“He works late Fridays,” she argues, looking at me like I should know that.
“Sleepover?” I ask, but I am getting slightly worried. Doug’s parents often watch Tatum, but I don’t know if Izzie feels comfortable with them. At least not yet, which is my fault. And Mom’s.
“Savannah is with them,” she tells me with a knowing smile.
“My Savannah?” I can’t help but ask. “How do you even know her?”
“I ran into her with Izzie. I’m pretty sure that girl just wants to love you too.”
“She’s been hurt before, and I don’t want to be another…”
“You deserve to be happy, Noah. To fall head over heels and have a partner who’s got your back, even when things aren’t perfect,” she tells me, but I hope she hears it for herself too.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Savannah
Carry the Burden
Izzie and Tatum are sleeping, so I’m at the kitchen table, making the fixes my mom gave me on my book, resisting the urge to find Noah’s bedroom and learn all about him and his childhood, since this might be my only chance. They lost the game tonight, though Lacey says Noah played well, but even if they’re just moping over beers at Slapshots… I don’t want to be at home, living vicariously through my characters anymore, I want to be out there, taking chances and putting my heart on the line, because I feel like I haven’t been able to breathe properly since last weekend, and instead of blaming myself for putting myself out there, I’m wishing I’d had the courage to fight harder. To argue when Noah said he didn’t have the time to make me a priority. To take a moment to think and let him explain before running away from him, when I knew, even then, that the best thing to make me feel better would have been his arms.
There’s a knock on the door, but Mrs. Callahan warned me Doug might get home first, and he knocks before using his key, so I save my document and go check the little window to make sure before letting him in.
Only it’s Noah.
I assume he has the key, but he’s waiting on the doorstep, hands in his pocket, biting his bottom lip, like he knows I’m the one who’s here, and he’s letting me decide if he’s allowed in.
I take a deep breath, either to brace or calm myself, then open the door.
I want to get lost in his deep blue eyes. I want to jump into his arms and tell him to never let me go. I want a million other things in that vein, but instead I stand there staring at him, both of us caught in a game of who breaks the silence first.
“I’m sorry,” we both say eventually, at the same time, then let out one of those laughs that are more awkward than happy.
“I shouldn’t have assumed the worst without talking to you first. I know you would never do anything to hurt me.”
“I’d rather die,” he agrees. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t.”
I shiver and he takes off his sweatshirt, the same one I returned to him through Izzie, before I remember I’m holding the door, and invite him inside.
It won’t be cold anymore now the door is closed, but I still put on the sweatshirt he offers, because it smells like him, and it’s the closest I can get to a hug.
“When my dad died, my mom didn’t just stop coming to my games, she stopped functioning. I took care of Izzie and kept it under wraps because I didn’t want her taken away, but I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself. Even my mom. She gets better, but then she crashes, and I couldn’t trust anyone to carry the burden with me.” He looks at me with so much pain in his eyes. “She got mostly better after Tatum, but you were right, she won’t let Doug in, because she’s afraid to get hurt again, or to need someone, and I realized I was doing the same thing. I’ve been doing my best to hold everything together. My mom, my sister, the house, my brother…it was all on me.”
I want to reach out, to say something, or put my hand on his, which he’s nervously playing with in his lap, but I think he needs to get this out, so I wait.
“Making plans at the last minute after games, then hesitating when you invited me, that’s because losing puts me in a funk, and I don’t want to subject anyone to that, so I don’t reach out until I know how we did. Because if I’m not holding everything together, who will? It’ll all fall apart.”
“That’s not?—”
“I know, but that’s how I felt. Like I was protecting you by staying away. Keeping you at arm’s length as if that would prevent it from breaking me when I lost you. Refusing to let you in because I couldn’t stand the idea of being with you, then having to do it on my own again. But the thing is, if you love someone, you let them in, even on the bad days. I want to be with you for all the good times. And I won’t ever want to subject you to my moods during the bad times, but when the game ends, win or lose, all I want to do is find you. Whenever anything happens to me, I want you. And I don’t expect you to fix things or make them better, but also, just being with you does that. Even if it didn’t that would be okay, because I think I’d rather be miserable beside you than alone, or even happy with anyone else.”
I’m quiet, processing what he just said, my heart beating so fast I might be having a heart attack, but he isn’t done.
“I don’t ever want to burden you, Peaches, but you’re in my bones, and losing you wrecked me. I don’t want to pretend that you’re not…you’re my heart, Savannah. I love you so much I can’t breathe sometimes, and it scares the shit out of me, but not loving you is scarier.”
He leans forward and kisses me, like he couldn’t not, but pulls away sooner than I’d like, as if he isn’t sure he’s allowed to do that anymore, but I’m just glad I get to tell him, “I love you too.” I swallow.
He brings his hand to my cheek, his thumbs rubbing it, but in between kisses, he takes in my eyes, my lips, looking at me as if he’s worried I’ll disappear.
