Page 101 of Under the Lies

My granddad has lived in the same apartment complex since I was born. I almost forgot that Noah has probably spent as much time here as I did back when he was a teenager. Sometimes I’d find him here without my sister. It was weird, but that was my granddad. Always picking up strays, always charming the pants off everyone he meets. Granddad was the kind of man who sat at a coffee shop for an hour and left being best friends with the owner.

“I know,” I tell him, but already the cavity in my chest feels a little more full. “I haven’t been here since he died and my parents made me clean out his apartment.”

A look I can’t decipher passes over Noah’s face, but before I can ask about it, he steps closer. “He was a good man.”

A stinging pricks my eyes. I blink it away. “The best.”

Silence forms between us but it’s not awkward. It’s a silence that’s content in the memory of someone who touched us both.

“You weren’t at his funeral,” I tell him. None of them were. But then again, even Harlow didn’t show up.

“I was there.”

“You were?” I look at him, surprised. “I never saw you.”

“That’s because your parents kicked me out before I could make it through the doors of the church.” His jaw ticks. A year later and he’s still angry.

Hell. I’m angry. My parents have always lived to be in control. “They had no right.”

Noah chuckles, dark and pissed. “They think the world is at their mercy, Sayer. In their minds, they had every right.” He shrugs, the movement stiff. “But I’m not here to talk about your fucking parents. We’re here for you.”

We’re here for you.

Flutters attack my stomach. I don’t know what’s brought on this side of Noah, but it reminds me of the man I knew back in prep school when it was just him and I and we found each other at the lake on my parents’ property. Where we talked about nothing and everything, back when I thought he hung the moon and I dreamed of a life in the stars.

The past few weeks of being in his presence, I thought that version was gone for good. He’s still intense, he still wears his cold expressions, but there’s a softness present in those cool blue eyes of his.

It’s just as overwhelming as his intimidating stares.

“I love this view,” I blurt, tearing my gaze away from his, ignoring the prickling of my skin under his stare. It’s always present, always annoying.

I never want it to stop.

From the corner of my eye, I see Noah rotate to look out at the city as well. It’s different from his, where the skyline is all tall buildings and shiny metals.

This is part of the city that, like my granddad’s building, remains untouched by time. On the opposite side of Haven Harbor, away from the buildings with Kincaid stamped all over it is a neighborhood that feels like you’re transported back to the 1930s when the town was formed.

Where kids ride their bikes between alleys, along the sidewalks. A paperboy throws newspapers onto stoups. Everyone knows everyone, everyone looks out for everyone.

I think that’s why I always loved coming up here. The view brought me comfort, wrapped me in a hug while I felt nothing but coldness on the inside.

God, I sound pathetic. And I feel the pensive gaze of Noah, watching my profile diligently. Trying to get into my head. But that’s the last place I want him to be right now.

He doesn’t need to hear how starved for love I am on the inside. I barely admit it to myself. Who wants to say they have no one? Because that’s what I have. No one.

Sure, I have Brin and other friends, but they’re busy with their own lives. I don’t have any family. Not any that care, anyway.

I suck in a sharp breath, the move pierces the hollow in my chest.

It’s a truth I’ve long since avoided admitting.

I have no one.

“Sayer.”

I look up, caught in the snare of Noah’s face. He’s watching me with a blank expression, eyes searching.

He stands so close if I twitch my fingers they’d brush his wrist and I’m still so alone. A puzzle missing pieces.

---