Chapter 44 A Man Named Noah
A MAN NAMED NOAH
My cell phone was ringing. Again. Tristan moaned and pulled me closer, mumbling something. I rolled over and felt around on my bed for it. “Hello.” My voice cracked.
“Ev. Are you awake?”
“Callie.” I opened my eyes and blinked a couple times. “Is everything okay?” I pulled my phone away to see it was seven-thirty in the morning.
“Yeah, I’ve tried calling Craig, but he hasn’t answered.”
“He’s probably sleeping.” I yawned. Tristan moaned when I rolled over.
“Well, can I talk to him?” She smiled into the phone.
“Callie, I’m not in bed with him. That was one night, and it was a mistake.” I closed my eyes and rolled back so my forehead was pressed against Tristan’s.
“Oh my god, are you in bed with Tristan? Like, in bed with him? Are you fucking him? Shit, sorry, Tris,” Callie yelled into the phone.
Tristan smiled. “Good morning to you too, Cal.”
Tristan ran his nose along my neck. His hand had slid to the front of my shirt and now rested on my ribs just below my breast. My body craved more. More of him. “Tristan, go wake up Craig.”
He groaned and slid from the bed and adjusted himself.
“What are you doing?” Callie breathed into the phone.
“I was sleeping.” I missed Tristan’s warmth.
“With Tristan. What about Carter?”
“He still hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts. I can’t blame him. I’m lying in bed with… not with him.”
“Shit, Craig’s calling. I’ll call you back.”
I didn’t have a chance to say anything before she hung up. Tristan crawled back into bed. “We should talk—"
I pressed my finger to his mouth. “Not right now.” I knew how this week would end.
He’d leave, and I’d go back to what was left of my life.
I realized now that to be with Tristan I would have to love all of him.
Even the parts that were still broken. “Can I have these days? Just be here with you right now. Not worry about the future or what will happen next week. Please.”
“If that’s what you want.” Tristan kissed my hand and then me. “Then that’s what you shall have. I’ve missed you.”
“Me too.” We lay there like we used to. Still ignoring all our problems and the truth.
“You guys dressed?” Craig knocked on the door.
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Dude, I was in your room like two minutes ago. How could I already be naked? God, poor Callie.”
“Fuck you.” Craig flopped down on the bed. “Speaking of Callie, she’s coming here. She found a rental property we can stay at. It’s got two bedrooms if you want to come.”
“Can’t, man. I’m supposed to live here, remember?” Tristan looked over his shoulder at Craig.
“Fuck, that’s right. Well, it’s open if things get bad.”
“Evan?” Noah called from somewhere in the house.
“Up here!” Craig yelled. “Oh shit, your mom.”
“She’s gone. Had Pilates or went to write me out of the will.” I rubbed my face. The day hadn’t even started, and I was already tired.
“Why does this feel like I’ve done this before?” Noah stood in the doorway. “Tristan in Evan’s bed. Any minute her mom is going to stomp up these stairs and start yelling at Tris.”
“How long have you two been sleeping together?” Craig asked.
“Since we were thirteen.” Tristan looked over at me.
“Fuck.” Craig sat up. “With Noah in the room?”
“Gross, no.” Noah shook his head. “Ev, you got coffee?”
“Yeah.” I untangled myself from Tristan.
“You know where the shower is.” I shuffled past Noah and downstairs.
My mother had left a note in the kitchen saying she would be at the nursing home for most of the day, and then she and Bernice were going to have dinner.
At least she did that right. There wasn’t any breakfast, but that was asking a bit much. She rarely made it when I was a child.
“Where’s Bailey?” I asked, scooping grounds into the coffee maker.
“She’s got work. She teaches first grade.” Noah sat down and rubbed his face. “Do you think you and Tris can order flowers? And I’ll go deal with Dad at the funeral home?”
I leaned against the counter. “Is that what you want?”
“No. I don’t want to do any of this. I want to go to bed and wake up and everything be okay. Mom okay. Tristan okay. You okay. Everyone okay.” He covered his face with his hands and groaned.
“You can’t keep them apart forever.” Noah had tried to do that when he was younger too. He’d do something to either take the attention away from Tristan or get in the middle.
“My whole life, he’s protected me. He took it all.
I can protect him for a few days.” Noah looked out the patio door.
“Why do you think he stayed? I knew by the time I was twelve James wouldn’t hurt me.
Then she told me the truth about Tristan when I turned sixteen.
We were arguing about him, and she said he was my half-brother.
Like that would change the way I felt about him.
It made me feel worse.” Noah ran a thumb over the grain of the table.
“I hate her, Ev. I hate her for what she did to him. She blamed him for all her problems with James. For being born. For being alive.” Noah closed his eyes against the tears.
“What kind of son hates his dead mother?”
“One that’s hurting.” I wished I could fix him. There were no broken bones to tape up or blood to wash away. Noah’s damage didn’t show.
“Why didn’t Tristan leave?” He looked to the ceiling. “Why did he stay?”
I used to wonder the same, and then I realized where else was Tristan going to go? He was a kid. “Noah, what happened to Tristan is not your fault. You had no more control over this than he did.”
“Then whose fault is it? If I wasn’t there, he would have left with you.
” Noah slouched down lower in his chair.
“He would be okay. Maybe even happy. Not whatever he is now.” He motioned to the stairs.
