I chuckle and shake my head. “Oh, did she?”
“Yeah! So I set up my train set so we could play with it.”
He leads me into his room, where he has a little table adorned with a small town and train tracks. Noah scurries over to the table, still dragging me along. He pulls me down to sit on the floor and hands me a plastic red tub.
“These are your trains.” Then he produces another red tub. “And these are mine.” He goes on to show me each of the trains in his bucket and mine, informing me of the backstories he’s created for each one. I nod and smile at each explanation, asking questions and making comments when he pauses.
Kat told me to get him in bed when I got here, but I can’t seem to say no to this kid. His heart is so pure and innocent. He wants what we all want.
Love and acceptance.
Knowing that my words and actions could affect Noah and his outlook on the world makes me nervous. That’s a lot of power to hold over someone so small. It’s daunting. But Raven has trusted me to be around her son, and I don’t want to break that. I mean, it can’t be too hard. I have enough counterexamples in my own childhood, so I can think of what Amos might do in a situation and do the opposite.
It doesn’t take long for me to notice Noah’s yawning and drooping eyes.
“Let’s get you in bed, little man,” I suggest.
Noah startles. “No, I’m awake. I’m not tired.” His claim is followed by him rubbing his eyes.
Holding back my smile so as not to provoke him, I reply, “You seem pretty tired to me.”
“But I’m not.” Water fills his eyes, and he sniffs.
Shit. What would Amos do? Probably mock Noah for showing emotion.
The opposite it is.
Gently, I remove the tub from his lap. He’s too groggy to even put up a fight. I pick him up and set him on my lap. As if I’vecomforted him a million times before, he leans into me, placing his head on my chest.
“I know you want to play. And I promise we will, but we can’t right now. You need to sleep. If you don’t get enough sleep, then your body won’t have the energy to play tomorrow.”
Leaving his head where it is, he asks, “I won’t be able to throw my football?”
“Yeah. You need sleep first.”
He’s quiet for a few long moments, making me think he’s fallen asleep. But then he says, “I don’t want you to leave. Mom says I can’t talk about it, but I used to live with bad men. They hurt Mom.”
My arms automatically wrap around him.
What happened to Noah and Raven? Did they even live in New York? The mysteries surrounding these two keep multiplying.
“I’m so sorry, Noah. No one should hurt your mom.”
Water dampens the front of my shirt.
“They hurt me too,” he admits in a small voice.
That’s my final straw. A tear trickles from my eye, and I use my arm to wipe it away.
What kind of monster would hurt this little boy?
I hold him closer for a second, then pull away so he can see my face. His cheeks are wet, and his chin wobbles. “I won’t let that happen ever again. No one will hurt you.”
He nods, then leaps forward, wrapping his arms around my neck. “Thanks, Griff.”
“Anytime, little man. Anytime.”
And I mean it. If the monsters who hurt Raven and Noah aren’t dead already, they will be. Soon.
