“I’m good,” he says quietly. “I moved out of the frat house this year, grabbed my own place by the coffee shop.”
“Ta-da,” Ryder says from behind me.
I startle, glancing first at Noah then back to Ryder, whose grin is now clean, minus the toothpaste crowding around his lips. “Good job. We’re going to leave soon. Find your shoes.”
Ryder doesn’t listen, of course. He ducks around me and pokes his head out from around my waist, eying Noah. His small hand tugs at my T-shirt. Strangers are still something we’re working on.
“Ryder, this is my friend Noah.” I reach around and pull him out to stand in front of me, my hands draped over his small arms. “And this is my nephew, Ryder,” I say to Noah.
His shoulders droop as soon as I say it, even as a charming smile spreads to his lips. He’s nice to Ryder, asking him a few questions while I try not to fall apart. I do anyway.
“We have an appointment,” I say, cutting them both off. “And we’re going to be late. Find your shoes, Ryder.”
Ryder runs off, leaving me in an epic stare contest with Noah.
“Can I come by later? Can we catch up?” he asks.
I shake my head. Again, it’s the opposite of everything I want to do because if I’m being honest, I want to hug him and lay my lips against his and just stand there in that embrace for a few minutes until the world calms back down and I find my center.
“I really have to go, Noah. Thanks for stopping by.”
I close the door without looking at him, certain that if I open it again, he’ll still be standing there, waiting. That was his thing all along, right? He was good at standing by while I tried to be an adult and live life like I was fine on my own.
I am fine on my own, I think, spinning back around to run up and find my own pants. I am fine, but I don’t want to be fine on my own anymore.
Noah
Hell is returning to the one person you want to see more than anything only to have her cut the meeting short because of an appointment. Hell is waiting for the promise of her smile, the smell her perfume, the glimpse of anything familiar—only to stand there with happier memories.
Reagan wasn’t a dream standing in her doorway this morning. She was a parallel universe.
I slump back in my office chair and spin, fixated on the ceiling above. My new place is a tiny white box. I brought my computer, my bed, and a few suitcases. Those are still mostly unpacked in the corner. I feel like I’m setting myself up to fail without so much stuff. I can pack what I brought in one truckload one night and it wouldn’t be a problem. I could quit college now and retreat back to Montana. Except what the hell was I going to do there? Splendid was a box, too. Sure, Montana was big sky country, but it had collapsed on me years ago.
I could do this. I could finish senior year and graduate and follow through on my promise to my mother. My old man might even be pleased too. I’m convinced he still leaves his phone on in case I need to be bailed out. I could get my shit together and move on from this summer. But I can’t move on from her, not until I hear from her lips that whatever we had is officially over.
That night, I knock on the front door of the bungalow with a pizza in my hand.
I hear tiny feet race through the house on the other side of the door. It wrenches open and Ryder pokes his head out. His mouth is stained orange, his hair sticking up like he just freed his finger from an electrical socket.
“You again?”
I take a deep breath. “I brought pizza.”
The small boy tilts his head up, side-eyeing me. I can’t help it, I laugh.
“Ryder, I told you to wait. We don’t have to open the door here to everyone who knocks,” says Reagan from inside.
“But it’s your friend.”
“My….” She opens the door, and the concern weighting down the blue of her eyes fades. “Oh, Noah.”
Ryder looks between us as months of unspoken words swirl around us, dragging us deeper into a silence that’s picked apart my heart. I was wrong, I think, that she wanted to see me again. She wants nothing to do with me.
I thrust my arm forward. “I brought pizza. For dinner. To eat.”
She nods, not caring that I’m standing on her doorstep like a bumbling idiot. Fuck. This went so much better in my mind on the way over.
“I like pizza,” Ryder says. He reaches out and grabs my hand, yanking me through the door. Reagan watches, stepping away at the last minute to let me inside.
