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“Last time I checked”—I pointed to the glowing Produce sign I was regularly having to duck under in order to mop the floor between the apples and oranges—“as tall as it takes to smack my head on that.”
The kid stared at thesign,his mouth open in shock. “Whoa.”
“Yeah. I keep asking Howard to move it, but”—I shrugged—“what canyado?”
I knelt to pick up the scattered bananas, and the kid mimicked the motion to help.
He never stopped staring at my face.
“My mom said you were in jail,” he blurted out, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Man, I loved kids. They didn’t fuck around. They asked what they wanted to ask, said what they wanted to say. There was no beating around the bush with them, and I appreciated it so much more than the scrutinizing glances and whispers behind my back.
“I was,” I answered with a nod.
“Is that where you got that scar?”
I shook my head as I returned the bananas to their rightful hooks. “No. I got this scar before—”
“Noah!”
The kid turned at the sudden sound of a woman barking what was apparently his name.
That would be Mom, I thought, turning to face a woman in a baggy sweater, tight jeans, and black boots, carrying a handbasket full of groceries.
Her wavy light-brown hair might’ve been drab in color to some, but to me, it reminded me of Sully’s coat. Soft. Irresistible. Comforting.
Like Rain’s hair.
The sudden thought brought with it an odd sense of relief I hadn’t felt in a long time, along with the most curious taste of déjà vu.
And I probably shouldn’t have been staring as much as I was. Especially considering how much it was annoying me to have this entire town staring at me. But I couldn’t seem to help myself when the last time I’d laid my eyes on someone so beautiful was when I saved a fifteen-year-old girl years ago.
Noah’s mom hurried to stand beside him, tugging at his sleeve as she readjusted the basket on her arm, while I took the bananas from his outstretched hand.
“Noah, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Sorry. I was just—”
“Wehave toget home and make dinner. You still have home—”
As I stood, she gasped before clearing her throat, like she was embarrassed to have gasped at all.
“I-I’m sorry he was bothering you,” she said, diverting her gaze to stare at the things in her basket. “Come on, Noah. Let’s go.”
“He’s fine,” I replied as I busied my hands by wiping them on my apron. “It was nice to actually talk to someone.”
She swallowed, taking a moment to look me over. Then, she forced her lips into a tight smile. “Um … well, have a good day.”
“Yeah,youtoo.” I waved at her son, already being dragged away by his mom. “Bye, Noah. Thanks for the chat.”
“Bye.” He looked over his shoulder and waved back with a slight curve to one side of his mouth. “I’ll see you around.”
I laughed to myself as I turned and cleaned up the wrapper for my sandwich. I dropped it in the trash and got back to work, making sure to smack my head against the Produce sign as I went. And all the while, up until I got onto my bike and rode home, I thought about Noah and the first honestly friendly, albeit brief, conversation I’d had since I’d arrived.
And I thought about Rain.
***
