Chapter 14
NOAH
By the time I got home with Miles, my brain felt like it had been put through a blender.
Practice. Film. Trying on the jacket Em designed, all while she refused to look me in the eye. Quinn running his mouth about her date and how he wished she’d take him out. All of my repressed feelings stacked on top of the argument last night until my skull buzzed. I hated this. So. Much.
“Can we have mac and cheese?” Miles asked the second we walked in the door. He was extra grumpy today, and I couldn’t blame him. He could’ve been going off my mood, and I forced myself to calm down, forced Em to the back of my mind.
“You got it, buddy.” I ruffled his hair, the familiar pang of grief settling in my chest. Nat wouldn’t get to make him dinner ever again. She would miss all these things, and I wouldn’t. My throat closed up as he dropped his backpack on the floor, barely missing Sassy.
She wiggled her entire body, tail thumping, as she licked Miles everywhere. He laughed so hard, the joyous sound echoing off the kitchen, and damn, that laugh made me smile.
“She’s licking me! Look, Uncle Miles! Look!” He hugged her, closing his eyes as he giggled more and more when Sassy knocked him over and lay right on top of him. “Noah! Do you see this? She loves me! She loves me!”
“Sassy,” I said, raising my voice a bit. “Come on, girl. Leave the kid alone.”
She responded by thumping her tail twice, then went right back to licking Miles. “You must taste good or something.”
“She loves me.” The kid beamed, like Sassy licking him head to toe was the ultimate accomplishment. Note to self: once Em left, we were getting a dog.
The pang came back, hard and fast, at the thought of Em not living with us. It hadn’t been long, but I loved seeing her every single day. The idea that I wouldn’t… no. I couldn’t think about that now. “Alright, wash your hands and I’ll get dinner ready for all of us.”
Dinner was…fine.
Boxed mac, apple slices, and baby carrots he snuck to the dog.
Sassy had found her easiest target and plopped down, staring at the kid with large brown puppy-dog eyes.
Miles was a sucker, and I pretended not to notice how his carrots disappeared so fast. The place was too quiet.
Em would engage Miles with these stories and have him answer questions, like “give me the name of a tree monster” and then she’d take it and run.
I missed her energy, her presence, and I hated that she was on a damn date.
After dinner, we did the bedtime routine. Bath, pajamas, toothbrushing, the whole chaotic circus. Sassy stayed glued to us, pacing in the hallway any time we passed the front door.
“You’re restless tonight too, huh?” I asked her as I wrestled Miles into bed. “Join the club.”
“Dad—Uncle Miles,” Miles mumbled as I tucked the blanket around him. “Can Aunt Em say good night when she gets home?”
Ugh, the use of the word dad got me. He left Nat when she was pregnant, not wanting a single thing to do with Nat or Miles. When I pressed her on who he was, she never said, just that he’d never be part of Miles’s life. That was another convo I’d have to be ready to have when Miles asked.
I rubbed my neck, hoping to ease some tension.
“If she’s not too late, sure.”
He nodded, half-asleep already. “I really like her and Sassy.”
Me too, kid.
I sat on the edge of his bed for a minute, rubbing his back, letting his soft snores and the white noise machine fill the room. My brain switched from parent mode to full-out Em stress.
My head wouldn’t shut up.
Every time I blinked, I repeated the words.
You really are such a good friend, Noah.
Friend.
Right.
I tucked the blanket around Miles, smoothing it over his little Avengers pajama shirt.
He snored softly, mouth open. On the wall above him, he had his posters—superheroes, Pikachu, a game-day shot of me throwing, and right between them, the picture of him and Em from the zoo.
She had sunglasses pushed on top of her head and was laughing at something he’d said.
A little crease was at the corner of her eye I’d never noticed until that photo.
Now I couldn’t stop seeing it when I thought about her.
I turned off the lamp and eased the door almost shut.
Sassy was waiting in the hallway, ears perked toward the front door, whole body alert.
“She’s not here yet,” I told her quietly. Sassy gave a low whine.
“Yeah,” I muttered, rubbing her head. “I know.”
I tried to do the responsible thing and focus on film. That was what I was supposed to care about. Third downs. Blitz pickups. Footwork. The stuff that kept me employed.
I pulled up the tablet, sat on the couch, and hit play on last week’s game. Ran through the first series, then backed it up and ran it again. I made it maybe two snaps before my phone lit up on the coffee table, and my eyes jumped straight to it.
Group chat blowing up about some meme. Nothing from her.
