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“Better if I push them down,” I say, sniffling.

“Is it?” she asks.

I shrug because no, it’s not.

But also, if I try to say anything right now, I will really start crying, and seriously, how pathetic would that be?

“You’re in love with him again,” Momma says simply.

I look up at her, surprised.

She gives me a look, the kind that says, “don’t try to deny it” and simultaneously says, “Yes, I always knew.”

I look away.

She wraps an arm around me, and the knot in my throat moves higher.

“I didn’t mean to be.” My voice breaks.

She squeezes a little tighter. “Oh, Hattie, my girl, my sweet, sweet, girl.” She pulls back and smiles at me.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t help who you love . . . and you don’t want to deny yourself of that joy.”

“Most of what I’ve felt because of Noble is not joy,” I say.

She turns and faces me. “Is that really true or is that just how you feel right now?”

I hate how her logic is ruining my perfectly flawed argument.

“I can still picture a much younger version of you both, and mostly what I remember is a whole lot of laughing. You were good together. He watched out for you, and you watched out for him.” She squeezes me again. “You understand Noble in a way no one else does. Half the time, I’m not sure he would know what he thought if you didn’t tell him.” She laughs softly.

“Maybe that was true before, but it was a long time ago,” I say. “We’re not kids anymore. What if I don’t really know him at all?”

“What if you’re one of the only people in the world who does?”

There’s a quiet lull, and after a beat, I say, “I don’t have any willpower, Momma. Not when it comes to him. I’ve loved him since I was thirteen years old. And you remember what it was like for me when he left.”

For a brief moment, I’m back there, in the thick of the pain. It tries to choke me now the way it did then, but I ground myself in the present.

“My girl, this might be hard to hear . . . but I’m going to say it.”

I turn to her, bracing myself. Momma doles out truth like no one else in the world. It isn’t always easy to hear, but it’s always necessary.

“Maybe just for a second—” her tone is cautious. “Consider that back then, you weren’t the only one who was hurting. Hunter’s accident didn’t just happen to you. We all grieved differently. When Noble reacted the way he did, it didn’t make sense to you. You saw someone making foolish and dangerous choices. But maybe what you should’ve been seeing was someone crying out for help.”

My stubborn side reacts. “Are you justifying him leaving?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not justifying anything. You two were friends. Best friends. And you had every right to be upset when he left without saying goodbye.”

“But . . .?”

She draws in a breath. “No but. You had the right to be upset. He handled that poorly, and we don’t really know why. Why did he leave? Why didn’t he say goodbye to you?” She squints over at me. “I think those are questions that deserve answers.”

Yeah, they are, I think, but don’t say. I’m that teenage girl all over again, sitting in the same spot, confused and heartbroken, and I don’t know how to see past it.

I want to see past it.

A pause. “Noble didn’t have the things you had. He didn’t have a family before us. He didn’t really know what it was like to be accepted and loved.”