I held the straw near his mouth, careful not to touch him. He drank, then settled back against the pillow.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He looked at my work shirt. I had gone to the yard before visiting for the first time since the accident. Caleb insisted I inspect the payroll and sign two supplier forms. Being there without Noah had felt like walking through a model of my own life.
“Callahan Marine,” Noah read.
“Yes.”
“Your place.”
“Yes.”
“I worked there.”
“You do.”
His brow furrowed at the present tense.
“You’re still employed,” I clarified. “There’s no pressure to return. I mean the job is yours when you’re ready, in whatever way works for you.”
“Electrician.”
“Marine systems. You’re the best one on this part of the coast.”
A trace of skepticism crossed his face.
“You don’t have to believe that yet.”
“What are you?”
“At the yard?”
He nodded.
“Owner. General manager. Sometimes carpenter. Sometimes plumber. Mostly the person everyone blames.”
His mouth moved.
Not quite a smile, but close.
It was the first time I had seen even the possibility of one.
My chest tightened.
I looked down before he could see what the small expression did to me.
“Caleb and Owen want to visit,” I said.
“Who?”
“Friends. Coworkers.”
He turned his gaze to the window.
“Do I like them?”
