me back down with him.”
Zo gives me a blank stare. “You know, he probably would just to screw with you.”
“I’m more than aware.”
Zoey laughs and settles into her seat as I close the door and make my way around to the driver’s side. I’m kicking over the engine when a smirk stretches across Zoey’s lips, and she swivels in her seat to look at me. “Okay, so you should probably know that Hazel leaves letters for him all the time, and I, umm . . .” She cringes, and I raise my brow, waiting to hear what’s about to fly out of her mouth. “I kinda respond to them as Linc, so she’s convinced he’s actually coming back from the dead to write her letters.”
I gape at her in shock, but I’m also a little impressed she’s been able to keep this going for three years without Hazel being the least bit suspicious. “You have to tell her.”
“Hell no, I don’t. It’ll crush her.”
“Zoey Erica James.”
“Noah McFunPolice Ryan.”
I let out a sigh, knowing a lost cause when it’s staring me in the face. “What are you writing to her?”
“Nothing that will get me in trouble,” she admits. “It started out innocent. I went to his grave a few days after Mom and Hazel had been, and I saw the letter and couldn’t help reading it. Then I was sitting there for a while and thought maybe it was a good idea to leave him a message too, so I flipped her letter over and wrote I miss you on the back, and next thing I knew I was walking in the door after school and Hazel was running up to me saying that Linc had responded. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was me. Then it just got a little out of control from there.”
“How out of control?”
“Like, almost once a week,” she says sheepishly. “But I always keep it short and sweet. Like when she needs someone to tell her that she’s doing okay or when she needs guidance. Though I may have used it to my advantage when she was crushing on this asshole kid at school by suggesting that Linc thought he was a piece of shit.”
A wide grin stretches across my face, and I reach over the center console to take her hand, feeling more at peace every day. Talking about Linc used to be so fucking hard that I would crumble, and now . . . I find myself welcoming it. Even needing it.
“Soooo . . . If I have to be on trial, then so do you,” Zoey says.
I narrow my stare on her, glancing at her for a moment before looking back at the road. “Yes?” I question, unsure why I feel so nervous.
“Okay, I’ve been dying to know, but I didn’t want to seem like the gossipy type, but if you don’t tell me, I think I might go insane,” she starts, pausing for a second and watching me as if still debating if she’s going to ask or not. “The other week at your first game of the season, what the hell did you say to Shannan that got her to fade out of existence?”
I laugh. “Really? That’s the big question that’s been plaguing your pretty little mind?”
“Uh . . . yeah.”
“Who would have known that Zoey James was so nosey?”
“You, Noah,” she says bluntly. “You knew that.”
I grin. Yeah, I did.
“Okay, fine,” I finally say, sparing her a quick glance. “So, despite the semester only just starting, Shannan was already failing a few classes and had been skipping enough to get the principal’s attention. Then during my week of lunchtime detentions with Daniels, I overheard that she’d been offering some of her teachers sexual favors for better grades.”
Her mouth drops, and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on the road. “You’re lying,” she gasps, her eyes widening. “Tell me you’re lying.”
“I don’t lie,” I tell her.
Zoey scoffs. “I have literally sat with you and helped you come up with lies before.”
I smirk. “Okay, fine. I lie occasionally, but I’m not lying now.”
“Holy crap,” she breathes. “That is some juicy gossip.”
“Zo,” I warn.
“I know. My lips are sealed, but I’m not going to lie, it’s nice knowing I have that little bit of information in my back pocket to save for a rainy day,” she says before fixing me with a hard stare. “Now, are we going to pretend you didn’t just gloss over the week of lunchtime detentions? Care to share?”
I laugh and shake my head. “I can’t tell you all my secrets now, can I?”
Zoey rolls her eyes but falls silent as I pull into the main entrance of East View Cemetery. My hands start to shake on the wheel as a lump forms in my throat, and I try to hide how hard it is to breathe. Undeniable guilt washes over me for not having been here since Linc’s funeral, but if I didn’t have Zoey here with me, I wouldn’t have the strength to go further than the front gates.
