17. You’re a fake, Noah Weston
SEVENTEEN
YOU’RE A FAKE, NOAH WESTON
NOAH
One year ago
Andrea is dead.
No matter how many times I repeat the words to myself, they aren’t sinking in. My brother is a widower. My nephew is motherless.
Did Jonah relapse, too? Is he going to follow her to the grave like Dad did Mom?
Both questions I don’t have the answer to because my brother isn’t speaking to me. Even if he was, I don’t know that he’d be honest.
Emma called me at three o’clock in the morning.
She said she’d be staying with Jonah so she can look after Auggie, but I shouldn’t come, because Jonah asked me not to.
It was like a stab to the heart. I couldn’t sleep, so I rode out to the cliff to watch the sunrise, and that’s where I've been for the past hour.
The sky is painted in pastel pinks and oranges, reflecting off the rippling waters below, but not even this view can break through this hollow feeling that’s taken root.
Jonah and I disagree on a lot of things, love being one of them. It’s another form of self-destruction, a different sort of addiction that only leads to pain in the end. Andrea’s death only reaffirmed that belief for me.
We weren’t especially close, but I respected her as Auggie’s mom, and more than anything, it hurts to think about how her loss is going to affect him. Losing our mom is what sent our life into a downward spiral.
I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
Part of me wants to drive out to Starling Falls, to hell with Jonah’s request, and have it out with him once and for all.
Lay our cards on the table and put all this shit behind us.
But there’s another part of me—a guilty, horrible part—that never wants to see him again.
At least then, I can hang onto the few memories I have when he was my best friend, and it felt like maybe we could bear the weight of the world because we were doing it together.
Another hour passes and the early morning traffic flies by as the residents head off to work. To them it’s just another day. But not to me.
I park along the curb in front of my shop and turn to head inside when my shoulder knocks into someone, sending an entire tray of coffee tumbling to the ground at her feet.
My temper flares, and Clio is the unwitting recipient. “Fucking hell. Watch where you’re going.”
It’s a shitty thing to say considering I bumped into her.
“Sorry.” Her face crumples as she crouches down to clean up the mess. She reaches for one of the cups and hisses, pulling her hand back and cradling it against her chest as she mutters something I can’t quite understand. A tear glides down her cheek, and she swipes it away.
I should help her.
But I don’t.
She gets the cups placed back in the holder and tosses them into a nearby trash can. That’s when I notice her red-tipped nose and bloodshot eyes, and a pang of guilt hits me square in the chest.
I reach into my pocket and offer her some cash. “Here. Let me replace it.”
She gently places her palm over mine and pushes it away. “It’s fine. I don’t need your pity.”
“Well, fuck me for trying.”
Her eyes flare, and she walks away in a huff. “Fuck you, Weston.”
Her voice fades into the distance as she disappears around the corner.
I stride into Branch Out and wait in line behind a few other customers, scanning my surroundings to make sure Clio isn’t here yet.
“Hey, Noah,” Quinn says. “What can I get you?”
“I need a favor.” I take one last glance around the coffee shop, satisfied when I don’t see Clio anywhere. “Can you keep my card on file for when Clio comes in? I want to pay for her coffee.”
Quinn squeals. “Oh, my god. Do you have a crush on Clio?”
“Shhh. Keep your voice down. It’s not like that. I just… I said some stupid shit, and I need to make it up to her.”
“Ok. Whatever you say.” She takes down my information and leaves a note by the register.
She hands me back the card, and I slide it into my wallet. “She can’t know about this.”
“What? How am I supposed to explain it?”
“I don’t know. Make something up. But don’t bring my name into it.”
“Fine. How long do you want me to keep up the ruse?”
Shit. I hadn’t really thought this through. How many coffees does it take to apologize for being an asshole? “A month? Maybe two. I’ll let you know.”
Present day
A pounding at my apartment door tears me away from my sketchbook. In a panic, I stand and answer it. “Clio? Is everything ok?”
“No! You’re a fake, Noah Weston.” She slaps her palm against my chest, sending me stumbling backward a step. She moves closer again, pointing one accusatory finger at me. “You’re a fake, and a phony, and a liar and… and… a good person.”
I throw my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I mean, yeah. I thought that that was kind of the point of this whole thing.”
She tangles her fist in my T-shirt, and before I can take stock of what’s happening, she plants her lips on mine.
