My laugh is short and humorless. “I might be closer to causing a blackout.”
“He can cause one himself just fine.” She sighs, then her hand reaches out, resting lightly over mine. Her touch is featherlight, but it anchors me somehow. “He’s been taking care of me for many years. It’s about time someone takes care of him.”
Despite how much I want to say, I clamp my mouth shut.
“I know you’ve seen the bruises,” she continues.
I slowly look up at her as she keeps talking.
“They are there because of me. He’s angry with me, so he fights. He can’t yell at me, he never does, but I’m a bother. I know that. So he goes there to fight.” Her eyes turn watery, and I feel like a bird caught in a net with no escape. “Because he’s stuck here with me.”
I wasn’t prepared to find this here—the missing piece of Noah’s puzzle. I wasn’t sure I could be one of his missing pieces, but after seeing his reaction about me meeting his mom, I realize we are from two different puzzle boards.
Her hand on me starts shaking, and I cover it with mine.
“You are not a bother. You’ve never been,” I state firmly, locking my eyes with hers. “You are his mother. And you worrying about his well-being tells me more than anything else. You love your son.”
“I do.” Her voice trembles with each word. “But he is stuck here with me. Because of me.” Her grip on me tightens. “He can’t move on. He needs a life without me.”
I kneel in front of her, take both her hands, and wait for her to focus on me rather than whatever bad memories she’s revisiting. Her eyes are glassy, and now I see what Noah meant—sheisvery fragile.
“Mrs. King,” I start; I realize I don’t even know her name, “I think Noah is a very complicated man. I won’t argue there. ButI truly believe you are extremely important to him, and his life would be so much worse without you in it.”
“But he’s stuck here with me,” she protests again.
“If I had a mom like you who really cared,” a giant lump in my throat makes me pause and cough it out before I can speak again, “I’d be happy to be stuck with her.”
“And you don’t?”
I shake my head. “My mother was… Let’s just say she was never a mom. So I’m jealous that Noah’s got you.”
The color slowly returns to her cheeks. She places her free hand on my cheek. “You are a good girl, Beatrice.”
I smile back weakly and rise to my feet. When I turn toward the door, I find Noah standing in the hallway watching us. Who knows how long he’s been there and how much he heard, but I don’t care at this point. I’ve done everything I could. Including finding out that I might never be part of his life.
Outside, the corridor feels cold, like all the warmth is locked behind the door with Noah and his mother. I lean back against the cool wall, feeling the weight of the day press down on me. Noah follows soon after, keeping his expression unreadable.
“I’m driving you home,” he states, more a command than an offer.
I shake my head. “I’m good. I’ll take a cab.”
He frowns, and a deep line appears between his brows, making him appear older. “It’s not a problem. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
“It’s not about safety,” I snap, because the thread he’s been pulling has finally reached its breaking point. My emotions are raw, too close to the surface, and I don’t want to process them around him. “It’s about space. I think we could both use some right now.”
Noah looks as if I’ve slapped him.Welcome to the club, buddy.
He steps closer. “Is this because of what happened earlier? Because I didn’t mean?—”
“I know what you meant,” I cut him off with a trembling voice despite my best efforts to control it. “You meant to protect your mother. But you also made it clear where I stand in all of this.”
“That’s not fair, Bea. You know how much you mean to me?—”
“Do I?” The question slips out, pitiful but needed.
“You know how much I care about you,” he continues, sounding strained. “Today was a mess, okay? I was out of line. You were just… you were just doing what you thought was right.”
“But it wasn’t right, was it?” My sharp words are slicing through the muggy air of the hallway. “Not for you. Not for her.” I motion vaguely toward the door behind him, where his mother remains a silent reminder of the complexities between us. Just when I thought we’d untangled most of it, Noah King threw a royal curveball.
