Page 6 of Noel I Won’t
Hopper raised one eyebrow, and his gaze traveled over my much shorter frame. No doubt he’d noticed that my biceps did not bulge with muscle like his did and that my thighs weren’t built like saplings. We couldn’t all be Paul Bunyan.
I stepped up to the car, grabbed my largest bag, and wrestled it out of the trunk, grunting with effort. Hopper stood by, watching as I swung a duffel over my shoulder, grabbed my laptop bag, and then tried for my second suitcase.
The duffel slid down my arm, pulling me off-balance. I lost my grip on the second suitcase, and it thudded into the snow.
“Damn it!”
“Okay,” Hopper said mildly as Cinnamon danced around me, giving an eager bark. “Now that we’re done with that, how about you let me help?”
I scowled. “I got it.”
I grabbed the handle, nearly pulling a muscle to lug all of my bags over the rocky ground. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t let Hopper help me, only that I needed to assert my authority.
He was already helping my parents too much, and god knew what he hoped to get out of it. I couldn’t reinforce the idea that he was running the show here. This wasmyfamily’s tree farm.
Cinnamon raced ahead, though she was overweight by at least thirty pounds and didn’t move all that fast. Clearly, her working farm dog days were behind her. She’d retired, much like my father needed to do.
Laden with bags as I was, she might as well have been going fifty miles an hour, though. I was slogging along like a snail.
To my annoyance, Hopper kept pace with me, rather than fucking off to the woods again.
“Your room is ready for you,” he said, an oddly challenging note in his voice.
“Yeah? Good.” I hesitated. “You didn’t get it ready for me, did you?”
“No, I’m not a fucking maid.”
“Good, because I don’t need one.”
“Your mom worked long and hard to make it just right for you, though,” he added grudgingly. “Try to look appropriately impressed, okay? I’m sure this old house is nothing like your fancy Chicago condo, but it’s home.”
I turned a glare on him. “It’s not your home.”
There was a flicker in his eyes, almost a flinch, and his jaw tightened. I tried not to feel bad. Hopper was here, all but claiming my place as heir apparent, and I wasn’t going to stand by and let him take advantage of my parents.
I halted as we reached the yard, taking in the house and its surroundings. Everything looked a little more…wornthan I remembered.
The house paint was fading and chipped in places. The porch was still sturdy, but two boards had been replaced and repainted, not quite matching the rest. The stand of trees near the entrance was smaller than usual, and the lights that had been strung all over the property during the holiday season were missing.
It might be too early for all that decorating, or…maybe Hopper wasn’t helping as much as I’d thought he was. Maybe he was half-assing it and still hoping for a pat on the back. Well, he wouldn’t be getting one now that I was here.
The door opened, and Mom rushed out onto the porch. Dad came behind her, moving slowly.
“Damn,” I whispered.
They’d gotten old when I wasn’t looking. Their hair was faded, their faces tired. I dropped my bags and jogged across the yard so they wouldn’t try to come meet me.
“Noel!” Mom cried. “It’s so good to see you.”
I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her damp cheek against mine, and guilt swelled. I should have come sooner. I should have been here to help them instead of our neighbor having to do it. If I could just have been the good, strapping corn-fed American boy they needed…
No. That way lay ruin.
I was who I was. I couldn’t be a farmer any more than Hopper could become a chef.
“I missed you guys,” I said. “Dad, are you really okay?”
Mom released me so Dad could clap me on the shoulder. “I’m good now, Noel. Real good. Don’t you worry about that.”
