My feet propel me, until I’m standing at his bedside. “Magic doesn’t exist. Neither does reason. The whole world is made up of little things that happen every minute of every day, and all it takes is one person to change his mind, and the picture shifts again.” I lift a hand to my face, discovering tears on my cheeks.
Noah reaches for me, but he can’t quite close the distance. He’s hampered by his propped-up leg. It doesn’t matter anyhow, I wouldn’t accept his pity. Being angry is keeping me together.
Noah leaves his hand there, extended between us. “Please.”
I crawl on the huge, soft bed until I’m beside him. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I curl in. He feels good, and he smells even better.
“Noah?” I say softly, looking up.
He looks down.
We stare at each other, and I feel it. The very thing I just denied existence. Like a sparkler on Fourth of July, it sizzles and pops.
Noah’s gaze darkens, his chest hollows out with a deep breath, and his face lowers.
My tongue darts out of my mouth, wetting my lips in anticipation. My toes flex, pushing me closer to his face. His lips hover half an inch above me, and I smell the sweet malt scent of a beer he must have had earlier.
“Noah,” I say again, this time like a request. I want his mouth on mine. I want to go back to when we were kids. Back to when my mom was healthy, and everything was fresh and new.
“We can’t,” Noah moans, his tone frustrated. He pulls back but doesn’t break eye contact. “If you did this, it would tear you up inside.”
He’s right. I’d never be able to live with myself. Matt loves me. “I should probably go.” I start to rise, but Noah tightens his hold.
“Stay,” he murmurs.
Defeated, I lay my head on his chest. His heart hammers out a beat against my face.
“I was accepted to Stanford.” The truth floats out and hangs in the air. “I didn’t tell you because I knew I couldn’t go, and I didn’t want to make everything harder on you. I wanted you to stay on your path. I was afraid you’d deviate for me.” His heart is beating faster now. “I’m sorry. Back then it seemed like the right choice.”
“What’s right isn’t always what’s good.”
I turn my head, placing my chin on his chest, and look up at him. “Are you angry?”
He looks down, studying me. “No,” he finally answers. “And I’m not surprised. You have a thing for self-sacrifice.”
He’s right. I do. I like that about myself. I lay my head back down.
“I hear you’re engaged.” His steady voice washes over me.
I gulp, nodding my head. My fingers automatically reach for a ring I’m still not wearing. I remind myself that it’s too big for my finger, but part of me wonders if that’s a convenient excuse. Shame snakes its way through me.
Neither of us say anything, though my mind is racing. I should be with Matt right now. He’s kind and caring. He supported me when I wanted to buy the studio. He helped me create a business plan, introduced me to a client of his who works in advertising. Yoga’s not his thing, but he accepts that it’s mine. He thinks my aversion to throwing away food is weird, and I’ve learned not to proudly announce I made dinner from items the average person would’ve tossed. My nose ring is non-negotiable, and I think he finally gets that.
Noah…My heart pounds out his name. This is the crux of the problem. Matt is a lot of good things, but he can never change the one thing he is not.Noah.
Noah might be back for right now, but what does that even mean? He’ll rehab, he’ll go back to Atlanta. He’ll choose soccer again, and I won’t stop him. I could never stop him from chasing his dream, even if I want to. He needs to see it through, as far as it can go. I can’t be responsible for an unfulfilled aspiration.
The knowledge of this is enough to un-do me. It shatters my insides, and I cry again. Noah holds me closer, brushes his lips across my hair and says all the right things.Your mom will be okay. She’ll make it through all this. She’ll have a good life, and be able to walk, talk, and be happy.
He doesn’t know I’m mourningus.
* * *
“Where have you been?”
Matt’s shiny leather shoes sound like thunder on my wooden floor. He’s coming from the kitchen, and he’s angry.
“I—”
