Chapter 13
Noah
My mother lets out the second cackle of the night from the living room, and I fight the urge to wander in to figure out why. In the meantime, while straining to listen to their conversation, I pull the takeout containers from the fridge. It looks like they may have missed one of the soups I ordered.
“They deliver everything?” I yell.
“It’s all in the fridge,” my mother hollers back.
Yeah, well, I figured that much out already. Whenever I order takeout with my mom I order extra, hoping that she’ll eat it throughout the week. It’s easy and convenient. Nine times out of ten, though, she doesn’t.
I cut up the subs, turkey and roast beef, placing them on a plate. Then I heat the soups in the microwave.
It’s nearly 8:30 p.m. and I need to head back to the cabin with Lily.
Lily.
Her sleeping in her car caught me off guard. If I’d known—well, I’m not sure what I would have done, but something. It all makes sense now—her offhand comments at the hospital, the way she brushed off questions about where she was staying, or where I could drop her off. Maybe she genuinely loves hikingand the freedom of a nomadic lifestyle, but has she really been living out of her car, moving from one town to the next? The image unsettles me, a mix of admiration for her independence and concern for what she might be running from.
The microwave beeps, and I swap out the potato soup for the broccoli cheddar, then set it for another two minutes. While it hums, I lean against the counter, listening to my mom tell Lily about every little movement I made from a toddler to high school.
Lily doesn’t say much as my mother cusses her way through embarrassing stories, so I figure it’s about time I interrupt her for Lily’s sake. Padding into the living room, I catch my mother’s hands flying through the air. The arm holes of her shirt droop low off her muscle-worn biceps as she animatedly tells Lily the story of when I was nine, and there was a new kid at school.
“He was shy, wore glasses too big for his face, and didn’t make friends easily. One day,” my mom says, “I got a call from the school because Noah had walked straight out of the classroom in the middle of a lesson without asking or telling anyone where he was going. Turns out, he had snuck an extra cookie from the lunch line and decided to bring it to the boy who he’d noticed was sitting alone on the playground. It was slightly embarrassing to be on the receiving end of that phone call from the office, but honestly, I couldn’t have been more proud. That’s just who he’s always been—always looking out for others.”
My mind flips through the memory of that day. The teacher was droning on and on about decimals, and I was sitting near the windows overlooking the playground. Another class was out there for some reason or another—science class, maybe. Either way, he was sitting all alone on the swings while his classmates ignored him, and the extra cookie I’d grabbed at lunch for an after-school snack seemed as good a peace offering as any.
I had detention after school for two days, but Brent and I became best friends—inseparable, really. He was the sibling I never had.
“Sounds like you haven’t changed,” Lily says, standing. Then she approaches me. “Could I use the bathroom?”
I raise my hand to point, but she flinches, and I’m taken back, jerking my hand down and into my pocket. What? My brows furrow as I gesture with my head instead. “Down the hall and to the left.”
When the door to the hallway guest bathroom clicks shut, my mother’s chipper demeanor falls flat off her face, and she pins me with a steely glare. “You most certainly havenotchanged, therefore I know there’s more to this story with that girl than you’re telling me.”
I sigh. “What I told you is the truth. Morgan called from some random blind date. Said she felt uncomfortable, er she wasn’t feeling it,”—my mother snorts—“so I picked her up. On the way into town, I pulled off at the gas station and Lily was there. Turns out she’s living out of her car. By choice or necessity, I haven’t figured out for sure, yet perhaps a little bit of both. It’s supposed to be cold tonight, and when her car didn’t start, I offered her one of the bunks at my cabin and texted Tom to come tow her car to the shop. Are you telling me I should’ve left her there?”
“Noah Sullivan, you cannot take that girl to your cabin.”
“And why not? She needs a place to crash. Her car won’t run.”
“She needs more than a place to crash. She needs a place to stay, and do you see the way she responds to you? That flinch? She’s intimidated by you.”
I rear back and let out a disbelieving snort. “Yeah, right. Lily’s looks could kill and her attitude …”
I want to say her disposition is dangerously effective at keeping people away, but I pause. Maybe it’s only certain people.Old Man John seems to have a way with her, and mom … Lily looked comfortable talking with her, relaxed even.
“Trust me. That girl has been hurt by someone, probably a man. That prickly exterior is meant to keep others from getting close enough to see the vulnerability underneath. It takes time.” My mother’s gaze flits over to the window, the inky night causing her reflection to stare back as she loses herself to a brewing memory.
The microwave beeps with its tenth reminder ding, and I shake my head wondering what in the hell I’m going to do with her now. I don’t want to scare her.
The bathroom door opens and Lily pads out. She tugs the sleeves of her sweater over her hands, the fabric bunching in her fists, and I hate how this minuscule movement provokes protectiveness in my chest. Did she pull them over her hands as subconscious armor? Something strangles me deep inside at the thought of her fingers curled under the soft material, hiding herself. Great …now I’m reading into all her movements. She’s probably just cold.
“Soups are warm,” I say, focused on her covered hands. She fidgets until I look away, meeting her eyes. Normally, her gaze is sharp and unnerving, but when I look at her, there’s a disarming openness to her expression, and the sudden shift throws me off. To the point I don’t remember what I was going to say, so I skulk off to the kitchen, hoping they’ll follow.
The recliner squeaks, and the sound of my mom’s tank wheeling in behind me prompts me to look around. Lily trails behind her as well, and my mom gives me awhat-the-hell-is-your-problemlook and shakily drags her feet to a seat at the table.
To my surprise, Lily beats her there, towing out the chair for her to sit.
