Page 42 of Remember Us This Way

I press my lips into a hard line, having known this since day one but never having the strength to actually say it out loud. “I miss her.”

Hazel scoffs, disappointment flashing in her eyes. “That’s your big secret?” she grunts, rolling her eyes and resting back against her headboard. “Anyone could have told you that. It was all but stamped across both of your foreheads at dinner. You’re so obvious that I’m going to change your name to Captain Obvious. Actually, what’s higher than a captain? Colonel? Colonel Obvious. Wait . . . that doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

Rolling my eyes, I kick my feet out and cross them at my ankles. “Alright, kid,” I say. “Catch me up on the Hazel James highlight reel from the past three years, and don’t spare any of the gory details.”

17

Zoey

Gripping the door handle, I slowly pull it open and hold my breath as I peer out into the hallway. My gaze swings from left to right as I listen out, making sure Aunt Maya and Noah are gone.

It’s late, and I’ve been hiding out in my room way too long to be considered polite, but for some reason, I don’t think anyone is going to hold that against me tonight.

I was stupid to assume I could do this, stupid to give him a reason to need to come here. What was I thinking? I thought I was strong enough to face him, but the second his leg brushed against mine under the table, everything within me broke. I needed his touch more than I needed to breathe, and I think on some level he knew that. Or maybe he needed the touch just as much as I did.

But then Mom had to go and push it, and while I get that she thought she was helping, all it did was crush me, and every snide comment I’d been planning to unleash on Noah suddenly didn’t seem so important. I didn’t feel important, not anymore.

My gaze sweeps toward Hazel’s door, and I listen a little harder. Noah was up here earlier. I could hear the soft murmuring of their conversation, muffled by the walls. I’m not going to lie; I’ve never been so jealous of my sister in my life. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been jealous of her, but seeing how easily she held Noah’s attention and was able to get a whole conversation out of him only added insult to injury.

I’ve never longed for something more.

It guts me that we don’t have that anymore, that I can’t just go to him and tell him all about my day and hang on his every word like I used to. And despite him sitting right across the table from me during dinner, I’ve never missed him more. Having the distance so blatantly rubbed in my face only makes him feel that much further away.

This whole night has only served to mess with my head. It used to be me who he’d launch little bits of bread across the table at. We always thought we were being so discreet, having ridiculous bread wars at the other end of the table from our parents, thinking no one was watching. Only we couldn’t have been more wrong. They were always watching us. Always waiting for the moment we realized that we were so much more than bestest friends. But what they didn’t know is that we’d known it all along, and those precious moments when things were starting to shift would happen in private—a soft brush of his fingers over my arm or when I’d catch his stare lingering on my lips like he’d die without them.

No longer able to hear clinking wine glasses or Mom and Aunt Maya’s shrill laughter downstairs, I let out a heavy breath, though, for the life of me, I can’t work out if it’s filled with disappointment or relief. I had hoped tonight would play out differently, but that’s on me. I should have known better than to allow myself to hope.

Certain Aunt Maya and Noah have left for the night, I venture out into the hall, and as I pass Hazel’s room, I don’t look up, terrified that she’ll be able to see the jealousy in my eyes.

Stepping into the bathroom, I tear my clothes off and dump them into the hamper before stepping into the shower and allowing the warm water to cascade over me, willing it to wash away the stain Noah has left on my heart. Unfortunately for me, it seems that stain is permanent, and I have a sinking feeling that the only person capable of scrubbing it clean is the one person who refuses to get close enough to try.

Stepping out of the shower, I grab my towel and quickly dry off before wrapping it around my body and tucking the end between my barely existent breasts to keep the towel firmly in place. I brush out my hair and then as a yawn rips through my body, I stride out of the bathroom and head back to my room, more than ready to find my comfiest pajamas and call it a night.

Music spills from my bedroom, and when I push back through my door, I come to a screeching halt, finding Noah standing at my desk, his car keys hanging from his fingers as he leans back, his foot crossed over the other, as casual as can be.

My eyes widen as my hand flies to my towel, gripping it hard, more than aware that I am very naked beneath this shred of cotton.

Noah’s gaze slowly trails up and down my body, and I try to ignore the flare of desire that pulses through his eyes, but when he blinks and opens his eyes again, I’m met with the usual darkness. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snap. “Get out.”

He doesn’t even pretend to make a move, simply crosses his big arms over his chest, looking bored. His gaze bores into mine, making my heart race faster than ever before. A strange curiosity flashes in his eyes, and I wait a moment, realizing whatever this is doesn’t have anything to do with the keys in his hand.

His tongue rolls over his bottom lip, deep in thought, and from what I can tell, it looks as though he’s suffering through an internal battle, debating whether he’s going to ask me whatever’s been plaguing his mind.

“Spit it out, Noah,” I say, my gaze darting to the back of my bedroom door to where my robe usually hangs, only the one day I actually need it, it’s not there.

Noah’s gaze singes me from the inside out, and I try to hold on to my composure as he finally gets to the reason he’s here. “Why does my mom call you her little warrior?” he questions, a strange tone to his deep voice, something I’m still not used to hearing.

My jaw slackens, and the shock of his question has my hand falling away from the top of my towel. “You’re kidding, right?” I breathe, my brows furrowed as a deep slice cuts straight across my chest, letting my agony fall out on the ground for the world to see.

This has got to be a joke. How could he not know?

My gaze flickers to the photograph of me that’s half hidden behind his big body, and I will the tears to stay at bay. He was there for all of it. Held my hand through the chemotherapy. Is he so far gone to have forgotten all of that?

I shake my head in disbelief. “You know what?” I say, trying to hide the hurt I know he sees in my eyes. “Figure it out yourself.”

“Zo—”

“No,” I cut him off, feeling myself starting to fall to pieces. “I’m not doing this with you.” I point to the keys in his hand. “You got what you came here for, so just go. Leave me alone.”

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