Page 16 of Finding Noah

She used the sheet to wipe her face, sniffling all the while. “I'm sorry. N-no, honey, no … we can't call the cops. We—”

“But why?” I begged. “Dad hurt you. H-he …” My voice trailed off as I thought about Tommy's house and what he had done there. He killed someone, I wanted to say, but the words wouldn't form on my tongue. “He's bad,” I finally said, voicing the feelings I always had but wouldn't say.

Mom nodded and looked into my eyes. “Yes,” she replied. “Yes, he is. He's very bad. But we can't call the cops.”

I didn't understand. The cops were good, especially the ones here in River Canyon. Officer Kinney was nice. His partner—who I’d found out was Jason's dad—was nice too. Their job was to get the bad guys, and if Dad was a bad guy, then they could put him in jail. They could take him away, and then we'd never have to see him again.

But I trusted Mom, and if she had a reason to not call the cops, then I believed her.

I had to.

“We aren't safe though,” I thought out loud, dropping my gaze to the floor, where I saw the shredded remains of the clothes Mom had worn that day.

What did he do to her? I wondered as a rage so big and hot built underneath my skin.

“You are,” she replied. “As long as I'm here, I promise, you are always safe.”

Once again, the tears pricked the back of my eyes, threatening to spill over as I stared at her disheveled form on the bed. She looked so broken, so hurt and scared. Mom wasn't supposed to look like that. She was brave. She was strong. She was a superhero in my eyes, capable of doing big, amazing things, but right now, she looked small.

Even smaller than me.

“One day, I'm gonna save you,” I promised.

“Oh, Noah,” Mom said, her voice small and so, so, so sad. “Sweetheart, it's not your job to save me. No child should ever feel responsible for the safety of their parents. I'm supposed to save you. Not the other way around.”

She was upset. She had been hurt, in ways I didn't understand, and I decided not to argue with her. But I was going to keep that promise. I didn't know how I'd do it, but somehow, I'd figure out a way.

Even if it meant finding someone who could.

CHAPTER THREE

SAVIOR FOUND

AGE TWELVE

“Someone's moving in next door,” Mom said as she ran a dustcloth over the windowsill in between peeks through the curtains.

“Yeah!” I cried, jumping up from the table. “I forgot to tell you! Jay's dad said some guy got out of jail and he's moving here.”

Mom looked over her shoulder at me, her brow crumpled and her eyes holding every bit of concern I’d thought she'd have at the news. “An ex-convict is moving in next door? Oh God, Grandma will have a freakin' conniption over this.”

“Jay's dad said he was in jail for a long time. Like, ten years or something like that.”

“I wonder what he did,” Mom said, leaning forward and looking through the curtains.

“Is he here now?!”

I ran over to where she stood to look out the window, but she stopped me with an arm across my chest.

“Don't stare,” she scolded.

I laughed and poked my finger at her arm. “You're staring!”

“No,” she teasingly argued with a smirk on her lips. “I was cleaning the windowsill and just so happened to peek through the curtains. You're being obvious.”

She reached out to ruffle my hair and walked away to dust the TV stand, but not without taking one more glance through the window.

Her curiosity was driving her crazy, I could tell.