Page 31 of Someone Knows

“No.” I pause. I should cut off the conversation, go inside. But there’s something about this man, even sober. And knowing who he is now, curiosity gets the best of me. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Not anymore. Broke up two months ago.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t want the same things.”

“What does that mean?”

“She wanted a family . . . kids.”

“And you don’t want that right now?”

“I don’t want that ever.”

“Why not?”

“You ever get married or have any kids?”

I shake my head.

“Feel like telling me whyyoumade that decision?”

I can’t help it, I smile. “Got it.”

Noah looks down, kicks his foot in the dirt in anaww, shucksway. “I like you, Elizabeth. Don’t meet many women like you around here. I’d really like totake you out.”

I pause. Something in the pit of my belly wants to say yes. Instead, I shake my head. “Not a good idea.”

“Maybe. But some of the best times I’ve ever had started from bad ideas.”

I chuckle. He has an answer for everything.

Noah looks up and catches my eyes. “Seriously, though, you seem like a woman who speaks her mind. And I don’t hear you saying you don’twantto go out with me. There’s a difference between notwantingto do something and thinking it’s a bad idea.”

I didn’t notice it last night, because the bar was so dark. But his eyes are theexactsame color as his father’s—deep mossy green with specks of gold. There’s a lot I can’t remember from twenty years ago, but a person remembers the face of a person they’re about to kill. The only difference is Noah’s eyes have a light that shines from them, a sparkle that reflects the sun. Mr. Sawyer’s were cold and flat, even when he was still breathing. Same as last night, I find myself very drawn to this man.

“How long you in town for?” he asks when I still haven’t responded.

I thumb toward the front door. “I’m not sure anymore. I was planning on leaving today. But then my mom fell. She’s in the hospital now.”

“I heard about her health. The woman who told me where you live mentioned your mom was sick with cancer.”

I nod. “Her prognosis isn’t good.”

He nods. “I know how hard that can be. My mom died not too long ago. Heart disease. It was tough to watch.”

“I’m sorry.” And I am . . . but he’s also just opened a door . . . “Do you still have your dad?”

Noah looks away. “He died when I was just a kid.”

I wait, hoping he’ll say more. But he doesn’t. Instead, he swings his keys around and tosses them in the air, catching them with a jingle as they come down.Mustbe a Southern thing.“Welp, I guess I should be going. I really would love to take you out, but I won’t push, especially when you’re going through so much.”

I nod. “Thank you again for returning my card.”

“Anytime. And if you ever feel like company—just a friendship, a shoulder to cry on if things with your mom get tough—you call me.” He winks. “I wrote my cell on the signature strip on the back of your credit card.”

I smile. “Thanks, Noah.”

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