She places her hand on his small shoulder, stopping his steps. He lets go of my hand and I walk to the small table she’s set up where the black leather couch used to be. A smaller couch sits up against the wall now, the room completely flipped and arranged. A perfect imitation of what a home should be. A reflection of what she had built for herself upstairs in her bedroom.
Something about it doesn’t sit well with me.
She bends down to her nephew. “Please don’t invite anyone in without asking me first. Okay, buddy?”
He tips his head down, his small body curling forward. “Yes, Auntie.”
Reagan softly smiles and leans forward, giving the small boy a kiss on his cheek. My breath lodges itself in my chest, refusing to pass through my lungs as it should.
“Okay, now let’s get some plates and we’ll have pizza.”
He nods again, then walks into the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye I watch Ryder drag a stool to the counter so he can reach the plates. He returns to the living room a few minutes later, bowed backward by the weight of three plates and silverware.
Reagan doesn’t say anything to me. Hell, she barely looks at me, even as I help the little guy out with the plates. The three of us sit at the table and stare at the pizza box, the quiet way too uncomfortable.
“Wait, where are you going?” Reagan asks as Ryder jumps down from his seat. “It’s time to eat.”
“I forgot Bob.”
I raise my eyebrows at her from across the table. She only shrugs and reaches for the pizza box. “His dinosaur.”
Ryder hops back into his chair and tosses up a ragged stuffed T-Rex onto the tabletop. “Bob’s hungry too. He likes pizza. Especially pepperoni.”
The rest of dinner goes by the same way. Reagan keeps quiet while Ryder asks question after question. I pick at my pizza, glancing up at her from time to time. I catch her doing the same but instead of ducking her head back down, she holds my stare with sad eyes.
When she gets up to clear the table, I reach out and run my fingers up her arm. I circle my thumb over her wrist, her heart beating wildly under the thin skin separating us. For one tiny slip of a moment, she rests against my arm. Then Reagan is off again, trying to clean up as I try to do the same.
“Will you talk to me?” I ask, packing up the few leftover slices of pizza. “Tell me to go, and I’ll walk out right now.”
She tosses the dishes into the sink, spraying sudsy water over the countertop. She curses quietly under her breath. When she turns to face me, her eyes are wide and full of questions. She opens her mouth, my heart hinging on the words she’s about to utter, but none come. Falling apart was never some slow wreck for us. We were combustible from the start. And now, in the quiet of her kitchen, with the smell of lavender soap in the air, we’re in flames.
“Let me get him to bed, okay?” She hands me a beer from the fridge. “Have a seat outside if you want. I finally cleaned it up after everyone left. It was a mess.”
Her fingers linger over mine. I soak up as much of her as I can, feeling deep that this truly is it for us, that I’m going to wake up any minute now and find myself alone. Her hair is longer and wavy. Her bangs skirt the top of her sharp cheekbones. And that mouth of hers, usually full of such sharpness and biting banter, falls flat into a thin line of raspberry.
“Reagan.”
She pulls her hand out of mine and brushes back her bangs from her glasses. “I don’t have words for you and me, Noah.”
I lean forward and kiss her forehead.
“Me either.”
Reagan
I grab a beer then head outside by the small fire Noah has burning in the fire pit. I hover by the empty chair beside him, wishing more than anything to sit in his lap and bury my head against his chest. I sink into the empty chair instead, staring straight into the fire.
The flames reach out into black night, splitting it open with light. It’s beautiful as the flames flicker and grow. It’s beautiful and quiet and warm. And I think I’ll keep telling myself watching the fire is interesting instead of telling Noah what I need to say right now.
How do you pick up pieces when it was instantly shattered? How do you start again when it already seems so final? Everything feels so much bigger than us, the weight of life and growing up. The reality that we have work and bills and student loans, that I have a tiny human to take care of now.
