As he hugs Morgan, his eyes flit around until they land on mine.
I look away.
“You know?” Old Man John nudges my shoulder with his.
“Yeah, I know.” It’s all I can say.
He gives me another long hug and I talk with him and his daughter until they can’t stand the weather anymore. As they walk off, I look back toward Noah.
He stands at the edge of the gravesite, staring down at the wet dark soil.
Max whines and tugs on the leash toward him, so I let it go. He runs over to him, heeling at his side. All I can do is watch. Therain drips from my hair down my back as I bring both hands to the handle of the umbrella, repositioning it.
At Noah’s feet, Max sits, unmoving. His fur is slicked down with rain, his ears drooping, content to be by his side. He doesn’t whine, doesn’t shiver—he’s used to harsher conditions. With the same quiet reverence as Noah, Max stares at the grave, as if he understands this moment.
Noah swallows hard, blinking in the rain, and he reaches down, fingers threading through the fur at Max’s neck. Neither of them move.
Noah crouches down, grabbing a handful of dirt from the pile next to the grave. He allows it to pour from his hand onto the casket, and compelled, I move toward him. When I’m beside him, I do the same, scooping up a wet clump and silently telling Ms. Sullivan goodbye.
Reaching over, I take Noah’s hand, as his shoulders slowly shake, and he buries his chin to his chest. I wish I could take away his pain. Take away the hole that’s opened in his heart.
I squeeze his hand, and he lets me.
Minutes go by, and most of the cars down the hill in the parking lot have gone, with a few stragglers conversing under umbrellas near their cars.
A shiver suddenly crawls up my spine, slow. The cold rain should be the only thing pressing against my skin, but there’s something else, and it settles between my shoulder blades prickling the back of my neck, like a breath too close.
I glimpse over my shoulder, scanning the rows of grave markers and the shadows behind the trees. I don’t find anything, yet the feeling won’t go away. Like there are eyes locked onto me from somewhere beyond what I can see.
My fingers curl tighter around Noah’s, my nails pressing into his palm. It’s just the funeral, the storm, the weight of the unknown with Noah haunting me, right? My pulse thrumsa little harder, my breath catching when a large shadow moves from behind a large oak.
It’s nothing.
“Miss me?”The words float through the trees in a restless whisper. It’s faint—so faint I almost convince myself I made them up. The words dissolve as soon as they reach my ears, but it’s a ghost of a voice, familiar. The hairs on my arms prickle underneath my long sleeves and the wind shifts again, causing me to shiver.
For the first time all week, Noah wraps an arm around my middle, pulling me into him. The slinking in the shadows abates and the warmth of his body is soothing, but when I tilt my head to look up at him, he still avoids eye contact.
Will there be anything I can do to help ease his pain? To prove to him he isn’t alone in this.
The ride from the cemetery is unsurprisingly quiet. Noah, completely drenched, forces himself to stare straight ahead while he drives me to the diner.
Max is passed out in the back seat, reeking of wet dog. The stench wrinkles my nose, so I crack my window, hoping the damp breeze airs it out. The movement causes Noah to glance at me. His eyebrows furrowed like he’s sorting something out.
I jump at the connection. “Funeral was beautiful.”
He props his left hand on top of the wheel and slowly nods.
“It really was a great turnout. She was loved by many.” I don’t know if I’m making this worse or saying the wrong thing. I just want to hear his voice, to talk with him. I don’t like this version of Noah—this shut down version, like he’s imploding from within.
“She was.” He sniffs and rubs his chest. “I’m going to head to the house to go through a few things.”
My eyebrows raise and I blink. “Y-you don’t have to do thattoday, Noah.”
The corner of his lip curls, and he clenches a fist over his thigh. “Yes, I do.”
A few beats of silence shuffles between us where only the patter of rain and Max’s snores fill the void.
“Okay,” I whisper.
