29. Noah - August
TWENTY-NINE
Noah - August
SATURN - SLEEPING AT LAST
There was a faint creak of footsteps on the porch, followed by a small knock.
Dotty arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a bemused grin. “Come in!” she called.
The door creaked open, revealing Dorian and Gracie. His shoulders were slumped, lips pressed into a thin line, and a shadow of worry clouded his brown eyes. Gracie clung to his shirt, peeking out from behind him.
He stepped aside, gently guiding Gracie into the room ahead of him.
Gracie stayed close to him. Her usual energy was missing, replaced by a muted stillness that felt out of place for her.
I caught his eye and mouthed, “Bad day?”
His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded once, his movements slower than usual. The tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.
Dotty rose from the couch, crossing the room with a calm, reassuring presence. She crouched in front of Gracie. “Hey, sweet girl. How was the party?”
Gracie shrugged, her fingers playing with the frayed edge of her bear’s ear. Her focus stayed downward, avoiding Dotty’s eyes.
Dorian reached out, his fingers grazing her hair before dropping his hand to his side. “It wasn’t the best day,” he said, his words careful. “But we all have bad days sometimes,” he said, looking at Gracie.
“G,” Dotty said, smiling gently, “want to come with me and get your room set up for tonight?”
“Okay,” Gracie replied.
Dotty and Gracie disappeared down the hallway, leaving Dorian and me alone in the living room.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He raked his hands through his hair. “She was so excited this morning. I’m not sure what happened to make her go quiet since the birthday party. She won’t talk about it.”
I could hear the frustration in his tone, each word dipped in worry. His eyes were tired—the kind of exhaustion that came from not just lack of sleep, but the helplessness of a father who couldn’t reach his daughter.
“We have lots of fun plans, so hopefully that will cheer her up,” I replied, and he pulled me into an unfortunately quick hug.
Gracie and Dotty appeared, and I stumbled back quickly. Dotty’s eyes locked onto mine, but then she glanced at Gracie.
“Hey, G. What do you think? Cupcakes or a movie first?” I asked, trying to coax something out of her.
“Cupcakes, I guess…” Her words were barely audible.
“Good choice,” I said, offering a smile.
Dorian wrapped Gracie in a brief hug before heading out, looking back a few times before the door shut behind him. I watched him go, a strange mix of relief and longing tangling in my chest.
For the next hour, we stayed in the kitchen. The sweet smell of vanilla frosting filled the air as Gracie sat at the counter, her small hands carefully adding dollops of frosting to each cupcake. Sprinkles—vibrant pinks, yellows, and blues—scattered across the counter, some sticking to her fingers as she worked. The frosting smeared in delicate, uneven layers, and a few stray sprinkles spilled off the cupcakes. Gracie’s brow furrowed in concentration, but there was something distant in her expression, like her mind wasn’t fully here, lost somewhere I couldn’t quite place.
Dotty filled the silence with stories from her own childhood, her laughter light and infectious as she joked about things that happened years ago. She even mimicked her younger self, crossing her eyes for a moment to make us laugh. But Gracie didn’t seem to notice. She stayed quiet, her shoulders slumped, and her gaze fixed on the cupcakes in front of her as though they held all her thoughts. The more Dotty tried to coax her out of it, the more withdrawn Gracie became, her silence louder than anything Dotty said.
After we’d decorated the last of the cupcakes, the kitchen heavy with the sweetness of frosting and the crumbs from our own indulgence, Dotty looked between Gracie and me. She stood with her hands on her hips, her brow raised in thought.
“All that sugar… we should probably have something real to eat. How does pizza sound?” Dotty asked, trying to keep the energy light.
Gracie barely reacted. Her shoulders gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, still lost in whatever thoughts she was keeping to herself.
“Pizza sounds perfect,” I said. “Want me to order?”
“No, I’ll go pick it up. Delivery would take forever at this hour.”
“Sounds good. We’ll be here,” I replied.
Dotty hesitated for a moment, her expression gentle as she looked at Gracie. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
“We’ll be fine,” I said. “Go get the pizza. Maybe a little extra cheese will help.”
