And just like that, the silence that had been pressing down on us softened just enough to breathe through.
When I shifted, on the pretense of looking toward the back of the train, I met Noah’s gaze and noticed the corner of his mouth twitching.
It was almost funny that once again, as I was resisting every urge in my body to lean into him, his mom was right here.
Watching the passing scenery, but make no mistake about it, she was also watching me.
She had liked his ex-wife. What had he said? That his mom was having a harder time adjusting to the divorce than he was.
Not that I could relate.
Neither of my parents had liked Leo. Mom definitely hadn’t, and although Dad had been…tolerant, I couldn’t help but think he’d have been almost as happy as Mom must be that Leo was out of my life.
Well. Almost out of my life. There were still those unanswered voicemails sitting in my phone.
Not to mention a few ominous emails from the station.
The whistle on the engine blew again, and the sound took me back to my dad, with more than a twinge of melancholy.
“My dad would have loved this,” I said softly, not meaning to say it out loud.
She turned to me, brows raised with unexpected gentleness. “I understand he passed?”
I didn’t bother asking how she knew.
Because Babs.
“Two years ago. But he loved trains. He set up this elaborate miniature train village in our basement when I was a kid. Hills, trees, glowing little houses with streetlamps and everything.”
Her lips quirked into a real smile. “You must have loved that as a child.”
“We did—me and my sister. He’d narrate the routes, and we’d use our Polly Pockets as the townspeople… I haven’t thought about that in forever.”
A tightness formed in my chest, the kind that wasn’t entirely sad. Just…unexpected.
“Noah loved trains too,” Mrs. Grady said, her voice warming. “Thomas the Tank. We had every single one. He’d line them up and if I moved one…oh, the drama.”
I laughed softly, glancing sideways. “You didn’t let your mom move your toys?”
Noah just rolled his eyes, leaning back against the bench. Maybe a little embarrassed, which, if possible, made him even more adorable.
She went on fondly, “He even used to perform little ‘operations’ on them. If one of them got a scratch, or lost a wheel, he insisted it needed surgery. Same with our goldfish.”
I turned to him, wide-eyed. “You operated on your goldfish?”
“I didn’t have a choice!” He looked totally innocent. “I’d come home from school and find one of them just…floating. I couldn’t just give up on it. So, did I perform a few questionable procedures? Maybe. But my intentions were good, and in my defense, I was only eight.”
“Don’t stop there, Noah,” Mrs. Grady said, obviously holding back laughter.
Noah winced. “Mom bought back-up fish. I thought I was saving them, but in reality…”
“I’d just swap them out when he wasn’t looking,” Mrs. Grady said, grinning now. She was giving me a glimpse of the closeness between them. “You’d be amazed how many emergency pet replacements I’ve pulled off.”
Noah shook his head. “I thought I was a miracle worker.”
“Don’t tell me you operate on Plink and Jumbo,” I said.
He gave me a look, one brow lifting. “No. They’re very low maintenance, aside from Jumbo’s diet issues. But…” He hesitated, then glanced away. “There was this one fish. A beta named Cosmo. He started floating on his side. I thought it was over. But I did some research, learned there was a thing called swim bladder disease.”
