Chapter 18 #2
“Our dad died first,” I said, my voice softer now. “Cancer. It was ugly and slow and one of those things where everyone knows what’s happening, but nobody says it out loud until they absolutely have to.”
Wheels’ expression didn’t change, but his eyes stayed on me.
“He was sick for almost two years. Mom did everything she could. I was in college. Novalea was still in high school.” I stared at the alley wall across from me.
“I came home every weekend. Sometimes during the week too. I told myself I was helping Mom, but mostly I think I just needed to see him. To make sure he was still there.”
Wheels reached across the small space between us and rested his hand on my knee.
Just there. Steady.
I covered his hand with mine. “He died in March,” I said. “It rained that whole week. I remember being so mad about it. Like the weather had no right to be dramatic when we were already dealing with enough.”
“Sounds fair.”
“It was not rational.”
“Grief isn’t.”
I looked at him. His voice was quiet, matter-of-fact. Not pitying.
That made it easier to keep going.
“Mom held it together for Novalea and me after that. Or at least, I thought she did. She went back to work. Paid bills. Made sure Novalea got to school. Asked me about college like she still cared about my stupid classes.” I swallowed.
“Three years later, she had a heart attack. No warning. No slow goodbye. Just... gone.”
Wheels’ thumb brushed once against my knee.
I looked down at his hand. “After that, it was me and Novalea.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-four.”
I let out a small laugh and keep talking. “Novalea was twenty and old enough that technically she didn’t need raising. Young enough that she absolutely did.”
Wheels nodded slowly.
“I sort of stepped into it without deciding to,” I said. “Bills. Insurance. Paperwork. Funeral stuff. House stuff. Reminding her to eat. Making sure she finished school. Making sure she didn’t fall apart. Or maybe making sure I didn’t.” I looked toward the end of the alley. “She hated it.”
“You taking care of her?”
“Me acting like I had to.” I smiled, but it hurt a little. “Novalea is soft in some ways, but she’s not weak. She tells me that all the time. She says, ‘Goldie, you don’t have to parent me. I already had parents.’”
Wheels’ mouth twitched. “She sounds mouthy.”
“She is.” I looked back at him. “You’d like her.”
“Probably.”
“She teaches fifth grade now.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”
I nodded, and this time my smile came easier. “She loves it. Always loved kids. Even when we were younger, she was the one babysitting, helping cousins with homework, volunteering at summer programs. I used to tease her that she had the patience of a saint.”
“Does she?”
“With kids, yes.” I lifted one shoulder. “With me, no.”
“Smart woman.”
I narrowed my eyes.
He took a drink of coffee, looking far too innocent.
“She spends her own money on classroom supplies,” I said.
“Cries at every graduation, even though the fifth-grade graduation is basically kids walking across a gym floor while parents clap. She knows which kid needs extra snacks, which one hates reading out loud, which one is going home to a house that isn’t easy.
” The words caught a little in my throat. “She notices everything.”
“Runs in the family.”
I looked at him. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
I breathed out slowly.
That was the problem.
Novalea noticed everything, and I had been keeping the biggest thing in my life from her. “I haven’t told her any of this,” I admitted.
“The Ledger?”
I shook my head. “None of it.”
Wheels didn’t react, and that made me feel worse.
“I know that sounds bad.”
“It sounds like you were trying to protect her.”
“I was.” My fingers tightened around his. “I am. She’s my sister, Wheels. She’s all I have left.”
His eyes softened.
“And if I called her and told her people were threatening me and I found documents tying half the city to some secret organization, she’d want to help. She’d show up. She’d ask questions. She’d get herself involved because she thinks I worry too much and assumes half my panic is overreaction.”
“Is it?”
“No.”
“Then she’d be wrong.”
I laughed, but it shook on the way out. “She doesn’t know that.
Not really. She knows I’ve been stressed.
She knows work has been weird. She knows I’ve dodged calls for the last couple of months, and I hate that.
” I looked away before he could see too much.
“I hate that I’m letting her think I’m ignoring her. ”
“You’re keeping her out of danger.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t make it easier.”
“No,” I whispered. “It really doesn’t.”
Wheels shifted his chair closer, just enough that his knee brushed mine. “Goldie.”
I looked at him.
“You did what you had to do.”
I wanted to believe that. Part of me did. The other part heard Novalea’s laugh in my head and imagined her calling me dramatic for not answering my phone, and it made my chest ache. “I should at least text her,” I said.
“You can.”
I blinked. “I can?”
His mouth twitched. “You thought I was gonna say no?”
“I thought you were going to tell Twister.”
“I still might.”
“Wheels.”
He leaned back slightly. “Not because I think you’re wrong. Because if you text her, we do it smart. No details. Nothing that panics her. Nothing that gives anyone anything if your phone is being watched.”
I stared at him. “You think my phone is being watched?”
“I think The Ledger got into your apartment, left notes here, and shot at us. Among other things.” His voice stayed calm. “So yeah, babe. I’m assuming everything is watched until we know it’s not.”
The warmth of the morning thinned a little.
I nodded. “Okay.”
He squeezed my knee. “Not now. Finish your coffee. Breathe for a minute.”
I looked down at my mug. My coffee had gone lukewarm, and I drank it anyway.
Wheels sat beside me in the ugly alley behind the clubhouse, one hand on my knee and his eyes still scanning the world around us.
And for the first time since all of this started, telling someone about Novalea didn’t make me feel weaker. It made me feel less alone.