Dotty didn’t seem fully convinced, but after grabbing her keys from the counter, she gave us a small wave.
“Alright, I’ll be back soon.” The door clicked shut behind her. The oven’s hum and the ticking clock was the only sounds filling the silence.
Gracie sat at the kitchen table, her legs dangling off the chair, swinging back and forth absentmindedly. She hadn’t said much all night, only answering in one-word responses, and my heart ached knowing what was weighing so heavily on her.
With Dotty gone, I decided to try again, hoping that the quiet would give Gracie the space she needed to open up.
“You know, Gracie,” I began, crouching down so I was at her eye level, “if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m always here to listen.”
She shifted uncomfortably, her little fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Okay…”
I waited patiently. Gracie’s eyes peered up to meet mine, full of hesitation. “But… will you tell my Aunt Dotty or my dad?” she asked, her voice small, but loaded with concern.
“That depends,” I replied. “If it’s about keeping you safe, I might have to tell your dad, but if it’s something else, my lips are sealed.”
I made an exaggerated motion of zipping my lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. That earned me a tiny smile from her, but it quickly faded.
She hesitated, staring down at her shoes. “My…” I waited, giving her time to gather her thoughts. Her voice wavered as she spoke again. “My friend Candace… she wasn’t very nice to me today.”
A cold knot formed in my stomach when I saw the expression on Gracie’s face. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
I gently cupped her chin and lifted her face so she would meet my eyes. Her focus faltered, as though she wasn’t sure if she was ready to look at me, but I could see the silent plea in her expression.
“What did she say?”
She sniffled. “She said I’m not smart.” Her bottom lip turned down. “And that it’s weird that I don’t have a mommy.” Each word came out as if it hurt to say it.
A sharp, aching pain stabbed through my heart, and I wanted to grab her, hold her tight, and never let go. But instead, I stayed there, frozen, my heart breaking into a thousand pieces.
“No one should ever say that to you,” I said, my throat tight. My breathing felt shallow.
Gracie let out a shaky exhale, her shoulders slumping, defeated. “I’m not good at anything,” she mumbled. “And I don’t have a mommy like all the other kids. It’s just Daddy… I love him, but sometimes I wish I had a mommy too.”
“Oh, Gracie.” I sucked in a shaky breath, fighting back the pinch at the bridge of my nose. “None of that is true,” I whispered urgently. “Hey, listen to me.” I brushed a tear off her cheek. “You’re amazing at drawing, remember? That’s something special. You’re so creative and kind, and you’ve got a heart that makes everyone around you want to be better.” My own tears started to well. “You don’t need to be like anyone else. You’re perfect just as you are.”
But it didn’t seem to reach her. She didn’t respond, only stared at the floor as if she didn’t believe me. The silence was suffocating, and the ache in my chest deepened.
“I’m sorry, Noah,” she said suddenly, her words so soft it almost broke me. “I don’t want to make you sad too.”
I blinked, surprised.
“No, Gracie, no,” I said urgently, taking her hands in mine. “You’re not making me sad. I just… I just hate that anyone made you feel like this.”
Gracie pulled back, her face still trembling with emotion. “But she’s right. I’m not good at reading… and… and”—she let out a small hiccup—“everyone else has a mommy but me.” Her eyes met mine, searching my face for any sign of reassurance. “If I don’t have a mommy, does that mean no one will love me like that?” Her words cracked as they left her lips, and it felt like my heart splintered in a dozen places.
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure, but the lump in my throat made it hard to speak. “You have so many people who love you. Your daddy loves you more than anything. You have your Aunt Dotty, all your uncles, and your papa. And you have me too, G. We all love you, and that’s what matters.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and I could see the confusion and uncertainty still clouding her face.
“Do you…” She paused, twisting a strand of her blonde hair before looking back to me. “Do you think you could maybe be my mommy? I know my Aunt Dotty can’t be my mommy and she has Uncle Trent now, but I think if I asked my daddy really nice, maybe he would be okay with it?”
