Page 45 of Remember Us This Way

When you finally realize that you deserve to be happy, come back to me.

Those words haunt me as I make my way downstairs and meet my mom by the front door. Come back to me. Shit. I wish it could be that easy. But there’s no denying it, the three years of distance have done nothing but make my need and attraction for her all that much stronger.

In that closet, all that existed was her. Her touch on my body, her lips on mine, her soft, breathy moan as my arm wrapped right around her back and pulled her against my chest. It only proves how much she belongs with me. We’ve always been two halves of the same whole, and when we came together, it was like our souls coming home. It was nothing but a stark reminder of everything I’d given up and the pain I’d caused her.

It was never my intention to hurt her, but she has to understand that it’s best this way. If I were to finally give in to those urges, to be her whole world like she is mine, I would eventually drag her down. Zoey James was born to fly, and I . . . I was born with nothing but poison in my veins.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I give Zoey’s parents a forced smile and thank them for dinner, grateful neither of them bothered to ask where I’ve been. They know without being told, so what’s the point of coming up with a lie?

Glancing at Mom, I find her with one hand braced against the wall to keep her upright. “Shit, Mom. Just how many glasses of wine have you had?”

“Is that really any of your business?” she questions, trying to fish her car keys out of her purse, and after trying for far too long, I take the purse and grab the keys myself.

“Fuck me,” I mutter under my breath. “Can you even walk?”

Mom bursts into laughter, and it’s only seconds before Zoey’s mom is snickering right along with her, needing to grip her husband’s arm to keep from toppling over. “I guess we’re about to find out,” she tells me, bouncing her brows and grinning like a child.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I reach around her and open the door before pressing a hand to her lower back and leading her out. I rarely see her like this, and that’s mostly because she’s always had to be her own designated driver. I haven’t exactly been here to ensure she gets home safely. But clearly, she took advantage of her opportunity tonight.

After leading her out and getting her settled in the passenger’s seat, I drop down into the driver’s seat and recline it all the way back, not knowing how the hell she could stand sitting so close to the steering wheel.

Backing out of Zoey’s driveway, I head home, and the drive is silent for a few minutes before Mom lets out a sigh and gives me a sad smile. “You broke her heart again, didn’t you?” she questions.

I keep my stare focused on the road, knowing if I were to meet her saddened eyes, I’d surely break. “She deserves better, Mom,” I murmur, my voice barely audible in the silent car. “The sooner she’s able to figure that out and move on, the better. I’m only going to hurt her.”

“What could possibly be better than you and the bond you two share?” she asks me. “You’re selling yourself short, Noah. I think sometimes you forget that I know what’s on the inside. I know your heart, the real you, and while you’re hurting and buried deep in this pain, eventually, you’ll be able to overcome it. I just hope that when that time comes, you haven’t pushed her so far away that you’ll never be able to get her back.”

I don’t respond, not really knowing what to say, and after a few moments of intolerable silence, Mom hits me right where it hurts. “She still loves you, you know?” she says, reaching over the center console and gripping my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “Even after all the distance and hurt, I still see it when she looks at you. You haven’t lost her yet, and maybe if you’d let her, she’d be able to pull you out of this sea of despair.”

“Mom,” I sigh, a subtle warning in my tone, begging her to stop.

“I’m sorry, my love. I just worry about you,” she says, trying to force an encouraging smile. “I see how much pain you’re in, and it kills me.”

“I know,” I say, squeezing her hand. We keep driving, and we’re just reaching our street when I glance over at her, she’s deep in thought, and I know without question, she’s thinking about a possible future for me and Zoey. She thinks about it more than I care to admit, but I suppose that’s what happens when one of your children dies too young without getting a chance to live life to its fullest. She doesn’t want that for me. She wants to make sure I’m happy and that I get everything I’ve ever wanted in life, and she and I both know all too well that has everything to do with Zoey James.

“Mom,” I say as I bring the car to a stop outside the house that hasn’t felt like a home in three long years. “Can I ask you a question?”

Her brows furrow, and she turns to look at me, giving me her undivided attention, not even daring to reach for the door handle. “At dinner, you called Zoey your little warrior. And I know you used to call her that all the time, but I don’t really understand why. When I asked Zoey, she looked at me like I’d slapped her across the face.”

“Ooooh,” she says, scrunching up her face. “That probably wasn’t your best move.”

“Mom,” I groan. “Just put me out of my fucking misery and tell me what that’s all about.”

Her face falls, and for just a moment, I think I see pity flashing in her eyes. “Oh, honey,” she says with a heavy sigh, reaching out and squeezing my hand again, this time refusing to let go. “Do you really not remember?”

“Remember what?”

“When Zoey was six, she was very ill.”

“Of course I remember that,” I say with a grunt, frustrated that I’m still missing the point. “We were at the hospital with her all the fucking time. I’d sit in her bed with her playing her stupid girly games on the iPad. But she was just sick for a while, and then she got better.”

“You were only seven at the time and didn’t fully grasp what was happening,” she explains, a heaviness plaguing her eyes. “I was trying to shield you from the magnitude of what was going on. I didn’t want to tell you just how sick she really was, Noah. I didn’t want you to shoulder that burden so young. If you knew just how severe it was, you would have been the most heartbroken seven-year-old boy to ever walk the planet. I didn’t want to frighten you, and Zoey needed your positivity. I supposed I just assumed you would have learned all about it at some point.”

My brows furrow, and I pull my hand back from hers, curling my fingers into my palms. “What are you talking about?”

“Those times Zoey was at the hospital, honey,” she says, swallowing hard. “She was undergoing chemotherapy. She had cancer.”

“What?” I question, my whole body going rigid. “She didn’t have cancer. I know everything there is to know about her. I know her better than her own fucking parents. Even after being away from her for three years, I still know her better than anyone. I’d have known if she had cancer.”

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