My toes curl into the grass and on a long exhale, I lean my head back and gaze up the stars above. A knot twists in my chest because I think back to summer nights in Montana not too long ago. Of dancing below those stars. Of lying on a blanket with Noah and making love in fields that stretched out until they collided with the giants that surrounded the valley of Splendid. I miss that river. I miss his touch. I miss everything, and he’s right beside me.
No one tells you that you can love someone but feel so alone. I love him more than anyone I’ve ever loved. In a few short months, he turned my world upside down.
“You’ve got to let me in, Rea. You’ve got to tell me what you’re thinking. What do you want?” His voice cracks, echoing the snap of a fire log that splits and collapses to the side of the fire pit.
It’s not cold out, yet I still shiver. I rub my hands over my shoulders, my fingers grazing the scar that’s still healing on my left arm.
“Don’t do this. Don’t fuck around and waste what we could have because you’re back behind your wall.”
I drop my legs to the ground and spin in my chair, leaning close to him. I focus on his lips, afraid that if I meet that burning stare of his, I’ll crumble. “Don’t come back expecting everything to be the same as it was back in Montana. It’s not.”
Noah closes the space between us and grabs the beer from my hand. “You’re right, it’s not. Life happens. Plans change. We all have to grow up and we’ve both had to do it earlier than our friends. I get it, but I can’t live every day of my life punishing myself for everything that happened. I can’t, and you can’t either. That’s all I’m saying. Don’t go away now. Don’t hide away again. I can’t lose you too.”
I tip forward, and my mouth collides with his. I can’t tell him what I need to say. I can’t give voice to the pain of having to give up my life for the sake of my nephew’s. Of how I found my sister, but she never wanted me to find her. But it doesn’t matter because I kiss him until those silent words pass my lips and imprint on his, until he sucks them in. His hands grab my face and he kisses me back just as angrily.
“Everything and nothing has changed,” I say when we pull back for breath. “But mostly everything. Including us.” Still I get up and curl into his lap. His arms wrap around me tight and it’s perfect. “Let’s pretend for tonight it’s all okay. But in the morning, we’re going to let this get uncomplicated. You’re going to finish college and I’m going to take care of Ryder—”
“Who’s going to take care of you?”
I nuzzle closer. “You’re such a liar, Noah Burke. You let the world think you’re this horrible guy but the truth is you’re the best one I know. And I’m so happy to have loved you, even if it was for a summer.”
“Loved me? Fuck.”
Contrary to what your English professors might tell you, the past tense can make an impact sometimes. And right now, between the two of us, I say “loved” as if I could draw a line and simply end our story.
“If that’s what you want, if that what you feel, then it’s something we need to fight for. You can’t just walk away from this.” He peppers kisses over my eyelids, my temple, and cheek. He pulls me close, his fingers rough, his movements jerky. “I’m begging…shit…don’t give up on me. Please.”
I kiss the hollow of his throat and thread my hands into his hair, pulling out the elastic. I run my fingers through his hair and sit back, watching for one last time as the light draws me into those eyes of his. I’m going to miss the dimples that sit at the edge of his lips. Of that smile that’s hiding from me now.
“I’m just growing up, babe. I’m not in New York, but Kelsey comes back from rehab soon and Trina’s friend got me a job. You have senior year and a future to figure out. This is all just growing pains.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “I never liked it when you were smarter than me.”
I laugh, but the sound is strangled with the tears I’m sniffing back. “I’m not saying goodbye. That’s not what we’re good at. All I’m saying is that after tonight you’re going to leave and do your thing and I’m going to stay and do mine, and we’ll be okay.” It’s just one step after another, one more breath, one more blink. Moving on is ordinary in its parts, but no one tells you that you end up shedding pieces of yourself every time it happens. We’re all stories stuck in constant revision. “We’ll be okay this way.”
“I wish more than anything that we had more time. I wish more than anything…”
I kiss him again to try to stem my heart from breaking any further. “For then, it was perfect.”
Chapter Eighteen
Reagan
“Is Mommy still sick?” Ryder asks.
