Hana nods soberly.
“So…Ryan’s control over Sidney was slipping,” continues Muriel. “And for him, we believe, it’s all about control.”
“He was really going to kill you,” repeats Noah.
I raise my face. “Yes.”
“How old were you?”
“Nineteen.”
“You were just a kid.” He stares at me for a moment. Then he gestures to the walls. “This is why you stay in town?”
“Yes.”
He turns to Hana and says, “Thank you.”
“No problem. Have a nice ride on your motorcycle!”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says to Muriel. “Thank you for letting me intrude on your Sunday.”
We all watch him leave. The heavy tread of his boots on the hardwood floor and the sound of the door closing shut behindhim. He’s the first person outside of our group to ever see this room and all the evidence of our almost decade-long obsession with death. And he didn’t run screaming, which I am willing to take as a sort of win.
Muriel sighs. “I can’t believe he ma’amed me. Though he does have excellent manners.”
“Yeah. I really wasn’t prepared for how much hotter he is up close,” says Hana. “But I thought it went well. Don’t you think it went well?”
“Jury’s still out on that one. Did you tell Sidney you were bringing him in here?”
“I didn’t even know I was going to do it,” says Hana. “But then I saw him standing there and just thought…fuck it.”
Muriel snorts.
Hana frowns in my direction. “Sidney, say something. I can take you salty, but I can’t handle silence. Are you mad at me or what?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” she asks. “You look like you’re experiencing big feelings.”
“I am.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But this is a good thing. He has all of the facts now and can make an informed decision as to whether he ever wants to talk to me again. Thank you.”
Muriel’s eyes widen for a second time today.
“You know, I refused to let Ryan control me. But that’s exactly what I’ve been allowing the situation he caused do to me for years.”
Hana nods sadly. “Yeah.”
“Women often carry the shame for things they didn’t do. The question is,” says Muriel, “what are you going to do about it?”
I get to my feet and stand tall. “Who wants a margarita?”
CHAPTER FOUR
No matter the question, day drinking is always the answer. Our laughter and music meant I didn’t hear the noises coming from outside until the late afternoon. No idea how long Noah’s been in my backyard. No idea why he’s in my backyard. Though the axe in his hands and pile of wood sitting neatly to the side offer some strong hints.
I grab him a beer out of the fridge. Hospitality was important to Grandma, and she trained me well. There’s a hopeful smile on my face as I head on out and hand over the ice-cold bottle. It’s got to be a positive sign—him being here performing manual labor.
“Just dealing with the tree limb that fell down during that storm,” he says. He looks like lumberjack porn come to life, standing there all sturdy and strong in his jeans, boots, and a tee. So many muscles. Just all the muscles in all the land.