“There was one night Shannon had to take him to the ER to get his stomach pumped. Shannon called mom and she said to call her when he was dead. After that I think he just gave up. I had to call the cops to get James to stop because Tristan wouldn’t fight back.
I begged him to leave, and he did. But then something would happen, and I didn’t know who else to call.
” Noah squeezed his eyes shut. “If that’s not my fault, then whose is it? Tell me.”
I walked over and sat down by Noah. “Noah, you were six the first time Tristan brought you to my house.” Noah had looked so small clinging to his brother’s leg that night, a stuffed lion pressed to his face.
I wasn’t sure how either of them survived that house.
“What were you supposed to do? Even if you were never born, James still would’ve been James and everything that happened to Tristan still would’ve happened. ”
“If I hadn’t been here, Tristan would’ve left with you.”
If only it had been that simple and that had been written in the stars.
“That’s not how this works. You don’t get to say what might have happened.
You don’t know. None of us do. We all end up where we are supposed to be, and nothing you did or didn’t do will change that.
” Maybe that was what had been written in the stars.
Not about Tristan’s and my love. But we were the fire in which we burned each other.
“And if it is my fault, and I end up just like James? Like my—"
“Stop. Noah, you are not him. You are nothing like your mother.”
“How do you know? Sometimes I get so screwed up in my head, I don’t know what to do. I have so much anger toward her. Toward James. What if when the baby comes—”
“Noah, stop.” He looked so young in the low light of the kitchen. I could see traces of the little boy eating a Pop-Tart at this exact table. “Tristan isn’t like him. He’s never laid a hand on me. Why would you be different?”
“Because I’m blood.” Noah’s expression changed. “Tris.” He wiped his face.
“You okay?” Tristan walked over to the coffee maker. He was shirtless, his joggers slung low on his hips, the designer band of his boxers hanging out of the top. Did this man ever not look like some model?
“Yeah, just a little hungover. Can you… uh, order flowers today with Ev?” Noah asked.
“Is that what you want?” Tristan asked.
“Yeah, it would help out.” Noah pressed the heel of his hand to his brow.
“Noah, I’m… I’m not going to beat up your…” He paused and shook away the rest of his words. “I’ll take Craig to go order flowers. You and Ev go deal with James. What kinda flowers do you want? Red, pink? Roses and some other shit?”
“How about Craig goes with Noah and I make sure you don’t order roses and other shit.” I looked over at Tristan, hoping he understood this wasn’t the time for ego.
“What am I doing?” Craig came into the kitchen, towel-drying his hair.
“Meeting the old man.” Tristan set his cup down and patted Craig on the shoulder before walking out of the room. “I’m going to go get dressed.”
“Tristan, I…” Noah hung his head.
“Don’t worry, little bro. Tris’ll get over it.” Craig turned to me. “Anything I should know about the old man?”
“Yeah, don’t kill him. Save that for me. Let’s meet at First Street for lunch. And Noah, don’t worry about Tristan. He’ll be fine.”
I found Tristan shaving in my bathroom. He looked silly, all dark and covered in tattoos in my pink flamingo bathroom. I hopped up on the counter and watched him. “He’s worried about you.”
Tristan ran the razor up his neck. “He doesn’t need to be. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I can handle it. I know people think I’m a loose cannon.”
“You did beat up James in the hospital.” It was hard not to run my hand down the lean planes of his body. To trace the dark lines that covered his chest and shoulders.
“Can you think of a better place?” Tristan asked. “It was stupid. It won’t happen again.”
I watched him finish shaving. We should talk about what happened two years ago. But what would that solve? What’s done is done. Plus, we had bigger things to deal with. Like a dead mother and hurting Noah. “He thinks he’s the reason for us not working.” I caught his eye.
“He’s not. Are we doing this now?” he asked, wiping his face.
“Just don’t be so rough on him, okay? He’s still your little brother.”
Tristan stepped between my legs. “You didn’t answer me. When are we going to talk about it? Or are we just going to pretend it never happened?”
“Not pretend, just ignore.” I looked at the flamingo shower curtain. We made out in that bathtub. I gave him a hand job in there. The pink rug was still in front of the tub. My eyes found the copper stain easily.
“Evan, look at me.”
He stepped closer, his hands on my thighs. I cocked my head and looked at him. “Going back isn’t going to solve anything. I just want to move forward.”
“And what happens in four days when I have to get on a plane and go back to Miami? Will you hate me?”
“Hate you? I’ve never hated you.” I thought I had the night of my birthday.
But hate was not something I could feel for Tristan.
It took all this time to see what I should’ve seen two years ago.
If I wanted Tristan in my life, I had to understand how broken he really was.
The broken bones and bruises healed years ago.
It was the effects of the mental abuse he was struggling with. And that was harder to see and fix.
I had to be secure in his love for me and stop thinking he needed to prove it to me. Because he already had. I was his safe place to land. The one he could break around. The one he ran back to when he was unsure of what was next. Or when he was stepping too close to the edge.
He pressed his forehead to mine. “Promise?”
I cupped his face and kissed him because that was what I could do.
“I promise. I promise to be here when you figure it all out. I promise to love you until there are no stars left in the sky.” I would never regret my time with Tristan or the hurt he caused.
But I regretted the time I wasted being too afraid of being that girl.
The one who loved the boy she shouldn’t have.
The one who would gladly catch him when he fell.
Because sometimes it’s the boy in the story who needs to be saved.