“I know,” Tabby said again. “Iknowyouknow where he is.”
He still said nothing.
“I think you’ve known the whole time. It never sat right with me that Dad would leave with no way to check in if something went seriously wrong.”
Noah ground his cigarette out on the step and pulled out a fresh one.
“I think you’ve got his number. I think he calls you every month or so to touch base, hear all the stories and find out how we are. I think that’s why he’s lasted this long, even though he must miss all of us. Because you’re giving him highlight reels.”
Noah’s lighter snapped in front of his face. “You’re smart, Tabs. No one can deny that.”
“Yeah, big fucking deal. Are you gonna tell Dad about Jo? I mean… Mum?”
He took a deep drag.
“Think he’ll come back if you do?” she pressed.
Noah turned away, and she took that to mean he didn’t know.
“I think he’d come back,” she said. “Even Dad’s not omnipotent enough to have seen this coming.”
Still nothing.
Noticing her joint was out, Tabby snatched Noah’s lighter and ignited it. “So,” she said, exhaling sweeter smoke than what was pouring from Noah’s cigarette. “Who else knows?”
Noah’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “No one.”
He was lying, but Tabby knew better than to push it. His shoulders were set, and his green eyes were wary—he was ready to walk at any moment.
“Sam was right,” she said, trying a different tact. “He’s been gone forever at this point. He’s just being an asshole.”
Her brother-in-law bristled the way she’d hoped he would. “Maybe he knows everything isn’t done yet.”
“Or maybe he’s gotten tied down wherever he’s living, which is Bali, I think. Ubud. He lived there before we were born. He liked it out there.”
The tiniest of creases in Noah’s brow. So it was true, all the things she’d suspected. So many times since he’d been gone, she’d thought about flying to Indonesia and starting a massive manhunt, but now she knew it would have been pointless. Noah would have just called ahead to warn him, and Edgar DaSilva would have been smoke in the wind.
Noah had kept their dad from them. Gone behind their backs. Lied to their faces by omission. She balled her fist, digging her nails into her palm.
“Tabby...”
“What?”
“Don’t tell Nikki. Please. Your dad… I asked him not to… he wanted…”
Hearing the strain in his voice, Tabby uncurled her hands. As much as it sucked, as much as she wanted to hate Noah, she knew why he’d done what he did. He loved her dad and probably promised not to tell her, Sam, or Nix anything about where he was. He’d been put in an impossible situation. And after he and Nix fell in love, how was he supposed to be like, ‘Surprise! I knew where your dad was this whole time!’
She returned her gaze to the night sky with its half-assed stars. Hardly anyone wanted to do bad things on purpose. Maybe even no one. People just did what they thought was right. People tried their best.
Even Mum? Even Toby?
She clenched her joint-free hand again. Everything was suddenly too sharp, like when Sam had come into the studio and told her who Jo was.
“It would be easier if I could hate her,” she said. “But I don’t hate her. I liked her.”
“You don’t know her.”
“What?”
