“Both,” he said, gathering me in a tight embrace. “It’s like you’ve finally stopped caring what everyone thinks and let yourself be whatever you want.”
My eyes stung as I absorbed those words. “Maybe. I’m not all the way there yet.”
The air was different in here. It was honest. There was no need to hide from anything.
When Noah kissed me this time, it was familiar in the best ways. I knew his lips, his tongue, his beard. I knew the taste of him. And I knew how to sink into this moment and let it feel like forever.
Eventually, he leaned back and untangled the pretzel I’d made of us, saying, “You’ll get there. I know you will.”
He pulled my dress down my legs and ran a hand over the fabric to smooth out the wrinkles incurred from rubbing up against each other in a pantry. Pausing, he looked me over. If I resembled even a fraction of the chaotic jumble inside me, I was a wreck. But not the same wreck I’d been for the past few months. This was a fresh, new form of wrecked. A version I didn’t mind much at all. A version that felt very much alive and not dried-up or at all hollowed out.
Noah tucked my hair over my ear, saying, “I’m going to walk you out now.”
“Do you have to?”
He nodded. “Yeah. One more minute in here will turn into ninety—fuck, the whole night—before we know it.”
I pressed my legs together and I felt a distinct ache, a clench that nearly stole my breath. I gulped. “Oh. Okay.”
“It’s a school night for you,” he said, as if that explained everything.
With a hand between my shoulder blades, Noah steered me into the kitchen. He grabbed my book bags and the leftover cake, and led me outside. For my part, I couldn’t think beyond the heat and desire inside me, and I allowed him to file my bags in the back seat, stow the cake on the passenger side, fasten my seat belt around me. I clasped my hands in my lap to stop them from shaking.
“Do I need to follow you home?” he asked.
“No. I’m fine.” I breathed a jittery laugh. “And Gennie’s asleep.”
“I can get someone to stay here for ten minutes,” he said, a hand braced on the open car door. That stance had his t-shirt climbing up his torso, leaving a slice of skin exposed. A half-moon hung in the sky behind him and I couldn’t believe how good he looked. Like an angel who knew enough of heaven and hell to walk away from both. “It’s not a problem.”
I shook my head. “How about I text you when I get home?”
His brows lifted as he considered this. “All right. I can live with that.”
“Thank you,” I said, gesturing to the cake.
“Happy birthday, wife.” Noah leaned in and brushed a kiss to my lips. “I’m picking you up for the Harvest Festival. Be ready at seven.”
* * *
Shay:I’m home.
Noah:Yes. It seems like you are.
chaptertwenty
Shay
Students will be able to cross bridges and climb mountain-shaped husbands.
I setmy water bottle on the cafeteria’s refill station and tugged at the front of my dress, a pitiful attempt at circulating the thick, stagnant air. It wasn’t even midmorning yet and I was melting. September never ended without one last brutal blast of summer heat. That would’ve been fine, a temporary discomfort before the crisp weather promised for the weekend, but the cooling system at Hope Elementary was on its last legs today.
“Sweltering, isn’t it?”
I glanced up from the stream of water into my bottle to see Helen Holthouse-Jones, who I still refused to refer to as HoJo, crossing the cafeteria toward me. Today’s wrap dress was sleeveless and her merlot hair was twisted up and held with a large binder clip.
“Yes,” I said emphatically. “At this rate, we might spend the afternoon spread out on the floor with the lights off.”
“Good, good. That might be the only way through,” she said with a chuckle. She uncapped her own water bottle and took a sip while mine continued filling. It took forever; I knew this. I liked big bottles and I couldn’t lie. “While I’ve got you here—”
