She raises her head and flashes me a wobbly smile, full of tears. Our lips are seconds away from touching and all I can think about is claiming that mouth over and over again. I need space and time away from her overpowering presence to think about this.
Snatching my beanie from the floor where it fell when I moved to comfort her, I shove it over my head and stand up. Panic flashes through her eyes before she averts them, hiding whatever is going on inside her away from me, which is okay. For now.
“I have to go.”
Her head jerks up and her legs straighten as she stands up from the couch. She nods, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her blouse.
I’m at a loss for words so I turn and stride to the front door, without checking to see if she is following me or not. I don’t need to, though. Her scent is like a blanket, surrounding me. I feel the familiar pull she’s always possessed when our bodies were close.
I turn around and stare at her, taking in that innocent look. Even after everything that has happened, she still looks like my Nor. The seventeen-year-old girl with freckles on her nose and wide green eyes. The girl that changed my world the minute she moved in next door.
The nervousness that surrounded her when I walked in through the door is gone now, replaced by acceptance.
Peace.
Even her shoulders have loosened a little. I can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel, carrying all that weight, full of secrets, on my shoulders. I search for the anger and rejection I’d been carrying around the past nine years, but it somehow dissipated between her telling me what destroyed us and now.
“Will you be all right?” I ask her, my hands shoved so deep inside my pockets I’m certain they will tear the fabric, just to keep my hands to myself and not end up grabbing her and doing everything I’ve wanted to do since returning back home.
“Will you be all right?” she asks.
My hand moves of its own accord, sweeping the hair off her shoulder to her back and wrapping my fingers around her neck, stroking the vein pulsing there. That little movement there eases the loss and anger that has been storming inside me all these years. Finally, I let out a long breath.
“I don’t know.” But, God, I hope I will be okay. I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of holding back. I’m just tired and I want everything to be okay.
I need everything to be okay. “I just need some time to think.”
I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, wrap my fingers on the nape of her neck and kiss her forehead.
I drop my hand and step back. “Goodnight, Snowflake.”
Those green eyes search my face, with uncertainty, and then subtly nod. “Goodnight, Cole.”
After leaving her house, I drive my car for hours and end up parking in front of my parents’ house. I need some time alone to think. I couldn’t do it with Nor’s tortured eyes on me.
I get out of my car and walk past the two-story house, heading for the gate in the backyard. I retrace the path that Nor and I walked on years ago until I reach the tree house. After flipping on the switch, I head for the wooden ladder, which has aged due to non-use. It’s chipped in places due to lack of maintenance. The solar panels and part of the roof hang low.
I grip the first step and hoist myself up, climbing up the rest of the way. As soon as my foot lands on the floor, dust motes rise, floating in the air. The interior looks smaller than it was when I was eighteen. Cobwebs hug the ceiling, tiny spiders crawling along the delicate threads.
I lie down and shut my eyes, remembering the last time Nor and I were here. I lose myself in that memory, embracing the comforting silence surrounding me, taming the anger raging through me.
My eyes snap open and I groan as pain stabs my back.
Fuck. How long have I been lying here? One minute I was reminiscing about the old days and the next I’d fallen asleep.
I glance at my watch and realize I’ve been here for almost two hours. Sitting up, I stretch to get rid of the kinks around my neck and back, and then climb down the tree and turn off the lights.
Seven minutes later, I walk up the porch to my parents’ house. The door is unlocked, just like it always was growing up. Some things never change.
The smell of cinnamon and vanilla teases me as soon as I step inside and I follow its trail. Mom looks up from pouring the batter inside the baking pan as soon as I step inside the kitchen, a grin quickly replacing the look of concentration on her face. It falls quickly, her gaze scanning my face.
“Is everything okay, honey?” she asks, setting the mixing bowl on the counter and hurrying toward me.
I shake my head, my throat burning. I raise my hands and sign, “Nor told me what happened.”
The worried look on her face disappears and she wraps me in her arms, hugging me tightly.
She pulls back and pushes the hair off my forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
I tuck my hands in the pockets of my pants. “Jesus. He was a fucking psycho. How can someone do that to his own daughter?”