I force a smile, although I want to frown.
“She didn’t receive a dime from him. It took everything she had to purchase this property. Might not seem like much, but this land, this location—near Yosemite, near good schools for me—it’s expensive to live here, but she made it happen.” Noah looks toward the living room and rubs the back of his neck.
The pride in Noah’s voice is unmistakable, and it isn’t just the words he uses, but the way he says them. Letting me see into a part of him he doesn’t share often, not because he’s embarrassed. No. He’s happy to tell the world about his mother’s strength, but it’s the protectiveness in his voice. He doesn’t want people to pity him for not growing up without a father—that undermines what his mom has done for him.
Yeah.I can relate to that. I don’t share what happened to me. It’s better than watching someone’s expression twist into pity. In fact, I take it a step further and shut people out. I don’t do people. Though, Ms. Sullivan and Noah are two people Icando.
“She did everything,” he continues, his eyes distant. “Then life had to answer her and all her hard work with a big shitty screw you in the form of cancer.”
I blink. Noah doesn’t swear, not really. My chest feels tight again, and I’m overwhelmed by how much he admires her. I’m terrified knowing he will eventually lose her.
“She’s strong though.” He moves closer to me, those rich eyes spearing me. “Like you, Lily. I can’t even imagine … I wish I’d known. I wish I could go back in time for you, with you. I’d never allow that to happen to you. If I could?—”
“Stop.” I can’t take it anymore. He’s looking at me exactly how I didn’t want. I don’t want to be fixed. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.”
He retreats, his hand stretching at his side like he may have wanted to touch me. The pit in my stomach probably means I want him to.
The ding of my cell phone goes off, the alarm for Ms. Sullivan’s morning medicine, and I scramble to shut it off, slapping it on the counter next to the sink.
“It’s going to cost you fifteen this morning!” Ms. Sullivan yells from the living room, and I wince.
Noah pauses on his way to the table to grab the turkey. “What is she talking about?”
Umm. Bribing your dying mother. Guess we don’t have to worry about me being morally superior to anyone.
“Nothing.”
“Mind your own damn business, Noah!”
We both answer at the same time, and Noah just shakes his head, grabbing the turkey and placing it in the refrigerator for tomorrow.
I snicker, pulling out her pills and filling a glass of water. Sliding two fingers in my pocket, I check to make sure I have cash before padding to the living room, where Ms. Sullivan’s thin hand is outstretched, waiting. I plop the pills in there and hand her the water. While she drinks, I slip a ten and a five in the pages of her romance novel spread open on her lap, thankful to beat Noah’s footsteps into the room.
“Turkey is all set in the fridge. Most of the other groceries are down in my truck and I’ll bring them up. Max and I are off for the next four days, so I figured we’d come stay here. Spend more time with you.” He looks at his mom, his eyes skating over the agonizingly weak look on her face, her body swallowed up by her oversized sweater and lounge pants. Then he looks to me. “Both of you.”
I pull the blanket sliding down her lap up and over her legs, and the corner of her mouth twitches. The first time I adjusted her blanket, she swatted me away. Then the next time I pulled the wool up, she swatted at me again, telling me she “wasn’t dead yet.” The following time, I swatted back and shocked her.It wasn’t hard, more playful, but after that she started letting me drape the blanket over her without her slaps to stay away, and I’m grateful she’s letting me do more for her.
It’s a bittersweet feeling. Each day I get to know her better, enjoy her witty sarcasm that’s kindred to my soul, is also another day knowing her body is deteriorating more.
Ms. Sullivan looks between the two of us, Noah’s gaze fixed on me. “Where are you planning to sleep?”
“I’ll take the couch, no problem.”
Emotion, the size of a baseball, works its way down my throat. The loveseat is barely wide enough for me to lie down. Trust me, I’ve tried. Especially during the marathons ofWheel of FortuneI’ve been forced to watch the past two weeks. I want to tell him to take his old room back, that I’ll take the couch, but his phone rings.
The smile on his face dies when he looks at the caller ID, and he tucks it into his back pocket without answering it. “I’ve got to run some errands and grab Max from the cabin. I’ll be back around dinner tonight.”
It’s infuriating how my heart betrays me in this moment, beating faster and harder at his words. He’ll be back tonight to stay for four days—it’s ridiculous. Yet here I am, dissecting each glance, the touch in the kitchen earlier, like they mean something.
It’s been years since I had these feelings. I’ve gone to bed the past week thinking of the tilted smiles he gives me before I hop out of his truck heading to work, or how his voice drops when he’s talking to me. It’s not fair.
I wasn’t looking for this, for him. It was the opposite, really, and now, I’m stuck, tangled up in feelings I don’t want to have for him.
My jaw tightens as I glare at nothing in particular, wishing I could turn it off.
To distract myself, I say, “I’ll help unload the groceries so you can go.”
Noah nods. “Yeah, thanks. That’d be great.”
