My chest caves, the urge to reach out and hold him strong.
“She had a stroke my senior year of high school, lost movement in her left arm.” His laugh is sad. “She said she didn’t need it anymore, since she had a stud for a son.” He grins, but it falls flat.
“Her throwing arm,” I guess. “She played catch with you.”
“Every day since I could hold a ball.” He looks away. “She didn’t let it stop her from a damn thing, still cooked dinner, went on like nothing, where she could anyway. She was an accountant for a small firm, so it slowed her down, she lost some work from it, but she was ok, so it didn’t matter.”
I reach up, gripping the collar of my sweater, the sadness in his tone painful.
“That’s why you chose Avix,” I realize. He didn’t want to leave her to begin with, but after that, he couldn’t. He wanted to be there for her.
Noah nods. “She was good for a long time after that, and then the final game of my freshman season at Avix came. We won. I didn’t miss a single target that night. Man, I had never been on fire like I was that game.” His lips twitch as he remembers it, and I make a mental note to find the highlights later. “All I could think was I couldn’t wait to call my mom after, and I did. I was still on the field, still in gear with reporters flanking me from every angle, but I had to talk to her first. It rang a bunch of times, and when the call was finally picked up, it wasn’t her voice. I knew without being told it happened again. I just didn’t expect it to be worse than before.”
The ache in his voice is too much, so I shift closer, and his eyes come up to mine.
“Let’s go inside.” I nod, needing him to understand he doesn’t need to explain or prepare me. I’m going in regardless. I want to. I need to.
I think he needs me to…
“I’d like to meet her.”
He stares at me a long moment, and then he nods back. “Yeah, let’s go, ‘cause she’s dying to meet you.”
“She knows I’m coming?”
“Yeah, Juliet, she knows,” he whispers, turning his body so it’s facing me fully and only a foot away.
My throat runs dry, and when he reaches for my hand, I give it to him.
Together, we head inside the rehab center to meet the woman responsible for the man at my side.
A laugh slips out of me, and I fold my feet in the seat. “To be fair, my mom and dad tried to show me, but it never ended well.”
Ms. Riley, who has insisted several times I call her Lori, smiles. “But you’re learning okay now, from what I hear.”
You hear things?
“Maybe you weren’t quite ready for something new before,” she says gently, and I nod. “And maybe now, you are…” She speaks with the wisdom of a mother, warm and kind.
My pulse kicks against my chest, and her features soften before me.
“Yeah, maybe. I’ve got a pretty good teacher.” I look to her son, who winks, as if he was waiting for me to glance his way. With a smile, I look back to Lori. “My mom would literally pull every recipe out of the book and lock me in a chair until I made magic if she heard me whine how her instructions were lackluster, and then my dad would feel bad and force Mason to help too. And that would inspire my mom to invite all our friends.” I sigh. “It was downhill from there.”
Lori and Noah both laugh, and warmth spreads through me as, simultaneously, they reach for each other’s hands. Noah’s leaning against the side of her hospital bed, half sitting on it, half standing.
He just wants to be as close to his mom as he can. He wants her to know he loves and misses her. Appreciates her every word spoken and the inner strength it takes to laugh and smile when her world is a little less than it used to be.
Noah catches my eye, a calm in his I’ve yet to witness blindingly present.
“You have a large family, then?” Lori asks quietly, pulling my attention from Noah.
“I do, yeah. Aunts and uncles, cousins. Friends who are more like family.”
“And they’re good to you?”
I can’t help but smile. “Amazing. My parents” —a low chuckle escapes me, and I roll my eyes— “my brother calls them disgusting, but always with a smile. They’re just… all the things a person could wish for, you know?” I lift my shoulders. “We’ve been blessed.”
“Brilliant.” Her voice is low, as if a hopeful whisper.
I look to Noah, who stares at his mother’s limp left hand gently placed over her lap.