“Oh …” Noah dropped his darkened gaze to the floor I’d just swept. “So, um … why were you thinking about your friend’s mom?”
“Because I’m going to see her tomorrow.” I swallowed, keeping my eyes ahead at the Produce sign I used to repeatedly smack my head against.
“Why?”
“Because …” I sucked in a massive breath of air, puffing my chest out until I couldn’t take any more in. “She just wants to tell me some stuff … about, uh, my friend. And … I guess I’m just nervous about it … because I don’t know what she’s going to say.”
Noah nodded, brow furrowed and eyes squinted. I knew he didn’t quite understand what I was saying and didn’t know what to say in reply.
So, I cleared my throat and said, “Anyway, what were you saying before? Something about Mario?”
He perked up immediately, welcoming the change in subject, and I forced my attention to remain on him while I finished closing up the shop. Then, with the doors locked and the keys in my pocket, we headed home.
As we walked, we passed by other neighbors and people I’d started to consider friends, all who waved and greeted us with friendly grins. None of them looked at me as a villain anymore—not even grouchy old Mrs. Montgomery, whose mouth even twitched into something resembling a smile every now and then. And it irked me all of a sudden that I was allowing Billy’s mom—someone from my dark, dirty past—to infiltrate this happy, sunshiny bubble I had created for myself. She didn’t fit into this place, whatever she was going to tell me wouldn’t fit either, and, God, what the fuck had I been thinking, even mentioning David in her presence?
“Do you like video games?” Noah asked as we turned toward our neighborhood.
“I do. I haven’t played them in a long time, but I used to play a lot when I was a kid.”
“Why don’t you play anymore?”
I shrugged. “I just don’t really have anything to play on. I don’t even have a TV or—”
“Why not?”
“Why what?”
Noah walked along the edge of the curb as we turned the corner, then kicked his feet through a puddle leftover from last night’s rain. I smiled at the childlike innocence he still managed to hold on to, even at twelve years old and after withstanding the abuse his father had put him and his mother through.
It was a good thing that he could still be like this even if only sometimes. Carefree. Happy. It was likely a survival mechanism—I knew that—but it was good. I just hoped he could hold on to it longer than I had.
“Why don’t you have a TV?” He hopped back onto the curb and continued to stroll beside me.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m too busy reading to think about it. And when I’m not reading, I’m hanging out with you guys, and you already have a TV.”
It was a valid point even if my attention was more on Ray than it was on whatever was playing.
“Yeah, but if you had a TV, then I could come over and play video games with you.”
With narrowed eyes, I glared at him as we turned onto Daffodil Lane. “Why can’t I just play video games at your house?”
Noah rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Well, you never have before.”
I barked with a laugh that rang through the night. “Dude, you’ve never asked!”
“Yeah, well …” He chuffed and shrugged begrudgingly. “You’re always too busy with my mom.”
I quelled my laughter when I saw the hurt flash across his face and heard the rejection in his voice. Noah had been, first and foremost, my friend, and it hadn’t occurred to me that since I’d started seeing his mom as something more than, well, his mom, I might’ve also, in turn, put our friendship on the back burner. Sure, I’d taken the time to teach him some self-defense, and I had dinner with him and Ray most nights. But we rarely took time for us nowadays, and that was my fault.
“So, hey, maybe I should get a TV,” I said as we approached our respective houses. “And you can bring your Switch over for us to play.”
“You’d have to get a controller too,” he pointed out, immediately perking up. “That way, we can play together.”
“You wanna come with me to pick them out?”
Noah grinned as he walked backward up the porch steps. “Yeah, sure! When do you wanna go?”
“This weekend?”
His face lit up like the lamp hanging from the porch ceiling. Relief and contentment wrapped themselves around me, only to unravel quickly when Noah pushed the door open without needing his key.
We entered the house to find Ray standing in the kitchen and washing dishes, her back to the door.
“Hey, Mom!”
“Hi!” she called happily without even a glance over her shoulder. “How was—”
I thrust a hand toward the door as Noah pushed it shut. “You left this unlocked?”
“What?” Ray turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel to dry her hands with. She looked over to see my impatient expression and hand, still gesturing toward the door. “Oh, yeah. I figured you guys were coming—”
“But you didn’t know.”
Her lips pressed into a terse line as her hands stilled within the towel. She swallowed before addressing the boy frozen at my side. “Hey, honey, go get in the shower, okay? You can tell me about your night after.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him turn toward me, then back to her before nodding. But I didn’t look at him. I stared at his mother with only one thing on my mind.
What if it hadn’t been us?
Noah left us alone, and once I heard the bathroom door close behind him, I took a few steps toward Ray, slowly closing the gap between us.
“Ray, you can’t be like that,” I said, keeping my voice down. The last thing I wanted was to freak Noah out. But, shit …
“Like what?” She was exasperated, laughing incredulously and shaking her head. “I knew you guys were coming back, so I unlocked the door. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that Seth is out there, and you have no idea when—”
“He’s not coming back.”
I scoffed. “Oh, he’s not, huh?”
She wet her lips and dropped her gaze to the towel in her hands. “No.”
“How do you know that? Is he dead?”
Her jaw shifted as she shook her head. “No, but …”
“Then, you can’t assume that he’s not coming back. And you don’t know when that’s going to happen, if it does, and if I’m not here—”
“Jesus, Soldier.” She rolled her eyes back to mine. “You’re being freakin’ ridiculous.”
“Am I though?”
She laughed again, unraveling her hands and letting the towel hang limp as she walked toward me. “Yes.” She outstretched her arms, and I met her halfway, bending at the waist to wrap my arms around her hips for hers to wrap around my neck. “I told him to stay away, and he will. It’s been months.”
“Oh, so you think he’s going to just start listening to you now?”
“Yes,” she replied, stern and serious. “I told him I’d call the cops if he ever came back, and the last thing he wants is to be arrested again.”