Page 57 of (My Accidental) Killer Summer
“Oh wow. It smells incredible, thank you,” I say, forcing my gaze away from Noah’s piercing blue eyes. It’s too much—too many memories flooding back in an instant. The laughter we used to share over meals, the way he could make everything feel right even when it was so wrong.
Noah shifts on his feet, glancing at Jaq and then back at me. “I thought we could all eat together,” he suggests, his tone casual but laced with something deeper—an unspoken question hanging in the air.
“Yeah, of course, that sounds nice,” I reply, though my voice feels strained. I step aside to let them in, my heart racing as they cross the threshold into my space—our space.
He bends to say hi to Kiki V-T, who is playing coy.
“Hey, girl,” he says in that breathy, sexy baritone. The personification of all those hot guy memes floating around. Sherolls to her back and splays her legs so can scratch her belly. “Good girl. Good girls get belly rubs, don’t they?”
If I laid on my back and splayed my legs, would he scratch my itch?
Stop it, Elle.
Noah’s presence fills the room with an energy that’s both comforting and unsettling. Jaq starts unpacking the food, chattering about their day, but I can barely focus on their words. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts—about Doug, about Jill’s suspension, about everything that’s changed since Noah originally left.
And then… it hits me.
“Jaq, what are you doing here?” I ask.
“I live here,” Jaq says.
I pin them with a ‘don’t fuck with me’ gaze. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“Because, Jill was suspended,” they say as though it makes perfect sense.
“You weren’t suspended,” I say.
“Oh, hey there, guys.” Amy steps in from the garage and stops, looking from me to Noah to the kids and back to me again.
“Amy, have a seat, we’ve got plenty of food,” Noah says as though he’s hosting a dinner party.
“Yes, Amy, sit.” I give her a look that does not allow for argument.
She sits.
“Jaq was just about to tell us why they aren’t in school,” I say to no one in particular.
“I wasn’t going to stay when Jill had to go,” Jaq says defensively. “Especially not when it was my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Jill says.
“She’s right,” I say softening my voice. “It was not your fault.”
“You don’t even know what happened,” Jaq says.
“I know enough,” I say.
The room stays quiet while we pass around the food and fill our plates.
“So… what did happen?” Noah asks, breaking the silence that’s stretched too long.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jaq says, averting their eyes. “Can we just forget about it?”
“Jaq,” Jill whispers. “It’s dad.” She tilts her head toward Noah as though Jaq may not know who she’s talking about.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Jaq says, their voice rising.
“Fine,” Jill replies quickly, her eyes darting between us.
