A Hard Habit to Break

Prologue

THERE WERE THREE things that Noah Calvary had loved the entirety of his six-year-old life—fire engines, football, and his grandfather.

It was his birthday, and PawPaw Philip had come all the way across the West Virginia mountains for Noah’s party.

So, while his older brothers, Eli and Tobias, slept in, Noah had brushed his teeth, parted his thick curls down the middle with Eli’s silver-tipped comb, the one he’d spent his allowance on at the General Store, and slipped into his gold-and-blue jersey for his Saturday morning game.

On fast feet, he bounded down the steps from his upstairs bedroom, wanting to spend as much time as he could with PawPaw before the big game.

His cleats tapped a harsh note on the scuffed hardwood floors, alerting PawPaw of his arrival.

At seeing his grandfather seated in his favorite of the two recliners reserved for his parents, Noah leaped into PawPaw’s waiting arms.

“Caught you, little rabbit,” Grandfather laughed, his thick arms, cloaked in a twin gold-and-blue jersey, boosting Noah miles off the ground.

Heat spilled in through the front parlor’s open window as warmth spread through his small chest. A soft breeze fluttered the floral print curtains, carrying the scent of sweet honeysuckle from the meadow surrounding their house and PawPaw’s spiced aftershave.

“Am I your favorite, PawPaw? Am I? ’Cause you’re mine,” he asked, settling onto PawPaw’s lap, a spot his brothers normally jockeyed for, but Noah had a strategy.

While the rest of the house snored, he had stood watch by his grandfather’s favorite recliner every morning.

He’d sacrifice sleep to be first in line for his PawPaw’s hugs.

Plural, because he never stopped at one.

“Welp,” PawPaw mused, his hazel eyes a dancing rainbow of colors like Noah’s, “the one I’m hugging is the one that needs the most loving.”

“Aw shucks, PawPaw,” Noah objected to his grandfather’s lack of clarification, but that didn’t stop him from cuddling his lean frame against a barrel chest that rumbled with laughter. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true, little rabbit.” He grinned, rustling Noah’s inky waves with a huge hand. There went his fancy styling. But Noah didn’t mind. It was just hair.

“I’m not a little rabbit. I’m a big boy,” he defended.

“I know. But rabbits are happiest with others, like you.”

“Are they brave?”

PawPaw’s eyes widened. He leaned back and puffed out his chest like a superhero. “They’re elite sprinters. With supersonic hearing and sharp eyes.”

“Just like me,” Noah pronounced with confidence.

He wanted to grow up and be a fireman—a brave one, like his PawPaw.

But today, he’d enjoy being six… and his grandfather, especially since he only had one now.

Noah hated losing anything. He’d lost his pet goldfish even though he fed it and talked to it every morning before school.

Then Tobias moved across the hall into his own room, leaving Noah in a humongous space with two beds and only one of him.

But the worst had been when Grandpa Asher had gotten too sick to play, to hug, to laugh.

Last year, his father had gathered Noah and his brothers around the kitchen table to say Grandpa Asher had gone to Glory.

Which had to be far from West Virginia, because his house had boards over the windows, and he never came to visit anymore.

That’s why he loved it when PawPaw came to town.

At night, he stayed at Noah’s bedside until he fell asleep.

He hugged a lot, too. And he made macaroni and cheese with seashells instead of C-shaped noodles, which, in his opinion, just plain ol’ tasted better.

With today being Noah’s special day, he’d promised to buy him a chocolate football cake with sprinkles and a fire engine on top.

“Is there anything you need right now, PawPaw? I can go get it. I’m fast—the fastest boy on my team.

” His mama joked that of her three boys, Noah’s arrival into the world had been the fastest. Yep, his birth shattered a record.

“And… and I’m strong enough to carry your suitcase and…

and your house slippers faster than Eli, even though he’s the oldest.” He made his case in a rapid-fire word salad, tossing his six-year-old reasoning on PawPaw in between gulps of air.

“And… and Tobias, because he’s always worried about falling and bleeding to death. That means I win.”

“You do all those things, and your PawPaw appreciates your help—”

“’Cause I’m the favorite.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Say it’s true, PawPaw. It can be our secret.”

PawPaw placed a comforting hand on Noah’s back. “Breathe, Noah,” he soothed.

And because he loved PawPaw, he did as he was told. He placed his small hand atop soft and wrinkly brown skin, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s my calm little rabbit,” he chuckled, rubbing his free hand down Noah’s back.

