Page 113 of Before We Fell

I’d caught glimpses of Noah around town over the months. I didn’t know if he saw me or not, but if he did, he never approached. I saw Riley occasionally too, in town with Krystal or Keith. Sometimes at dinner with Noah. When she was with him, I left immediately. No use making us all awkward even if I hated being the coward.

But when she was with Krystal or Keith, they had no problems coming up to say hello, even if their hellos were drenched in sadness, sometimes pity.

My brother’s trial ended last week. He was convicted. Two charges of murder in the first-degree. The defense had fought hard for lesser charges due to his intoxication, but the prosecutor hadn’t held anything back. And in the end, it was the written testimony of little Riley, now nine years old, who sealed his fate.

I didn’t attend the trial, but I’d been in town, communicating with the prosecutor, so when the jury returned with their verdict, I’d been there. I’d called the prosecuting attorney when I learned his name months ago, volunteered to be a witness for their side. In the end, I hadn’t been needed or called. Riley’s testimony powerful enough. Sitting in the last row, I’d sat twelve rows back, behind Noah and his parents. My own were in the first row on the other side of the aisle. My mom cried when the verdict was read.

My dad’s shoulders shook.

Travis? He looked as stone-cold and blank-faced as I figured he would. No remorse. Not caring. I wouldn’t have been upset if he received the death penalty although that was unlikely, and his sentencing would be at a later date.

It was Noah’s family I cried for. Their vindication. Their justice. Their closure. I’d stayed to watch them jump to their feet, Noah pulling his mom into a fierce hug while Keith wrapped his arms around both of them as they cried.

And when the press and other onlookers rose to leave, I left before I could be seen by anyone. My own parents never knew I was there.

I was closing that chapter, facing the reality that I had no family left. And I was moving on.

And moving away.

To Iowa.

But before I did that fully, I had one stop to make. My final goodbye.

For the last time, I walked through my back sliding door. Brushing the tree branches to the side, I stepped carefully along the path. Green, fresh branches of weeds and tree seedlings popped up through the mulch. The lights Noah had hung last fall were on the ground unused since before Thanksgiving. The sight of them made me second-guess myself, but I kept on until I stepped out from the tree line and into his yard.

In the back yard, a large wooden playset was now built. I’d heard the hammering a few weeks ago, early one Saturday morning.

The flashback alone, the pain of the memory of last summer, which now seemed like another lifetime only confirmed I was doing the right thing.

Carefully, I stepped around the side of the house. I didn’t take in anything. I didn’t look to see if he’d planted flowers for Riley or if she had sidewalk chalk scribbled all over his driveway. I saw the large truck and kept my gaze on the front door.

And I didn’t hesitate that time when I reached it, immediately pressing my finger against the doorbell. The door opened before I was fully prepared to face him, and yet still, he took my breath away as he flung open the door.

One hand on the door, he appeared taller than he used to. Maybe I was shorter. Cowardice could take its toll. And Good Lord, he hadn’t become any less good looking in the last few months. But answering the door in only pajama pants and a skin tight t-shirt that showed his muscles was unfair. I yanked my head up, meeting his gaze.

“Lauren.” His head jerked. “What are you doing here?”

I wrung my fingers together in a mangled mess before dropping them to my sides.

“I came to talk. Do you have a few minutes?” This goodbye wasn’t for him. It wasn’t even a courtesy. If he spoke to anyone in town at all, he knew I was leaving.

Leaving and he hadn’t reached out. So no, this goodbye wasn’t for him. It was for me. It was a necessity for my closure to a dream destroyed.

Noah stepped back, and I took the moment to catalog everything. To memorize the man who haunted my dreams and turned them to nightmares. For months, I’d felt the whisper of him through the barren trees. Evaporating by the second, anything he felt for me too brief to grow in the cold and frigid air.

I stepped inside his house, the faint hint of aftershave wafted over me.

Some nights, I still smelled the remnants of that very same aftershave.

Turning once I passed him, I waited until he shut the door.

“How are you?” he asked me.

Odd, the pleasantry sounded beautiful. A hint of caring? Not for me. Not for the sister to the man who murdered half his family.

This cut needed to be clean and quick, spit out with fervor so I could nurse my broken heart and shattered heart in peace, begin the process of gluing it back together.

“I’m leaving.”

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