Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Noah threw a bag of trash in the can like it had personally inconvenienced him. Cassie’s lights were off, but he’d seen the local Chinese place drop off some takeout half an hour ago.
Frustration was simmering, dark and dangerous. He’d let Cassie get too close, and now he’d hurt her. He was selfish and weak.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Bobby’s mom, kneeling at her son’s gravesite.
He should’ve told Cassie the truth the first time she kissed him. Then she would’ve seen what he truly was. Weak. Unreliable. Not someone you should lend a cup of sugar to, let alone fall in love with.
His selfishness had hurt her and endangered the one thing he swore to his dying father that he would protect.
It was better to keep his distance, no matter how much it hurt him. He would be there if she needed him, but he couldn’t let her fall for him.
And what if she did? What if they fell in love and spent the rest of their lives together? How long would that be? At the first sign of danger, he would fail again. He couldn’t protect a ladybug, let alone a wife.
He dropped to the floor in the kitchen and started doing pushups. On and on he went, tension rippling through his chest. His arms were shaking, but at least the pain distracted him from the truth.
Saturday was the anniversary. The last holiday Bobby had ever celebrated. The last day Izzy had a dad.
And it was his fault.
He collapsed on the tile and took a couple of heaving breaths. He needed to do something—anything—to take his mind off this clusterfuck.
He started to get to his feet and go to the woodshed but stopped. Firing up any machinery would scare Taco, who had already been through a trauma tonight.
Instead, he got in his truck and headed to the sanctuary.
For hours, he weeded and scrubbed and prepped. Bleary-eyed animals stared at him from their night rooms.
He worked until his hands were chapped and his knuckles were bleeding. He staggered to his mom’s house and slipped the door open. He crept through the house to the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch and surrendered to the oblivion of exhaustion.
Hours later, he was shaken awake.
“Sweetheart?”
He opened an eye. His mom stooped next to him, concern written on her face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I was just doing some work last night and got tired.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“I’m really worried about you.” She gripped his hand, tears in her eyes.
Great, now he’d made his mom worried. Was there no end to the pain he was going to spread?
“You were starting to do better,” she said gently.
“I saw you open up when Cassie got here. I thought you were finally coming out from under that dark cloud. That you were going to start living again, allow yourself to have something more than work. But right now, it feels like you’re exactly where you were when Bobby died. ”
“You don’t need to be worried about me. I’m fine. Just trying to hold things together.”
Understatement of the year.
“You need to talk to someone,” his mother said firmly.
“Whatever you’re doing, however you’re coping, it isn’t healthy.
You are wallowing. You are driving away everyone in your life.
I know you’re worthy of more than what you allow yourself to have.
You can’t keep people safe by staying away, Noah. ”
This was way too heavy a conversation for this early in the morning.
“I don’t deserve it, Mom,” he said quietly.
“I don’t deserve anything good. Why should I get to keep going, keep on living, while Bobby turns into dust?
He’ll never go to Izzy’s graduation, or find another wife, or even have a beer and watch the fricken sun set on the bay.
But I’m still here. I deserve to suffer. ”
“If I was in your position, would you let me speak about myself in this way?” she asked quietly.
He stopped. He hadn’t considered that before.
“Would you sit here and let me say I don’t deserve anything good for the rest of my life because something horrible happened that I had no control over?” she continued.
“I could have controlled it. I never should have taken my eyes off her.”
“You can’t control everything, Noah. What happened was a tragic accident. There was nothing you or anyone else could have done to save him. But you did save Izzy, and that’s a miracle.”
“Some miracle,” he muttered. “Now she gets to grow up without a dad.”
Her grip tightened on him. “I’m going to make you a deal.”
“I don’t like where this is going.”
“I will make an appointment to get my hip looked at. Today. If,” she said sharply, “you call a therapist.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Then I guess I’ll never get this hip looked at. And I’m going to buy a pair of tap shoes. Maybe start rock climbing.”
He glowered.
She crossed her arms and stared him down.
“You need a professional to teach you how to forgive yourself. I can tell you all day long how it wasn’t your fault, how Bobby wouldn’t want you to live like this.
But you will never make any progress as long as you can’t forgive yourself.
Now call a fricken therapist, or I’m going to let the tamarins loose in your living room. ”
He glanced at his phone. “It’s seven a.m. They won’t even be open.”
“I don’t care. Leave a message.” She sat in front of him, blocking his way off the couch.
“And if I do, you’ll call an orthopedist?”
“The minute you hang up.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How did you know about Cassie?”
“I have eyes, don’t I?”
“I heard what you said to Fran,” he said.
Her lips pressed together. “I’m sorry you overheard us, sweet pea. I was speaking out of frustration.”
“No, you were right. I can’t be with her,” he said. “The stakes are too high. And she deserves better than me.”
“Cassie deserves better than this version of you,” she said carefully. “I know you’re capable of great and selfless love, but you can’t be a good partner with all this unresolved trauma swirling around in you like a cloud of hornets.”
“Where did you learn all these therapy terms?”
“I watch a lot of daytime TV while food prepping. Now stop stalling and call.”
“You’re being awfully mean this morning.”
“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. I’m your mom, not your friend. Now call. On speakerphone.”
He scrolled through the web search of listings and clicked on a random male therapist. The phone rang, and he mentally prepared himself to leave a message.
“Dr. Brunweiler’s office. How can I help you?” a pleasant voice asked.
Damn it.
“Oh. Hi. Sorry, I was expecting to leave a message.”
“He likes to get started early,” the receptionist explained. “Are you a patient?”
“No, but I’d…like to be.” He could always cancel it. His mom would never know.
“Oh, great. We actually had a cancelation this morning at ten. Would that work for you?”
“He’ll take it,” his mom said loudly.
Fuck.
“Great. Let me just get some information.”
Ten minutes later, Noah had an appointment with a therapist and a growing sense of resentment. But true to her word, his mother finally called orthopedics right after he hung up. She’d have an evaluation next week, and with any luck, they’d be able to convince her to agree to a replacement.
“I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” she said. “I know that wasn’t easy.”
“I need to get going,” he said, standing up. That would definitely be the last time he ever fell asleep on his mom’s couch.
“I need a shower if I’m going to bare my soul to a stranger,” he muttered.