My hands fall, inch by inch, hovering in the air for one agonizing moment until I give up the fight and succumb to temptation, wrapping myself around her, pulling her flush against me as I melt into her.
I grab a fistful of her red hair, using it to tilt her head exactly where I want it, deepening the kiss. Her tongue explores my mouth, and I return the favor, savoring her sweetness as my other hand roams over her curves, gripping a handful of her lush ass in my palm.
“Look! I brush-ded my teef!”
Auggie's voice startles us apart. Clio’s delicate hand raises to her lips, a soft smile tugging at the corners. I want to bite the bottom one, but we have a spectator, and it wouldn’t be appropriate.
He’s wearing his favorite dinosaur chicken nugget pjs, and his face is covered in foamy toothpaste as he grins wide enough to show us every single one, his eyes almost disappearing behind his round cheeks.
“Good job,” I sign. “Ready for bed?”
Auggie nods.
Clio’s eyes widen, and she draws in a sharp breath. “You’ve been practicing?”
My cheeks heat, and I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
Her soft hand touches my forearm. “Noah. That’s amazing.”
The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins, reminding me what we’d been doing only a moment ago. I want so badly to get back to that—to lose myself in her again. Something about Clio seems to quiet my mind, leaving only thoughts of her behind.
“I should go,” she whispers. “I don’t want to mess up your routine. It’s important for him.”
She turns to walk away, but I need answers. I need to know why she kissed me, and more importantly, if she wants to do it again. “Stay. I’ll just tuck him in and then I’ll be right back.”
Her green eyes search mine, and whatever she must see is enough to convince her to stay. “Ok. Fine. I’ll stay.”
The door snicks closed behind me as I pad down the hallway. Clio is sitting crisscross on my couch, having made herself at home, and I have to admit she looks damn good in my apartment. I sink onto the sofa beside her and cradle her face in my hands. “What are you doing here, princess?”
“You tell me. You asked me to stay.”
I shake my head, silently counting all the freckles dotting across the bridge of her nose. “Why did you come here? Why did you call me a liar?”
She sucks in a deep breath then blows it out as though she’s trying to center herself. “Why did you tell Quinn to lie about the coffee shop discount?”
I sink back, pinching the bridge of my nose. “She told you?”
She wobbles her head from side to side. “Kind of. I had to pry the answer out of her.”
“It’s not what you think.”
She lets out a humorless laugh. “I honestly don’t know what I think, Noah.”
I scoot closer on the couch, my knee bumping against hers. “Do you remember last year when I ran into you on the sidewalk, and you spilled your coffee everywhere?”
Something solemn crosses her features before she hides it behind a small smile, but it’s too late. I already caught a glimpse. I want to know what caused it.
“So, you admit it was your fault?”
“I was an asshole. I didn’t mean to ruin your day.”
“Yeah. But that’s kind of your brand.”
“Only with you for some reason.”
“I bring out the worst in you. Got it.”
“No. You’re just always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everywhere I turn, there you are and I just… I can’t escape you.”
Her hand touches mine on top of my knee. “Why was it the wrong time?”
“It was the day I found out Auggie’s mom had died.” I don’t know why I feel comfortable confiding in Clio. I’ve never told anyone this story before, not even Emma. “Andrea overdosed the night before, and Emma called to tell me she’d be staying with Jonah, but that he didn’t want me there.”
My chest tightens at the reminder of what felt like the cruelest betrayal. “My brother was facing the most difficult time in his life, and he just… didn’t want me around.”
“Oh, Noah. That must’ve been so hard.”
“It was my fault. I was hard on him, and I think he felt like I would judge him… both of them. He wasn’t wrong. I was harboring a lot of mixed feelings at the time.”
“And now?”
“I just want my brother back. The version of him that existed before the accident that started his addiction.”
“That version of him is gone, Noah. He’ll always be your brother, but there is a before and an after, and Jonah is living in the after. You have to join him there if there’s ever going to be a chance to reconcile.”
I nod, but I can’t bring myself to continue, and Clio doesn’t press me for more. She has this uncanny ability to know when to pry, and when to hold back.
After a long pause, she says, “You didn’t ruin my day. That day is always hard for me.”
“Why?”
“It’s the anniversary of the day we lost Aunt Penny.”
I’ve never seen her look so fragile before—like one small tap could cause her to shatter. The ache in my chest pulls taut, and instead of ignoring it this time, I lean in and take her hand. “Tell me about her.”