“It’s okay,” she tells me. “You can do this.”
I hold her stare for a moment before letting out a deep breath and hitting the gas.
East View Cemetery is huge, and since I haven’t been here for so long, Zoey has to give me directions. Then all too soon, she’s telling me to pull over. My hands never stop shaking, not when I get out of the car, and not when Zoey falls into my side and takes my hand in hers.
We walk through the manicured grass, and a part of me is glad to see how well this cemetery has been looked after. Every single tombstone is sparkling, and despite the many trees lining the rows of graves, there’s not a single fallen leaf lingering on the ground.
Zoey leads me through the rows of graves, going the long way around to be respectful and not cut across any of them. When she slows, her gaze bounces up to meet mine. “He’s just over here,” she murmurs before pointing to the familiar grave a few places down.
My gaze locks on to it, reading over the words on his tombstone.
In loving memory
Lincoln Alexander Ryan
05/31/2011–07/19/2021
Beloved son, brother & best friend
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, blowing out a shaky breath as I drag my hand down my face. Reading those words hurts so bad.
Unable to focus on the tombstone a second longer, I drop my gaze to the handful of things scattered at the bottom. There’s a plastic folder that’s almost overflowing with papers, and I can only assume they’re the letters Hazel writes to Linc. There’s a photo of the four of us—my family—Mom, Dad, me, and Linc. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that photo, but I remember the day it was taken. It feels like a lifetime ago. There’s a second frame holding the same photo that lingers on Linc’s desk in his room. Me, Zoey, Hazel, and Linc, only the words the four musketeers are etched into the frame, and it brings a smile to my lips.
Fresh flowers rest on his grave next to a football and his jersey from middle school with his name and number on the back—a jersey he earned during tryouts but never got the chance to use. Pride swirls through my chest. This is exactly how he would have wanted it.
“Who brought all this stuff?” I ask Zoey as she gazes down at Linc’s grave, a fondness shining in her tear-filled eyes.
“Everybody,” she tells me. “Your mom brings fresh flowers every week, and I’ve seen your dad here a few times. I’m not sure how often he comes by, but I’m pretty sure he was the one who left the football and jersey.”
“And the pictures?”
“Me and Hazel,” she tells me. “She wanted to leave the one of the four of us and wrote about us being the four musketeers, but I never really understood that. And I left your family photo because—”
She trails off, and I inch closer, tugging on her hand and pulling her into my side. “Because?” I prompt.
Her hand comes up, and she discreetly wipes her eyes. “Because I knew you weren’t visiting him, and I wanted Linc to remember how much you loved him, and if for some reason he wasn’t able to look over you, then he’d be able to remember your face here.”
My heart shatters, and I drop my lips to her temple, pressing a lingering kiss, not willing to pull away so soon. “God, Zo. I don’t deserve you.”
She lets out a breath and presses her hand to my chest, her chin tilting up to meet my stare. “Did you want to talk to him?”
“I . . .” I pause, caught off guard. “I don’t know what I would even say.”
“Just tell him about your life. How you’ve been doing, how much you miss him and wish he were here. Tell him about the guilt you’ve felt and the struggles you’ve had trying to navigate the darkness. Tell him you’re sorry that you haven’t been the man you wanted to be over the past three years. He’ll want to know that you’re trying to do better, and when in doubt, tell him about your shenanigans with Hazel or how football has been going.”
The pressure drops down on my shoulders, and the nerves become almost unbearable when Zoey steps out of my arms and walks right up to the edge of his grave. She bends down and grabs the plastic folder filled with Hazel’s letters before clutching it to her chest. “I’ll be over at the car,” she tells me. “Unless you want me to stay.”
I give it thought, warring back and forth with my options before giving a slight shake of my head. “I’ll be alright,” I tell her, needing to find the strength to face this, to be the brother Linc always thought I was.
Zoey gives me a small smile before slipping away, and before I know it, I’m down on the grass in front of his grave, my gaze locked on the inscription written on the granite tombstone. I sit for a few minutes, having no idea where to start, but the second I do, the words seem to flow.
