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“Yeah,” I tell her, I’ll be there soon.
Noah is looking at me expectantly when I hang up the phone, dark eyes wide and focused on me. I can’t just up and leave because I don’t know where my car is, probably still parked on campus.
“Can you take me to get my car?” I ask, letting the words slip from my lips in a sugary sweet tone.
His eyes narrow suspiciously. “For what?”
“My mom wants to see me, and I also just want my car back.”
He stares at me for a few moments, probably trying to figure out how to say no. “I’ll come with you to see your mom,” he finally says.
“No,” I counter quickly. “It’s too soon.” Considering my mother still thinks Noah killed her daughter, the last thing he should be doing with his newfound freedom is flaunting it in front of her.
A heavy sigh leaves his lips. “I’ll sit outside.” He brings another spoonful of cereal to his mouth, his silent way of ending the conversation.
“I’m a big girl, Noah. I can go on my own.”
He studies me again, as if he’s waiting for me to back down under the weight of his gaze. His cold eyes bore into me, silently questioning me.
What does he think is going to go wrong?
Noah’s always been protective, demanding, and just fucking controlling. But this is a whole new level, his need to be a part of every second of my life. I can’t understand, can’t grasp his reasoning.
I’m not in danger.
“Fine,” he finally says, pushing the empty bowl away from him. “I’ll take you to get your car, and then you can go see your mom. One hour, Mik,” he says with a stern look. “Don’t take any longer than that. “
“Aye aye, captain.” I mock, using my hand to salute him. His dark eyes only grow more irritable with me.
But fuck that, I’m allowed to have a life outside of him.
My mom is settled at a small round table in the back of the café near the chairs Auden and I used to lounge in. Business is slow on a Tuesday morning. Just a few customers lined up at the coffee bar and a few scattered about at tables.
Her eyes are glassy when I reach her table, she looks up at me with sadness.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, a gut reaction to seeing her hurt.
She cried a lot after Auden’s death. She was heartbroken, though I guess we all were, she just showed it more. I don’t think my dad cried a single tear, not that he wasn’t mourning, he just had to show strength for us, over a week of preparations, viewings, and the funeral, a tear never left his eyes. At least not while anyone could see.
She leaps from the chair and wraps her arms around me. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “I’m not mad.”
I let myself lean into her hug, finding comfort in her warm embrace and soft words. “I just…” I trail off. “I believe him.” I whisper to her.
She pulls back, hands still gripped on my shoulders but giving herself a better view of mine. “It’s okay, Mikaela. It’s okay if you believe him.”
I feel my own eyes start to water, wetness lining the rim of my lashes.
“Here, sit,” she says, gesturing for me to take a seat at the table with her. She settles in the seat across from me, her hands clasped in front of her on top of a manila envelope. She’s nervous, twisting her fingers around and chewing on her bottom lip.
“Mom… What’s going on?”
She fingers a piece of her blonde hair, twisting it around while she avoids eye contact with me. “The DA brought us something they found during the investigation.”
“Okay, so?” I prod.
Slowly, she opens the envelope, pulling out a few sheets of white paper. She slides them across the café table until they’re in front of me.
“What is this?” I ask, lifting the papers to read them closely.