I rewound, tried again. Watched myself slide in the pocket, hit Quinn on a deep out. Thought about the way Quinn had looked at Em when she said she had a date. Thought about the way I probably looked.
The screen blurred. I scrubbed a hand over my face and forced myself to concentrate. By the third time through the drive, I still hadn’t absorbed a damn thing.
All I could hear was her voice from last night in the kitchen.
Then why didn’t you text me after the Ferris wheel?
I could give a thousand excuses. None of them sounded good, even in my own head.
My head wouldn’t shut up. How could I explain to her, in a way that she’d believe me, that I’d wanted to text her? That’d I’d been busy and nervous, and that I waited too long before time got away from me, then I second-guessed myself. But then the lake house trip and my sister’s accident happened.
My actions made her doubt herself, and I refused to let that happen. She was perfect—chaotic, sure, but Em was my favorite person in the world. I had no idea how to fix this, whatever happened, but I had to try.
Nine o’clock came and went, still no sign of Em. My stomach physically ached. What date took four hours? Unless they went back to his place?
God. I hoped not. Em was a grown woman, but fuck, picturing her with another dude pierced like a stab wound.
I put the tablet down and tried a puzzle with too many tiny pieces. Couldn’t focus. The half-finished outline on the coffee table mocked me.
I flipped through channels. Baseball game. Some cooking show. Rom-com halfway through where the guy chased the girl through an airport.
Hard pass.
I made a cup of tea I didn’t drink. Cleaned the kitchen. Double-checked Miles. Scrolled through my phone like a loser, staring at our last text thread.
Noah: You sure? I’m right by your favorite place.
Em: Toallty sure! Seriously, I’m good. See you later!
The little smiley face she’d added earlier that morning now felt like a punch.
Now she was out with some software engineer who probably had normal parents and no public job and zero complicated history with her.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and told myself to get a grip.
She deserved to date. She deserved to have nights out and people buying her drinks and telling her she was brilliant and beautiful and enough.
I hated that the guy wasn’t me.
A little after ten, I texted her. I told myself it was to check in, to make sure she was safe. Responsible friend behavior.
Noah: Hope your date’s going well. Shoot me a thumbs-up to let me know you’re safe, please?
The message sat there. No bubbles appeared.
Maybe she’d left her phone in her purse. Maybe she was in a cab. Maybe she was making out with that guy in a dark corner of some bar, his hands on her waist where mine wanted to be—
I shot up off the couch and started pacing.
“Sassy,” I said, because she was the only audience I had. “She’s fine, right?”
Her tail thumped before she rolled over, clearly tired of my bullshit.
I tried not to picture Em’s outfit. Tried not to imagine how that navy blouse would look under dim bar lighting, how that winged liner would make her eyes even bigger, how her laugh would sound over music.
Sometime around ten thirty, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it so fast I nearly dropped it.
Em:
That was it. One little thumbs-up. It should’ve been enough. She was safe, fine, still alive. The rational part of my brain relaxed.
The rest of me…not so much.
Just got back to his place? Still out? With him?
I put the phone down, anxiety and fear and worry all intertwining into a horrible combination.
“Okay,” I said to myself. “You are not seventeen. You are a grown-ass man. You’ll be cool. You’ll be normal.”
Sassy trotted over and parked herself directly in front of the door.
“Traitor,” I muttered, forcing myself to watch TV mindlessly.
The key turned in the lock a little after eleven.
My heart slammed into my ribs. I tried to look casual on the couch, like I hadn’t been staring at the door for the last five hours.
Sassy exploded into motion, nails skittering, whole back end wagging like her spine might snap from the enthusiasm.
The door opened. Em stepped in, juggling her purse and keys, hair a little mussed from the night air. She wore the same outfit from this morning, blazer draped over one arm, cheeks flushed like she’d walked fast or laughed hard or both.
My throat went dry. I liked being the one to make her laugh.
“Hi,” she whispered to Sassy first, dropping her stuff and immediately crouching to wrap her arms around the dog. “Oh my gosh, hi, I missed you. Did you have a good night?”
Sassy whined like someone had come back from war. Em buried her face in the fur for a second, shoulders sagging. Something about the way she melted into the dog, the tiny wince she didn’t quite hide when she straightened, sent a bolt of worry through me.
“Hey,” I said, standing because sitting felt weird. “You’re back.”
Smooth, Abbott. Really nailing the human interaction.
She startled, like she hadn’t seen me there, then pasted on a smile that hit me in the gut.