Whiskey Lullaby(22)

“Seriously, I’ve never really thought about it. I guess, going to Paris.”

“Wow. Paris,” he laughed. “How original.”

“Let me guess, yours would be skydiving, swimming with Great Whites, something that could possibly kill you.”

“I mean, the Great White thing sounds pretty fucking amazing.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I want to travel. I want to pay my grandma back for everything she’s done for me. And, you know, Great Whites and skydiving, making millions of dollars, yadda yadda yadda.” An uneasy laugh rumbled from his chest. “Maybe prove to my parents, wherever they are, that they made a mistake.”

“That bothers you,” I said as his hand lazily trailed over my arm.

“I wish it didn’t. I shouldn’t care.”

“How could you not?”

I felt him shrug.

My jaw clenched. It made me angry that not one, but two people could abandon their child. Just up and leave. It made me hurt for him that the people who should have made him feel safe and cherished and loved made him feel like he wasn’t good enough. I sat up and took his hands in mine. “They don’t deserve you.” I shook my head. “I don’t care how bad you say you are, Noah Greyson, you aren’t. You can pretend all you want, say you’re a Tin Man, but you’re a good person, and they don’t deserve so much as a fleeting thought from you.” All I wanted to do was make him believe he was good enough.

A slow smile worked over his lips and he brushed his fingers across my cheek. “I hope no one ever really hurts you because it’ll make you as cynical as me.” A line sank between his brow. “So…Paris, huh?” He leaned back against the side of his truck.

“Yeah, Paris.”

“You want to go because of the Eiffel Tower, because it’s the City of Romance?”

“No, I want to go for the food.”

He laughed, ducking his chin to his chest. “The food.”

“Heck yeah, I’ve heard they have the best food.” Another plane engine fired up, whirring and buzzing as it started down the runway.

“And here I thought I had you figured out.”

“What, you expected me to want to go for the lovey-dovey aspect of it?” I shook my head. “Please, I just want the baguettes and the chocolate.”

“Fair enough. Fair enough.”

“So… you know, maybe if you moved to Australia like you said you wanted to do, far away and all that jazz, then you could dive with the Great Whites—no cage of course— and get picked up by the Discovery Channel, in turn making millions of dollars and yadda yadda yadda. Kill three birds with one stone.”

The rumble of the plane lifting off whooshed over us, the wake blowing my hair across my face. I watched the plane climb with its passengers clearly visible through the tiny bubble windows, and I wondered where they were going, what they were doing.

“I don’t know that Australia sounds like such a good idea anymore,” Noah said.

“Oh, and why’s that?”

He grabbed my face, pulled me toward him, and pressed his lips over mine. “Because I’ve not had near enough of this yet, and I most certainly can’t find this in Australia.” He kissed me again, sweetly. Softly.

Hot air swirled around us when another plane passed overhead. That kiss felt like a promise, one that said I’d never find anyone like him ever again even if I searched the entire world.



It was a little after midnight when he dropped me off with a kiss goodnight. That blissful euphoria of the what might bes, the what could bes buzzed through me like an electric current, but that sense of happiness went out like a match in a thunderstorm the second I stepped inside and found Daddy sitting on the couch with a picture album opened on his lap and his eyes swollen from tears. Reality quickly set in and it made watching planes take off and stolen kisses seem so unimportant.

“Daddy,” I whispered before sitting on the sofa next to him. I put an arm around him and rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of Polo aftershave that always reminded me of him.

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled. “I just…” He swallowed, staring down at the page with a picture of me, Momma, and Bo putting cookies out for Santa. “I just don’t know how you lose someone that means so much.” His breath hitched. It’s a terrible feeling when someone you love hurts, when you know there’s nothing you can do to make things better. So instead of lying and telling him it would be okay, I said nothing.

“She’s just such a good person, and I don’t…” He took a breath. “I don’t understand why.”

“There is no why, Daddy.”

He shook his head. “Go on to bed, baby girl.”

“I’m fine.” And I sat next to him as he flipped through the album and cried. Sometimes the worst part of losing someone is feeling alone. I didn’t want him to feel alone.





21





Hannah





The next morning, we were on our way to Birmingham to see Dr. Nabors. I sat in the stiff clinic room chair, listening to the statistics, digesting the small likelihood that she may live, while Daddy clutched her hand. Ten percent survival. That didn’t sound like a lot, but it was more than what she’d been given a few weeks before. So, we signed the consent form and she was scheduled to start treatment in two weeks.

The ride home was quiet. Somber. I guess we were all thinking, or maybe trying to forget.

Noah’s truck was still there when Daddy pulled into the drive, but I didn’t look for him. There was too much chaos swimming in my head. The tightness growing in my chest made it hard to catch a full breath. Everything felt like it was pressing in on me. Daddy cut the engine, talking about what we’d have for dinner. Momma added something about sweet potatoes.

They were discussing dinner like everything was normal, and even though I’d been trying to pretend everything was normal for the past month, I couldn’t do it any longer. Most of the time when reality hits, it hits like a devastating tsunami. Hard and swift, pulling you under and not letting go until nothing in your world is recognizable. And it hit me just like that. Ten percent. Panic wound through me, stinging like a shot of lidocaine. I climbed out of the car and subtly rubbed over my chest to try to ease the tension. I let Momma and Daddy get out and walk inside. When the door closed, I slowly started toward the field. The situation was hopeless. I walked faster. I was going to lose her. Faster. And by the time I reached the wooden fence, I was in a full sprint with my heart banging against my ribs. The sudden breeze rustled the long grass as my feet pounded on the ground. I ran faster in an attempt to outrace my thoughts, and I didn’t stop until I was staring into the thick bamboo that surrounded the property. My chest heaved, my lungs begged for air. I knew I was far enough away that they wouldn’t hear me, so I screamed. I screamed so loud my throat burned; so long that my voice grew hoarse. When I couldn’t scream anymore, I braced my hands on my knees. “I’m angry,” I said to myself, or maybe to God. “It’s not fair to do this to me.” I was on the brink of tears when someone’s hand landed on my back, and I jumped.

“Hey,” Noah said, rubbing small circles over my shirt.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He walked around me and crouched down, scooping away the curtain of hair covering my face. “You’re not, and it’s okay to not be.”

The last thing I wanted was to fall apart in front of him but to be honest, he was the only person I didn’t have to be strong for, and it’s better to break in someone’s arms than alone. A small sob caught in my throat when I fell into his arms, clinging to him like he was something that would save me. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and breathed in the scent of redwood and spice while I cried. I broke into a million, tiny pieces and Noah was the only thing holding me together.

“You can’t keep it all in,” he whispered, stroking his hand over my hair. “I’ve got you, lady. I got you.”

And he did.

He let me cry in his arms, and every so often, he pressed gentle kisses to my cheek. His presence made me feel grounded, and I clung to that small piece of stability floating in a tumultuous sea. When I managed to pull myself together, I took a step back before wiping the tears from my face. “I’m sorry,” I said.

He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

The sky had faded to the deep navy blue of desk. Bullfrogs croaked in the creak, crickets chirped. “They’re probably wondering what on earth I’m doing.” I thumbed toward the house before wiping my face once again.

“Probably.”

We started across the field, and halfway to the house, he grabbed my hand and stopped me. “Look,” he said, “I may not have any idea about what you’re going through, but I’m here. I mean that.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded, still holding my hand in a silent “I’m here.”

Bo was out back playing tug of war with Sampson, and he looked up when we rounded the side of the house and headed to his truck. I thought about kissing Noah when he opened his door, then felt guilty for wanting something so inconsequential given the circumstances.