Page 40 of Remember Us This Way

“Oh, honey,” Erica rushes out, gently clapping her hand on Zoey’s back and rushing in with napkins to mop up the spilled water. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Zoey says, her glare sharpening back on me as she reaches between her legs and shoves my foot off the end of her chair, then she goes as far as to use her feet to kick me even further away. “Must have gone down the wrong way.”

It’s almost ironic. Three years ago, we used to do the exact same thing, only the looks we were secretly giving one another across the table were very different. Either way, I think it’s clear to say I’ve won this round. And to think just how easy it was.

Clearly irritated with me, Zoey lets out an almost inaudible huff and forces a fake smile as she turns toward the conversation, leaving me almost gasping for air. Only there’s a different James daughter now demanding my attention.

Hazel stares at me, narrowing her gaze, and it’s clear that she’s the only other person at the table actually paying any attention to what’s been going down the past fifteen minutes.

Hazel doesn’t say a word, just watches me, only unlike her big sister, there’s no disdain or confusion swelling in her green eyes, just plain old curiosity. A smirk pulls at the corners of her lips, and with that, she lifts her hand, her fingers hovering in front of her eyes before turning them on me, the universal sign for I’m watching you.

A wide grin stretches across my lips, and I almost let out a real laugh, something I don’t recall doing for . . . actually . . . I have no idea how long it’s been. That move had Linc written all over it. He used to give me that bullshit all the time, and I hated it, but now, it only makes me realize just how much I miss it. Then just because she’s asking for a different kind of trouble of her own, I tear off a small piece of bread from the roll on my plate and brace it against the edge of my fork. With their parents’ attention firmly on the she-devil sitting across from me, I pull back the fork and launch the bread forward.

It arches high across the table, and I watch as Hazel’s eyes open. Without a second to dodge out of the way, it hits home, slamming right against her cheek.

Her mouth drops in mock horror, and she quickly scrambles for the piece of bread, only to dunk it in her water before loading it onto the end of her fork. Eight-year-old Hazel from three years ago would have already burst from the seams with laughter, but she’s eleven now, and she knows better than to draw attention to us before getting a chance at sweet revenge.

Seeing exactly where this is going, I give her a hard stare and shake my head, warning her that this isn’t a war she wants to start with me, and before I can even get my warning across, she launches the soggy bread. It hits me square in the jaw, and the way it clings to the side of my face is too much for her to handle before a loud, snorting laugh booms across the table.

All eyes turn to Hazel, wondering what the fuck has gotten into her as I fake a look of innocence and flick the soggy bread off my face.

My mom smiles wide at Hazel before turning her gaze toward me and holding my stare. As she realizes I had everything to do with that laugh, her face creases with the brightest smile, one I haven’t seen since before losing Linc.

Something flutters in my chest, and I do what I can to crush it back down, letting my gaze fall away.

Fuck, I miss Linc.

The last time I sat in this very spot, he was sitting right here with me, the four of us all cramped on one end of the table so we could fuck around away from our parents’ watchful eyes. My father was sitting on my mother’s right, looking at her as though she was his whole world. Funny how tragedy can show people’s true colors. He split six months after Linc died without a care for how Mom and I were supposed to get through it all alone.

I suppose I’m no better than my father. Only instead of leaving, I just mentally checked out. I was a ghost for Mom to have to deal with day in and day out, causing trouble and giving her hell. Shit, I’ve really been an asshole. If I knew how to apologize and make it up to her, I would, but I’ve never been any good at that shit. The only person who seemed to fully understand that about me was Zoey. She never held it against me and always helped me through it when I needed it, but now . . .

“What’s going on down there?” Erica, Zoey’s mom asks, her gaze settled on me. “You look like you just went somewhere.”

I clench my jaw, not particularly willing to entertain this, especially now with everyone’s attention on me, but despite everything, Erica has always been too good to me. She was like a second mom until I split. “Nothing,” I murmur, my gaze falling away. “Just noticing how there’s a lot of empty chairs at this table now.”

Erica gives me a sad smile, her heart falling out on her sleeve. “Yes. However, since the last time your mom came for dinner, there’s now one less empty chair, and to me, that’s cause for celebration,” she tells me. “You have no idea how wonderful it is to see you sitting around my table again Noah, even if all you want to do is trade glares with Zoey all night.”

Well, shit. Maybe our parents were paying attention after all.

Erica gives me a smug grin as if she’s in on a secret that I know nothing about, and when my mom breaks the silence, I couldn’t be more grateful. “So, my little warrior,” she says to Zoey, making my brows furrow at her use of that old nickname, something I haven’t heard in what seems like a lifetime. “How’s school going? Still kicking ass in all your classes?”

Zoey scoffs. “Kicking ass is not exactly how I would put it,” she says before explaining herself. “It’s been one week, and the homework and assignments are already piling up. I thought they might ease us into it, but apparently, my teachers are the throw them straight in the deep end type.”

“Ah, that sucks,” Mom tells her. “Just give it a little time. I’m sure you’ll find your groove.”

“Let’s hope.”

Erica smirks toward her daughter. “I’m sure if you didn’t spend your afternoons talking on the phone and committing grand theft auto, you would have plenty of time to get on top of that pile of homework.”

Zoey reaches for her glass of water again, sparing me a quick glance before lifting it to her lips. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” she says dismissively as if my car keys aren’t currently burning a hole in her pocket. At least, that’s where I assume she’s keeping them. She’s not going to make it easy for me to get them back.

Mom and Erica share a glance, and it’s clear they already know every detail about Zoey’s afternoon activities, and it grinds my gears that Mom didn’t think to even mention it to me. Though I don’t know why I’m so surprised. Mom and Erica gossip like a bunch of old ladies. They live for it, and as for Zoey, she tells her mom everything, even knowing that most of the time, anything she tells her mom will somehow get back to me through mine.

Moving right along, Erica glances back at me. “How are you settling in at East View? I’m assuming Coach Martin was thrilled to have you join the team?”

A harsh scoff rips from the back of my throat, and I find my leg stretching out under the table and settling right beside Zoey’s, her bare skin resting against mine, and damn it, she doesn’t even try to pull away. “Thrilled is one way to put it,” I mutter. “He thinks I’m more trouble than I’m worth, but he’s also thirsty for the championship trophy, so he’s putting up with me. He’s making me work for it though.”

“Good,” Zoey’s father says, barely able to meet my eye after our little chat out on the front lawn on Friday night. “What good is a coach who doesn’t push his players to their limits? He might be hard on you, but he’s making you a better player.”

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