“Let me get that.” He hops out of the truck and makes his way to my side, opening the car door and holding out his hand for me. I place my palm in his, careful to try to exit the truck with some grace as the evening breeze attempts to lift my blackfloral dress. My cowgirl-style boots hit the gravel, and I wobble slightly, and Noah places his hand on my hip to steady me.
“Thank you,” I say softly, and to my surprise, he keeps hold of my hand and leads me into the bar. I shouldn’t read into it. Noah and I have always been affectionate friends. Hell, I’ve shared a bed with the man, but something about this feels intimate, close, familiar, and dare I say it, normal.
Inside, he orders two of Trent’s favorite beers, chicken wings, and dirty fries, and then, I silently follow him towards the booths, passing tables of couples and groups of friends I’ve seen around town over the years all sharing platters of food and drinks. I prepare for the comments and the disgusted looks about how close Noah and I are, but they don’t come. One woman gives me a friendly smile as I slip inside the booth.
Noah slides in opposite me, and I feel a tinge of sadness at the loss of his touch. Maybe I need to get laid. I haven’t been with anyone since Trent. I canceled on my friends so many times that they left the ball in my court to contact them when I was ready. Noah is the only call I answer, the only person who can get me to leave my apartment when it doesn’t involve a run.
“Are you okay? You look like you went somewhere in your head just then,” Noah asks, his tone curious.
I give my head a little shake. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He eyes me suspiciously, and I know I can’t get anything past him. The man can read me like a book.
“I was just thinking about the idea of dating again.” His jaw flexes, and he busies himself, handing out napkins and cutlery.
“You want to start dating?” There is a tightness to his words, and for a moment, I think he might be judging me, or maybe be jealous, and that thought makes me happier than it should.
“I don’t know.” I shrug.
“You haven’t mentioned anything before.” He stares at me intently, and I furrow my brows.
“No, I didn’t, because it didn’t seem important. Do you think it’s too soon? Are you judging me?” I ask, tone firm.
“No,” he says in a curt tone.
“You are.”
“I’m not. Do what you want.” He rearranges his napkin and cutlery for the third time, and I snort a laugh.
“Are you jealous, Noah?” I ask with a teasing tone, and with a straight face, eyes penetrating mine, he leans in a little closer.
I freeze, trying to decipher how I should respond when he gives his answer. Do I want him to be jealous? How would I feel at the prospect of him being jealous of me dating someone? Noah and I have only ever had that one kiss, a kiss that we never spoke about. I decided it was a slip-up, a moment of weakness where we were both seeking comfort. But truthfully, it didn’t feel like that at all.
“Yes, I’d be jealous if you started dating someone.”
Well, shit, how do I respond to that?
I responded to Noah’s declaration with avoidance and sinking three beers. Thankfully, the server saved my ass and brought over the tray of food at that exact moment, and it took the heat off me. We’ve spent the past two hours drinking, listening to the live band, and sharing our favorite stories of Trent.
“…and he was so drunk he woke up to pee and thought the closet was the bathroom and peed all over Brad’s kit, and you know how anal that man is with his stuff. He had to throw it all out, and refused to use it ever again.” Noah shares the story through tears of laughter, and I clutch my stomach, a mixture ofpain and laughter as I hear the tales from Trent’s military days with Noah, my brother, and the boys.
“He never could handle a drink.” I chuckle as I wipe a lone tear away from my cheek.
“No, he couldn’t,” Noah says, and there is a shift to his tone. The playfulness is gone, and we sit in silence as the reality of what we lost hits us again. Grief really is like a wave. There are brief breaks, and then you are hit with the pain of missing them once again. The knowledge of knowing that the memory of him is all we have. There won’t be any new ones; all we have are the old, and with that thought comes a big hit of the grief wave, followed by a deep ache around my heart.
God, I still miss him so much.
To add salt to the gaping wound of grief, the band begins playingLady May by Tyler Childers, Trent’s song for me.
Noah must have known because his hand reaches out and squeezes mine.
“We’ll never forget him. He left too big a mark on this world for that to ever happen.”
I nod and blink through the tears that have begun to fall, swiping them with the fingertips of my free hand.
“Come on, Victoria May Walker, let’s dance,” he says as he stands and pulls me up out of the booth, not giving me the opportunity to decline. We join the other couples on the dance floor, and Noah places his hand on the lower part of my back, pulling me in so we are chest to chest, and my hand slides into his. We sway to the music, and my hand glides up his muscular arm and lands on his shoulder. This is everything I need at this very moment. To feel some human contact, to not feel alone, and Noah knew. He has this unique way of knowing what I need before I do, and I will forever be grateful to have him in my life.
With each passing year, he helps turn the hard days into something that isn’t blanketed in darkness and pain. While weremember Trent, we are unknowingly creating new memories together, and that is both a refreshing and confusing feeling. The song ends and they begin playingTennessee Whiskeyand Noah’s hold on me becomes a little firmer and I let my head rest against his chest as I allow my body to melt into his, listening to the sultry beat and the words that resonate so much, because Noah has saved me from reaching for the bottle too many times to count, probably more than he will ever know. Something feels different about this visit, and I can’t pinpoint why, but I like it more than maybe I should. When I feel his cheek rest against my head and the grip he has on my hand tighten, something inside me shifts, as if my body were buzzing back to life, feelings, and sensations that have been buried under the weight of my sadness. For the first time since I lost Trent and my baby, the pain feels marginally lighter, and it’s thanks to the man that’s holding me in his arms like I might mean something more to him than just his friend.
