Page 13

When I woke up Friday morning, I wasn’t alone in my bed. A few inches away from me, Noah slept on top of the sheets, his forearm thrown over his face to block the rising sun.

His chest rose and fell in a peaceful cadence, and the rhythm almost lulled me back to sleep as I tried to clear the crust from my eyes.

I peered at his resting form from the open door of my bathroom as I brushed my teeth, knowing he would be pissed when he woke up.

Even though I was the person who knew him inside and out, he hated any glimpse I got of his imperfections.

It wasn’t his fault. The sleep meds he took made him sleepwalk from time to time. And whenever he did, he ended up in my room instead of back in his.

It only happened a few times a month, and when it did, I didn’t give a shit. He told me more than once to sleep with my door closed so he wouldn’t have the option to come inside, but that was something I couldn’t do.

I couldn’t leave him hanging when all he wanted was a familiar body to sleep beside while he battled whatever demons he didn’t speak about.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was subconsciously seeking connection. The same connection he was seeking when he showed up on my doorstep two years ago and asked if he could stay with me while he got over his breakup.

Noah didn’t do well with being alone. Especially when he was going through something. He needed to know someone was beside him.

Maybe it was a side effect of being the eldest sibling, but I liked being someone’s safe place. Even if we never talked about it in the light of day. He was my best friend, not everything needed an explanation. For years, I'd waken up to find my younger brother in bed beside me. He was only three years younger than me and it lasted until I graduated high school and moved out. This wasn't any different. My mother would say it was a compliment that people felt so safe around me.

I finished brushing my teeth and washed my face with the new products my sister sent me last week. Then I walked in my closet to get dressed for the day.

Noah was still knocked out when I walked out, tucking my shirt into my slacks. My suspenders were folded in my pocket. I’d put them on when I got to the resort. I doubled back to the closet and grabbed the shoes I wanted to wear before I stepped into the hall, trying to be quiet.

The kitchen was my destination until I remembered Noah would need his phone so he didn’t sleep past his alarm.

In his room, I pulled his phone from the wireless charging station on his nightstand and headed back to my room, placing it on the pillow next to him.

Later, when I was making coffee, my mind traveled back to what I’d witnessed last night.

Maybe Noah’s days of being alone were coming to an end. If the way True had been holding onto him was any sign. She’d been wearing his clothes from top to bottom and it wasn’t hard to guess what they were doing before I got home.

How the hell had I missed that he was seeing someone? More importantly, how had I missed that it washer?

She was the last person I expected to see on his arm when I opened the door yesterday.

It was embarrassing how fast I clammed up when Noah made introductions, but he caught me off guard. The next time she came around, I’d do better…be better. I didn’t like the hurt that shuttered her eyes before she masked it and looked away, holding onto Noah like she wanted to get away from me.

My only option had been toget out of their way, so I stepped aside and watched them for too long before I finally walked in the house.

Finishing the last of my coffee, I put the mug in the dishwasher and made a quick breakfast. I left a sausage, egg and cheese bagel sandwich warming for Noah in the oven and packed mine to go.

When I made it outside to my truck, I couldn’t stop my eyes from traveling to the cabin behind our house and the car that hadn’t been there yesterday morning.

“True St. John.”

Ruby Jean’s granddaughter.

Liked Sade.

Liked to dance.

Now I had something new to add to that list.

Dating my best friend.

“Look who finally answered the phone,” my mother’s saccharine voice filtered through my earbuds as I moved around the house doing mindless chores. There wasn’t really anything that needed to be done, but my inability to stare at my blank document a second longer had me up on my feet. I’d already done the world’s smallest load of laundry, rearranged the record collection my sister left me and did a full face of makeup.

I’d been hoping that applying my favorite shade of red from The Lip Bar would signal to my brain I meant business, but the only thing I got from spreading “Rich Auntie” on my lips was a new batch of selfies and a mountain of frustration.