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“My, my, sweet girl.” Her voice is raspy. “I don’t even know what I can say to you to make you understand what you’ve done for me. What you continue to do for me.”
A slight blush washes over me. “So I can call you later?”
“Of course, you can.” She nods, gently nudging me along, so I rush out to meet Noah in the hallway.
His expression is torn, but he slips his hand in mine, and we follow Cathy out to the patio.
It’s a gorgeous stone courtyard, lined with large soft bulbs that glow a soft yellow. There are hay bales stacked in the farthest corner, pumpkins of all shapes and sizes strategically piled around them. Cathy ushers us over and pulls her phone out.
“Stand anywhere you like.” She smiles.
Noah looks to the holiday decor, and something flickers along his face, the reality of time maybe. So rather than link the moment or thought to a time of year that may weigh heavy later in life, I grab him by the hand and lead us toward the fountain in the center, large stone pots full of Peonies arranged like stairs on both the left and right side.
Noah’s gaze finds mine, and with that one look, the unspoken sorrow that swept over him disappears. He lowers onto the edge, and pulls me onto his lap, twisting the slightest bit, so my right shoulder is resting against his right pec. He kisses my cheek, before facing forward, and I allow my head to rest on his. His arms come around me and the woman lifts her phone.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
We smile and she snaps the photo, waving her phone in the air as she walks away.
Before I can stand, Noah glides his hand in my hair, drawing my lips to his. His kiss is so soft, so slow, that my throat threatens to close.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
Warmth spreads through me, and we sit there a moment longer, simply staring at one another.
Together, we head back to his mom’s room and chat for a little longer, but the visit is cut short when she begins to jumble her words.
We say our goodbyes, and this time, the walk to the car is a bit of a somber one.
He’s quiet, too quiet, so once we’re on the road, a few minutes having past, I roll the window down, shocking him with cool air and his eyes snap my way briefly.
As I knew it would, a small smile finds his lips.
“Take me somewhere.”
He reaches over, tugging me into the middle seat, his hand burying itself between my jean-covered thighs. “Where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere you love. Somewhere you could go anytime and just being there makes you smile.”
Noah’s teasing eyes move my way, and I laugh.
“Come on, you have to have a place. Everyone does, right?”
“Will you show me yours?” he counters.
“I will.”
“I bet I already know where it is.”
“I bet you do too.”
He chuckles, and then he’s making a U-turn.
I swear I could have guessed where we’d end up had we played a guessing game, so I’m not even a little surprised when Noah parks, and we climb out, headed toward the hundred-yard stretch of green turf and white lines.
“Your high school?” I look over the large building to the left, a giant Eagle painted on the side.
“My high school.” He nods, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried. He sighs, allowing himself to look over every inch. From the field to the track around it, from the stairs to the announcers’ box at the top of the bleachers.
He steps out on the football field, tapping his toe along the four-yard line. “This is where Thomas Frolly caught the final pass I made on this field, and he ran it in for the winning touchdown.”
I clap, and he gives a teasing bow.
He runs as if running a route, stepping left, but juking right and leaping as if jumping over a defender. Where his feet land, he looks back to me, not quite at the fifty. “This is where I stood when they announced homecoming king. I lost.”
I laugh and Noah winks.
He jogs toward the gate, and I spin, slowly following.
He slaps a black and white metal sign, warning against smoking on campus.
“Here,” he calls me over, “is where I kissed the prom queen.”
“Lucky her.” I push up on my toes, meeting his mouth with mine. He grins but pulls back, a hint of caution blanketing his features.
He licks his lips. “Paige was the prom queen.”
“I knew it.” My words escape before I can stop them, and my eyes widen. “Sorry. I don’t mean, or I just meant, I assumed you two had history.”
“It wasn’t like that.” He shakes his head but thinks better of it. “Or it was, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t about her and me. Her dad had gotten sick around the time my mom did, and we sort of needed to find comfort somewhere, but that’s all it ever was. And never again after high school.”