“Shit, Linc. You’d be so fucking ashamed of me,” I tell him. “I think the day you died, I died right along with you. Only I was stuck here, living like a fucking ghost, barely going through the motions. I fucked up everything. Hurt everybody just to try and escape the guilt, but nothing ever helped. I miss you, bro. I fucking miss you so bad, it hurts. Every. Fucking. Day. I should never have told you to go home that day. If I knew . . . I never would—” I stop abruptly, unable to say the words out loud, not to him at least. “I should have been a better brother, Linc. All you ever did was want to spend time with me, and I was so fucking selfish. I should have given you the time you needed or threw the fucking ball with you more. I always told you that I’d teach you how to ride a dirt bike, and we never got to do that. There are so many things I never got to teach you, and I hate myself for letting you down like that.”
I let out a breath, needing a second before I continue. “It’s been three years already, and I’m so ashamed of myself for not visiting you until now. I wasn’t strong enough, but Zoey is bringing me back to life. She’s breathing oxygen into my veins and keeping me going, and while I finally feel as though I can see a way out of the darkness, it also makes me feel guilty. How fucking dare I be happy and have love when you—fuck. You’ll never get to have those things, and I know you would have had them all. You and Hazel would have been just like me and Zoey, and maybe if you were still here, you would have already realized that she was it for you. Or maybe it would have taken you another few years. She’s only eleven, a few months older than you were when you—” I pause again.
“Hazel misses you. It’s different for her than it is for me and Zo. You were her best friend. There wasn’t a single thing that happened in her life that she didn’t run to tell you about. And even though I pushed Zo away for the last three years, I’ve leaned hard on the dream that I’d be good enough for her again one day—because nothing is as final as death. Hazel . . . When she lost you, she didn’t just lose her best friend, she lost every possibility of the life you two may have had, and I know she feels that loss every single day. I’m trying to be there for her, trying to be that friend she needs, but it’s not the same.
“I really hope you’re up there somewhere, watching over us all,” I continue. “Mom puts on a brave face, but I’ve put her through the worst kind of hell, and most days, I think she’s on the brink of falling apart. She holds herself together for me though, and for a while, I think I needed that, but now it’s time for me to be the man she needs me to be. I won’t let her down anymore, Linc. I’ll carry the burden on my shoulders. I promise, I won’t put her through it anymore, but she could really use a sign from you, anything just to let her know you’re still here.”
My elbows brace against my knees, and I tip my face into my hands, needing a moment to calm myself and find control. “That day . . . finding you like that on the ground. You have no idea how much I wished you would just move, just get up and walk it off like you always would. Hell, we used to play rough all the fucking time. I used to put your head through walls, and you’d just shake it off, but not this time. I’ll never get the image out of my head, Linc. It haunts me. Every time I close my eyes, I see you just lying there, staring lifelessly, and it makes me wish I could trade places with you. I would have done anything to be able to save you from that. I would have laid my life down for you, Linc. You had so much to live for.”
My voice cracks on that last one, and I let my words fade away, just sitting there as the shadow from Linc’s tombstone slowly moves from one side to the other. I’ve never once allowed myself to cry, to feel the overwhelming grief break me like that. Not the day he died, not even at his funeral. I always needed to be strong for Mom and Zoey, they were counting on me, but here, sitting with him now, just me and my brother, the tears finally come.
I let the guilt fade from my veins and blow away into the sunny Arizona sky, leaving me feeling refreshed and at ease for the first time since racing down that road and finding his lifeless body.
Then when Zoey starts walking back toward me after sitting and waiting in my car for what must have been hours, I let out a breath and get back to my feet. “I love you, Linc. I promise I won’t be a stranger.”
Zoey reaches me a moment later, lays the plastic folder of letters back where she found it, and steps right into my arms. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, glancing back at the photo of the four musketeers one last time, my chest filling with a bittersweet joy. “I’m okay.”