Page 109 of The One Night Dash
But that’s not all she said that had me lying awake. She talked about how she also wouldn’t have ever gotten to a place where she could accept love, if she didn’t stop wanting to be where love wasn’t given, where it couldn’t grow, where villains who weren’t rapists and murderers, but people who take pleasure in slowly bleeding you dry, feed off your hurt, to fuel their own sick need. “Friends in sheep’s clothing,” like Lauren and those bitches at the wedding.
Noelle found her people, and now she can fix the things she feels responsible for when she pushed away her family. I don’t think that’s abnormal. You go to college and focus on building a better future. You graduate; you focus on your career. I see it as part of life, but it’s okay she sees it different. I’m just glad to be by her side as she goes through it and hope to see a time when that little bit of cloud in her otherwise blue sky drifts away.
Yesterday, my family and hers hung out at the bookstore and saw some of Noelle’s favorite places while I was at the arena. We shared a meal before I headed back for the game, and they were all in the box together, watching the Bears.
I was exhausted during the game, but we still won. Noelle and I still hit Icehouse, while the rest of them headed to Harrington.
We followed suit.
When we get to the stop where you can take a left toward the harbor, pass the town, and head toward where Noelle’s family home is, I can’t help but look right.
Noelle squeezes my hand. “You good?”
I nod right. “Harrington Hill,the crownof the town, where the oldest and wealthiest families live. That stone estate at the top.” I point, and she nods. “Surrounded by a wall, there’s a guard shed at a wrought-iron gate that leads to a driveway long enough to hide the house from the road. Stunning home with all white columns, manicured gardens, and a ballroom that used tosmell like old wood polish and money. The Sterling family crest over the fireplace, oil portraits of old, asshole ancestors in the hall.”
I shake my head. “There is a bench I had to sit at when Dad visited. I was never asked in. Got to sit there and stare at the photos of a bunch of assholes I swore I would never be like.”
“A man of your word,” she says sweetly.
“Also said I’d buy that place one day and sit in every room in that place, toss the pictures in the fireplace, and watch them burn.” I force a laugh. “Might have wanted to drop a bomb on it, too.”
“I mean, that’s probably not a good idea.”
I turn and look at her. “Which part?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. Wasn’t my childhood fantasy; it’s yours.”
“Let me guess, yours was owning a bookstore or writing books.”
She shakes her head. “I sat solid in wanting to be a unicorn until like eight years old.”
I chuckle. “You’re my unicorn.”
“You’re mine, too.”
I must stare too long because she squeezes my hand again, “Go drive by it. No one can stop you from doing that.”
So we do, and not one thing has changed.
“How do you feel?” she asks as we come back down the hill.
“Still kind of want to bomb it.” I laugh.
When we get to her family’s house, our moms are at the table, drinking tea.
I walk in and give my mom a hug and a kiss. Noelle does the same to hers.
“Tea?” Maryanne asks, standing.
I hitch my duffel bag over my shoulder. “How about I leave you ladies to do whatever tea drinking ladies do at midnight?”
“That’s code for Dash is exhausted.” Mom smiles. “Go.”
I kiss Noelle’s forehead. “Hang out. I’m good.”
She nods.
As soon as I hit her bed, I am done.
