He checks all the tires while Asha uses his hoodie to wipe off the shaving cream. I grab my squeegee from the backseat and scrape the eggs off the windshield. It takes a while because they’re all crusted and frozen and gross.
“Why don’t you pop the hood?” Sam asks.
I go into the driver’s seat and push the release, then go back outside and lift the hood all the way. Sam comes up beside me to peer at the engine. His arms stick out of his black T-shirt, pale and skinny. He’s shivering.
“Doesn’t look like they messed with anything else,” he says. “You okay to drive?”
I nod, close the hood and hand him back his coat. He slips into it and turns up the sheepskin collar. My whiteboard is still in my hands; I write on it and show him.
Thanks.
A weird look passes over his face, like he doesn’t know how to take my gratitude. “Don’t mention it,” he says. He turns to Asha, who is pinching the shaving cream-covered hoodie by the tips of her fingers. “Hey, just so you know, I’m covering Andy’s shift tonight.”
They work together? Well, that explains their friendship.
Asha frowns. “Is he sick or something?”
“No,” he says. “He texted me to say he’s supposed to stop by the hospital. Noah woke up last night.”
My heart jumps into my throat. Noah woke up? Sam shoots me a meaningful look, and my fingers curl tighter around the whiteboard. I don’t know if he wants me to feel relieved or guilty. I’m both, really. But it also makes me feel even more foolish. If Noah’s going to be totally fine, what was even the point of saying anything? If I’d waited, he could’ve just pointed the finger at Warren and Joey himself, assuming he doesn’t have amnesia or something, and spared me all of this.
“That’s great,” Asha gushes, bouncing on her heels. “I was going to knit him a hat, but I don’t know what size his head is, so I’m working on a scarf instead.”