“You’re going to tell me avoiding it didn’t make it easier, the wound festered until he faced it?”
“No, my dad was fine. Or if he had any regrets, he hid them well, because we have never felt like anything other than the best things that ever happened to him. And we often bailed on those playdates so we could watch my brother’s games, which was great, because I had more fun in the stands with my dad than at a fake tea party with whichever classmate my mom scrounged up.” My dad says he was never good enough to go pro, so his unrealistic dream was quickly replaced by building a family with my mom, which was easier to accomplish. And he absolutely excels at it. “My mom was the one with the problem. With guilt over what happened. She was afraid of what she would see, so she didn’t let herself look. But as the one who got to watch those early games with him, that joy on his face, that pride…she was definitely missing out on something that would have made her cry way more happy tears than sad.”
* * *
We eat the cookies in the living room with Colt and David, but Noah is staring at me like we should get upstairs ASAP, or he just might ravage me in the living room, so I shake my head and grin like an idiot when he asks if I want more cookies or something to drink before we head to bed.
“He doesn’t regret it,” David says to me on the staircase.
“What?” I ask, looking over to Noah in the kitchen, where he’s literally tossing our plates in the sink to save time.
“Your dad,” he stops me. “As soon as he made that decision, as soon as you and your siblings were something concrete rather than a distant possibility, there is no way he could regret choosing you.”
“How—”
“I’m here and I am playing, but I would give absolutely anything to not be.” The intensity in his eyes squeezes my heart, because I understand exactly what he’s saying, and had no idea. I don’t think any of them do.
“I am so sorry, David.”
He nods stoically. “I just wanted you to know he isn’t pretending; you probably are the greatest thing he’s ever done.”
I give him a sad smile, not sure what else I can say.
“You good?” Noah asks, catching up to us.
“Yep, all good,” David assures him as if the moment never happened.
“Goodnight,” I say before he disappears into his room.
“What was that about?” Noah asks me.
“Nothing,” I assure him, knowing that he would press any other time, but instead I giggle as he lifts me up in his arms to carry me into his bedroom. My heart aches for David, but it’s also full, because I haven’t just somehow managed to get Noah. For the first time since I was a little kid, I’m pretty sure I have friends.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Savannah
How Do I Fix This?
I have a smile on my face when I wake up in Noah’s arms. The sun is shining in through his giant window, but I’m pretty sure it’s the kisses he’s peppering down my neck and on my shoulder that wake me up more than the light.
“Good morning,” he says into my shoulder blade when he realizes I’m awake. A huge part of me was terrified he’d regret his decisions from last night by this morning, but he seems to have doubled down. He’s kissing me and lazily running his fingers in patterns down my arms like he hasn’t a care in the world. And honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I want to tell Clay he was wrong, that Noah just needed a little more time. I want to introduce him to my brothers. Maybe this can be when someone shocks the world by caring more about me, even after he knows…
“What are you doing next Sunday?” I ask, trying not to sound nervous, or like it’s a big deal. “I know you have a game, but after?”
“I’m not sure how…can I let you know on Sunday?”
“Of course.” I don’t think Dallas would mind getting a ticket for me that doesn’t end up getting used, but I try to hide the hurt that I’m still a last-minute decision for Noah, not someone he wants to plan future things with.
* * *
Last night’s milk and cookies used up all the milk, so we go to Words and Lattes for breakfast. Noah holds my hand the entire walk over, wraps his arm around me while we wait in line, pays for our order, then brings me to sit in his lap instead of across from him in the booth.
“Scared I’ll run away?” I ask, mostly teasing, but also trying not to be nervous about what feels like a very momentous first sober outing as a couple.
“Just reassuring myself this is real.” His tone is also teasing, but his eyes find mine and the vulnerability in them makes me kiss him. Which gets us some looks from the other patrons, but honestly, at the moment, I don’t care.
Our food arrives, but Noah keeps me in his lap, which is awkward, but I don’t mind. Every time I bite my bottom lip, Noah kisses me, as if to say he’ll always reassure me from my insecurities.