I run a comb through his hair, then wet my finger, scrubbing off the last bit of jelly around his mouth from breakfast. “Napkins, little man. We need to teach you how to use napkins.”
“Well, is she?” he asks.
I glance at the clock in the kitchen, cringing because if we don’t get out the door soon, we’re going to miss the bus and I’ll be late to work again. Luckily my new boss has kids of her own and is slightly understanding. I say slightly because I have to work through lunch to make up for being late so I can leave at five to pick Ryder up from Trina’s. Of course today I have to leave early to pick up my sister and get her settled at the bungalow.
“Mommy is going to better. But she’s going to need lots of hugs and kisses from you, okay?”
We rush outside and luckily grab the bus. “And she’ll be here when I get home?”
Kelsey better not make a liar out of me. “Yes, honey.”
I drop him off with Trina, who he adores, then rush to work. It’s the same mindless tasks day after day. I’m paid to organize everyone else as an assistant at a digital marketing agency. I haven’t been here long, but the few projects I do get to work on are projects that my managers were too lazy to do. They get the credit, but I get the “experience.” That’s how my manager Alicia sold it anyway. Trina’s friend who helped me get the job assured me I could sneak in some copywriting after I get established. That’d she’s see if I could take on more writing work in addition to the administrative side. If that promise ever pans out, I’d welcome it sooner rather than later. I want to poke my eyes out with a spoon most days.
I’m not going to bitch. I get health insurance and a small, but steady, check. It’s not New York, but how long was I going to make it last there anyway? That city ate girls like me for breakfast.
My gaze drops to the postcard of The New Yorker I have pinned to my cubicle, then to a photo of me and Ryder at the zoo. I wish I had his bravado sometimes. I miss being able to brush everything off and move on. I miss when dreams seemed possible and real. Then there’s the crumbled Post-it note saved from the Seven Up game that I taped to my monitor. Noah’s bold handwriting, not exclaiming I was anyone famous or extraordinary, just that I was myself: Reagan Landry.
And I miss Noah.
*
The beauty of summer is that it bursts over the quietness of spring, bright like the splash of a fresh plum in your mouth. It crashes over the soft green days and washes them over with sun and ligh
t. Summer burns and burns until one day, the moon begins to rise earlier and darkness settles in. And what were days full of infinity slowly fade and die off to autumn.
October sneaks up on me. School started for Sutton, then Kelsey returned in September, and now I have a week left of October before I have to face the fact that this year is quickly slipping by. The worst is that I can’t do anything about it. As fast as the seasons change, so did my life. Suddenly I’m a little sister again, and an aunt, and I’m becoming entrenched in the daily grind of post-grad life. This is not the future I pictured for myself when I walked across the stage in May.
“We have to talk,” Kelsey says, interrupting me. It’s probably for the best. Thoughts about Noah were soon to follow anyway and I don’t want to fall down that rabbit hole. Two months of not seeing him have been hellish when I know he’s in the same city as me.
I close my book and look up from the couch. She carries out two steaming mugs of peppermint tea from the kitchen.
“We’re not getting a dog, Kels.”
She laughs and sits on the opposite end of the small couch. It’s hard to remember that this place was filled with people and noise and chaos this time last year. Trina’s been helping carry the rest of rent, agreeing that for now, it’s best just to have me here with Kelsey and Ryder. Maybe it’s for the best, but it’s still weird. It’s weird to be back in Portland but wedged between the past and my new future. Everyone has moved on, and as much as I want college back and the few friends I had, it wouldn’t be the same.
No one tells you about this either when you graduate. The world suddenly opens up and swallows you whole. And what you dreamed about with you first job and freedom from classes and homework is suddenly empty time. Work is for a paycheck, and free time is used for something called hobbies. Trina has been trying to get me to go out to a wine bar for a paint night. And Mati dragged me out for a short night of knitting with her friend Aubrey.
Anything More Than Now (Sutton College #2) Page 18