Page 66 of Nothing Left To Lose But You

I shut off the vibration just a few hours later and sit up to check on Noah. She’s still passed out in bed with just the top of her dark hair peeking out from under her blanket. She probably needs the rest. I slowly stand and fold up the cover I used before tiptoeing out her door.

In the same clothes I wore to the bar last night, I stand in the hallway, not daring to move an inch, and listen to hear if Maggie or Rainey are awake. There’s no sound or movement from their end of the hallway, giving me the confidence to step slowly to my right and through my bedroom door. The smoky bar stench from my clothes wafts upward with my movement. I can’t stand the smell; I strip them off and toss them in my laundry pile before face planting into my bed.

Atap-tap-taprouses me, and the brightness in the room is shocking. Three more taps follow, coming from the other side of my bedroom door.

“Wh-who is it?” Shit. It’s nearly nine. I haven’t slept this late since before Maggie was born.

“It’s me.”

“Just a second.” I hop up and fetch a pair of pajama bottoms before crawling back under the covers. “It’s okay to come in.”

Noah pads into my room and stands inside the door.

“Morning.” I offer timidly. I’m not sure how she feels about what happened after I got home last night. I wanted to help, but the morning light makes it clear my actions could’ve been unwanted.

“Hey,” she creaks. I know her creaky voice—she’s just waking up.

I run my hands through my hair, waiting to see what she wants to say. I’m flip-flopping between embarrassment for rushing in to save her—like she needs a man to solve her problems—and reeling in the warmth of waking up next to her. Guilt joins the party, too, but it isn’t guilt from fearing I’ve wronged the memory of Hannah. It’s guilt that—at this moment—I don’t feel sorry at all.

A minute later, she’s still standing by the door but hasn’t said another word. “Um,” I say shakily, “How are you feeling this morning?” Those words prompt her to move closer to my bed. She stops a foot away before pointing to the end of my mattress and silently questioning if she can take a seat.

“Yeah, go ahead.” I sit up straighter, giving her more space to sit without touching me.

“I wanted to thank you. For last night.” Her eyes have dimmed so much since yesterday’s hike, and she feels far away and small, like she’s curled up and hidden away somewhere inside of her body. I hate this.

“Yeah, of course.” We sit in silence, each gazing at the pattern on my cover. “Are you . . . going to be okay?” I ask, interrupting the quiet.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. This is normal.”

Normal? Her brother’s treatment of her might behernormal, but it’s notnormal. I scratch the three-day-old scruff growing on the sides of my chin, thinking of how to phrase what I need to ask.

“Did I . . . cross a line last night?” I throw the question between us, almost not wanting an answer. Even though Noah was distressed and hurting, the time she allowed me to sit with her was special. “If I did, I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.”

Her eyes rise and lock with my own, wide and wild. “Cross a line?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your room. This is probably awkward for you, and I definitely wouldn’t want to give the girls the wrong idea. Speaking of,” I cut my thought in two, “Are the girls awake?”

“No.”

“Wow, they’ve slept in, too.”

“You didn’t cross a line forme,”she continues, “I was worried I forced you to cross a line of your own.”

I pull Noah’s words apart and work to dissect their meaning. What line would she have forced me to cross?Oh—it hits me.Hannah.

“You didn’t push me to do anything.” I shake my head. “I pushed you into letting me in. I see now that you wanted some space. I’m sorry—that’s not the person I am.” She doesn’t break eye contact, but her lips remain sealed. “When Iz told me what happened with Dunbar . . .” She flinches at the sound of her brother’s name, reigniting sparks of anger in me. No one should flinch at the name of someone they love. “I didn’t want you to be alone when you felt so terrible.”

“Last night was more than I could handle. I’m glad you were there.” She throws me a half-hearted smile. “It was good to have you beside me without the expectation to talk.”

“It was a surprise to wake up and be asleep on your floor, though.” I attempt a joke, but she doesn’t laugh.

“It was nice. I would have been fine to wake up alone, but I enjoyed having you there. But, I’m sorry again if that created any problems for you. It’s the last thing I want.”

“What about it would be a problem?” I feel certain I know what she’s referring to without actually saying it, but I don’t want to dance in circles around anything with Noah.

“With your wife.”

I drop my head momentarily to collect my thoughts, aware that what I do or don’t say now may change our friendship. “There’s no problem for me. There are alotof feelings I’m trying to work through—and may work through forever—I don’t know. I don’t have any directions to follow. Shit, I don’t even know anyone my age who’s lost a spouse.” I decide it’s safest to leave everything here, out in the open, but not specific to Noah and I. Truly, I have nothing more specific I could share with her if I wanted. My emotions are all over the place. I miss Hannah every single day. Maggie does things that make me feel like my wife is right in front of me, and that’s still painful. Sitting in front of me is one of the most genuine and caring people I’ve ever met, and when I force myself to imagine a future without her, I just can’t.

---