It felt so good to be cuddled that Noah let the rabbit comment slide without complaint.

“Life is more than winning other people’s favor, Noah.

You’ll win sometimes, and so will the other kids.

Participation, yours and theirs, teaches you to work better together, win or lose.

Most important is why you are there for each other. ”

“But, but, Petey said, if I don’t win, people won’t like me, and then they’ll leave or not want me around.

” He and Petey had met on the football field.

Now he had his very own best friend. They tag-teamed everything.

They’d made a pact to win as many games as possible.

“Eli’s always saving the animals with Dad.

Tobias reads better than everybody. Mama said so. I want to be good at something, too.”

“Your brothers excel at the things they’re interested in… just like you, Noah.”

“But there’s no trophies for that stuff. Petey said it doesn’t count if you don’t get a trophy.”

“Is Petey Judelson smarter than your PawPaw?”

What did that have to do with anything? Old people should know more than kids. They got paid to know stuff.

“Well, no,” he drawled, not wanting to hurt his grandfather, but Petey did have more friends to play with than PawPaw.

“That’s right.”

“But how will I know if the other kids will like me forever if I don’t win or rescue them or something?

Petey said being six is for big boys. I have to prove myself, PawPaw.

” Didn’t he understand that he had to compete with the older kids now?

Petey was a playground legend. He had a trampoline in his backyard, a new football every year, and a cool bike with neon tubes that glowed when he pedaled fast. And he always had a bag of sugar cookies to share from his family’s restaurant.

Once Petey had asked Noah if he came from money, too.

Noah had only come from home, school, or church, so he’d kept quiet when Petey asked him the question.

“Let PawPaw tell you a story. When your mother was a little girl, I loved her so much. I never imagined I could love anyone more than her.”

“She was your favorite?” he interrupted.

“Hold on little rabbit. Let PawPaw catch his breath.” He must have run it down, Noah thought, because not long after he started talking again.

“Where was I, oh…” He nodded. “Oh, okay, on with today’s life lesson.

So, outside of your grandmother…” He paused, but his breathing sounded wobbly, like when Noah stayed under the waterfall too long.

“God rest her soul, your mom was my favorite person in the whole world. Then she grew up, married your dad, and they had—”

“Me,” Noah squealed in delight. He squeezed PawPaw’s solid middle, stretching his six-year-old arms long as happiness zinged and sizzled like the Fourth of July through his whole body.

“Yes, she did,” his grandfather said, placing a kiss on his forehead. “PawPaw loves you whether you fetch my slippers or not. I have enough love for you… your brothers, your father, and your mom. And—”

“I know you’re my biggest fan, PawPaw. That’s why I got to you first. I beat them downstairs to get the most hugs ’cause I really love you. And I’m going to be the best, most brave fireman like you when I grow up.” He beamed, releasing his grandfather’s center.

“Speaking of most,” came his father’s voice.

Noah looked over his shoulder. Both his parents strode down the stairs into the front parlor, hand in hand, his mother giggling.

They did that a lot when they were together—holding hands and laughing when no one had a funny joke.

Noah had asked his dad why they always smiled.

He’d said, “Happy wife, happy life.” One day, Noah would win himself a happy wife who’d giggle in his face and hold his hand to help him down the stairs.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” his mama shouted, her green eyes sparkling, before scooping him up from PawPaw’s lap. Her hair, loose waves of flowing chocolate, smelled sweet, like cupcakes, but different. “Dad, where’s your oxygen tank?”

Noah had forgotten about PawPaw’s green machine, as he called the long cylinder on two wheels with a cool curved handle.

“I feel good, Leah. Stop fussing at your daddy.” PawPaw winked at Noah’s mother, and Noah laughed. All talk of green machines and feeling good vanished from his mind.

“Good morning, Philip,” his father said in greeting to his grandfather.

He was the only one in the house who used PawPaw’s first name.

Noah dropped a big kiss on his mama’s cheek. It made a smack sound, and she laughed.

“Thank you for the birthday hug, Mama.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, baby boy.” She pressed his head to her shoulder, the way he liked. “You give the best hugs and kisses to your mama.”

“Really?” Noah lit up with excitement at the prospect of his excellence. “The best?”

“You sure do. Now, off you go. Do well at football today. PawPaw and I will have your cake and ice cream ready when you get home.”