Page 82 of Until Then

Me: No. I hate Shane, Mom. I hate him.

Mom: I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t even know what to say.

Me: I should’ve told Noah. This is on me. He went there and I’m sure he was totally blindsided.

Mom: Tell him we’ve got him, sweetie. No matter what.

It’s too much and I let a single tear fall. An army of people keep asking about Noah Hayden. They don’t know him well—at least my family—but instead of seeing a guy with a temper like so many others, what they saw was my boyfriend, taking on a father who abandoned me, dismissed me, and resented me.

When my phone goes off again, it’s a call. My pulse races when I press the speaker to my ear. “Rees. Anything?”

“No.” Noah’s brother has a raspy, raw voice. Common after a show, Vienna told me when we saw them live. He’s severely asthmatic and needs to take care not to overdo it or he could land in the ER. Now, he sounds hoarse and frantic. “Are you back in California yet? If I need to, I’ll call my dad to get there. It’s been almost a full day, and?—”

“I’m on my way to his condo now, maybe five minutes away. I’ll just knock until he answers if I have to.”

Rees lets out a sigh. “His code is four, five, three, three. Call me when you find him. He . . . he shouldn’t be alone.”

“I won’t leave him alone.”

“No,” Rees says, then pauses for a breath. “He’s going to kill me. Hayley, Noah can get . . .scarydown sometimes. No one really knows except me and his therapist, all right? I’m trying to get out on the soonest flight I can.”

Rees is leaving his show to fly across the country because his brother won’t answer the phone?

There’s a sick weight that settles low in my belly. “When you say scary . . . what do you mean?”

He hesitates. “He just really shouldn’t be alone. Text or call me when you get in. Please. I’m losing it here.”

“I will, I promise.” My voice cracks. I hang up the phone and clutch it to my chest, willing the truck to move faster.

I should’ve told him the truth.

I should’ve called him the morning after we met.

I should’ve sent the I love you text I wanted to last night.

When his building slides into view, I grip the driver’s seat. “Drop me off at the curb.”

Justin maneuvers the truck and trailer against the edge of the walk.

“Hayley.” Uncle Milton leans through the window. “You let him know, after what he did, well, he’s always going to be welcome with us. We know Shane, we know how he runs his mouth. If he’s throwing punches, I take it that guy in there really loves my niece.”

I return a watery smile, then beeline it into the lower floor. The building is secure and requires either an invitation from the resident to take the elevator to their floor, or a code typed in the bottom.

My hands shake as I type in the code. The elevator moves like a hinge rusted over, and when the doors finally part, I nearly trip over my feet the way I scramble out of the car.

Noah’s door is locked, but there’s a coded keypad.

Once more, I input the code and wait for the click of the lock.

Inside, lights are off, shades are drawn. Everything is dark. I shrug out of my dusty shoes and jacket. Still clad in worn jeans and a long sleeve tattered tee, I probably smell like truck seats and burgers, but I hardly care. The deeper I creep into his condo, the more lights I flick on.

“Noah?” I call out, terrified I won’t get a response.

In the kitchen, the overhead light reveals a couple takeout containers open and hardly touched. There’s toppled bottles—four, at least—of whiskey and beer. His cabinets are opened, a few dirty dishes are in the sink.

I peek around the corner to the office area. Empty. Same with the living room save for scattered pillows, a crack in his TV, a broken remote, and his cell phone. It’s powered down and discarded.

“Noah?” His name breaks in the back of my throat as I make my way toward the main bedroom.

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