I thought my heart couldn’t possibly fracture anymore, but I was wrong. The question hit me harder than any blow I could’ve imagined. It was as if the floor shifted beneath my feet, and I was no longer standing on solid ground. I wanted to say yes, to wrap her in my arms and tell her I’d be everything she needed, but the truth felt heavier than I could carry.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at her, my heart shattering. She was so innocent, so full of hope, and the thought of letting her down felt unbearable.
“Oh, sweet girl,” I said, gently cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing away another tear that slipped down through her lashes. “That’s such a big, important thing to ask.” I swallowed hard. “I would be the luckiest person in the world if I could, but being your mommy… it’s not something we can decide like that.”
My heart felt like it had been ripped from me as her face fell, her bottom lip quivering again. I quickly added, “But hey, look at me.” I tipped her chin up gently. “I’m always here for you, okay?” I paused, my own tears falling down my cheek. “If you ever want someone to talk, I’m always here for you.”
“But… I don’t want you to go away,” she said. She was just a child who didn’t understand the complexities of love or loss but felt them all the same. “I want you here. Always. Like… like when you’re around, it feels like everything’s better.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to hold back the tears, but it was impossible. They spilled over, unbidden, and I let them fall.
“I’m not going anywhere, Gracie,” I promised. “This town and the people in it”—I tapped her little button nose—“have convinced me to stay.”
She looked up at me again, her expression filled with longing, and I realized how much pain she was carrying. How much she placed on her tiny shoulders.
“Do you like my daddy, though?”
I froze. The question took me by surprise, the raw, innocent hope in her words making my chest ache even more.
I didn’t know how to answer. How could I tell her that it wasn’t that simple? There was no doubt I cared about Dorian, but I didn’t want to give her any false hope.
Instead, I squeezed her hand. “I care about your dad a lot,” I said, my voice cracking. “I don’t know what the future holds. But what I do know is that I’m here for you, no matter what.”
Her face softened, but I could see the sadness still lingering in her features. Yet, for the first time in our conversation, there was the tiniest bit of relief in her expression.
“Do you think maybe one day… you could marry my daddy?” she asked, looking down again, her shoulders slumping. “That way you could be my mommy?”
“Family isn’t just about the people who love us, Gracie. It’s not always about titles or names. It’s about showing up for each other, being there when it matters. No matter what, you’ll always have people who love you, including me.”
Gracie nodded slightly, her expression still sad but lighter now, and I hoped that meant she was beginning to accept the love that was around her.
And though I couldn’t give her the answers she wanted, the only thing I could offer her was my presence, my love. And hope that was enough.
She sniffled again, but this time it wasn’t full of the heartbreak from earlier. Her small hand reached up to pat my cheek as if trying to comfort me too. We stayed like that for a few more moments, just the two of us, until I felt her relax against me, her breathing evening out as the weight of her little world seemed to ease a bit. Finally, Gracie gave me a small, tentative smile, her eyes still red but showing a spark of something more hopeful.
I found myself thinking about what she said, about what it meant for her to feel like I could be part of her family. And as much as my heart ached at the impossibility of what she wanted, a small, undeniable part of me wished I could let go of my fears and explore the possibility of something more with Dorian. Even if we’d agreed to keep things casual, every moment with him felt anything but casual.
But for now, I simply held her, my heart full and breaking all at once, and whispered, “I’ll always be here for you, Gracie. Always.”
Just then, Dotty returned with the pizza, the aroma filling the room as she set it down on the table. Gracie’s face was a little brighter, the corners of her mouth lifting as she saw the pizza.
Her earlier tension started to melt away. She bounced back to life as Dotty placed the boxes on the table, and we eagerly dug into our dinner, laughing and sharing bites between conversations.
The evening unfolded comfortably, a mix of lighthearted chatter and quiet moments. We ate and made bracelets—Gracie beaming as she picked out the beads, her hands steady as she worked on her creation. It was the perfect sleepover in the warm space of the living room.
Walker padded over to nudge Gracie’s hand, earning a giggle as she gave him a quick pat before he flopped down at her feet.
Eventually, we settled into sleeping bags on the floor in front of the TV, the soft glow of the screen casting gentle shadows across the room. Gracie fell asleep first, clutching her stuffed bear, and soon Dotty’s quiet snores joined the mix, the comfort of the moment lulling me into sleep as well.