Page 106 of Prove Me Wrong
NOAH
This is the seventh time I have glanced at my phone today, and there’s still nothing from Mia. My heart sinks further into my ribs as I shove it back into my pocket, getting back to working on the Mazda that was brought in earlier this morning. I have to finish off a basic maintenance check of oil levels, brake pads, and engine function, but I can’t focus. My brain is so foggy that it hurts to think. The heavy fumes in the air are bringing on my headache quicker as I lean over the bonnet.
“You okay, Noah?” Damon thankfully doesn't scare me out of my skin today. It must be because he knows how troubled I've been this past week.
Eyes moving to his, I groan, leaning back to stretch out. “Yeah.”
His eyebrows flick up, not believing me. Honestly, I don’t believe myself, either. “That’s the saddestyeahI’ve heard in my life.”
“Fine, Damon. I’m not okay,” I grunt out, bending back over the engine.
Damon’s hand grabs the back of my shirt, forcing me to look at him again. This man has been like a father to me since Jade was born, and I hate being rude to him, but the last thing I want today is more of his games. “All right,” he lets out kindly, dropping his hand so that I can rearrange my top. “Did youspeak with them?”
“I blocked them. I don’t want my parents to get a hold of me again.”
His mouth tightens along with my jaw. “Is it your babysitter? She’s still not back?”
“I don’t know if she is.” My words come out as a growl because they feel bitter on my tongue. I sound pathetic being this hung up on someone, but I can’t lie to myself. I want Mia, and I don’t know how much longer I can go on without talking to her. It’s driving me mental.
“I’m sure she will come home, Noah.”
“How do you know?” I snap without meaning to, but my skin is prickling all over with flushed irritation. “How, Damon?”
His shoulders loosen. I toss the rag in my hand on the engine and walk outside. I need some oxygen. The air feels thick like freezing soup, making it harder to breathe. The wintry breeze dances along my skin that’s burning with anger. Sweet smells of dew hit my nose as I suck in a deep breath, attempting to control my heavy breathing. It’s hard. Too hard. I inhale deeper, air getting clogged in my throat as my chest moves faster. Then, the hyperventilating begins.
Damon’s in front of me, hands holding my shoulders tightly.
I hadn’t realised I was bent over, clamping my eyes shut when the crushing feeling pressed down on me.
“Breathe, Noah. Just breathe.”
Choking on oxygen, my hand grabs my chest, lungs hardly moving as they sting.Is this what a heart attack feels like? No, it’s another wretched panic attack.
Head between my shoulders, my body shakes all over as the stabbing pains continue.In for five. Hold for five. Out for five.
“Noah, it’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”
“I can’t—lose her. I can’t—lose another—person,” I rasp out, my vision blurring. Damon holds me in the middle of the footpath as I feel myself cracking after months of staying strong. “I can’t?—”
“I know, and you won’t, Noah,” he reassures me, his scent of oil and grease reminding me that we’re meant to be working right now. Hands trembling, I gain control of myself again, hating the feeling of panicking. I haven’t felt this in over a year. “Maybe you should go home.”
My head shakes because the last thing I want is to be home alone, being swallowed up by my thoughts and surrounded by silence. In the place that reminds me that she’s no longer around. It’s Monday, so she wouldn’t be over today, but I still envision her in every room. It’s like her ghost is there, lingering. “I don’t want to.”
“What do you want then?”
My gaze meets his, the warmth of his cobalt irises deepening. I sniff loudly. “I just want her back.”
His hands rest on my shoulders, jaw locked. Eyes thinning, Damon murmurs, “Then go get her back.”
“But—I don’t know where she is.”
Damon pushes me towards my car out on the street, not listening to my excuse. “You’ll find a way to get the address. Now go. I’m giving you the week off.”
“But—”
“Go, Noah. I can’t have a lovesick boy in my shop. These cars can’t be fixed by tears.” His mouth quirks upwards.
My chest heaves as Damon fishes out my keys from my jeans pocket and slams them into my palm. Determination sets in his darker features, mixed with a tinge of sympathy.
