Page 23

I set the alarm by the front door and sat on the sofa.

I clicked on the television and went to Netflix.

When I wasn’t upstairs in my room, I’d sit in the living room with Mama and watch TV.

I almost jumped through my skin when she was flipping through Netflix, and I saw Girlfriends .

It was one of Leah and my favorite shows.

Girlfriends and Gilmore Girls . Whenever they came on, if we weren’t together, we’d call each other and sit on the phone and watch.

The memory wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a cold day.

Mama showed me how to turn on Netflix, which wasn’t very hard since the button was on the remote control.

It still amazed me that I could watch these shows, and there were no commercials.

It used to feel like I’d be holding my breath waiting for a commercial so Leah and I could talk about what just happened.

I guess we could always pause it, but that didn’t feel the same.

I was halfway through the show when my stomach started grumbling.

I needed to eat. A giddiness that I couldn’t even describe came over me when I walked into the kitchen and pulled a pan from the hanger above the island.

I pulled out the carton of eggs and bacon from the refrigerator and sat them by the stove.

One day, hopefully soon, I could cook breakfast for Skye the way Mama cooked for me.

I poured a little oil into the pan, turned the knob on the stove, and waited for the pan to heat.

It was silly, but being alone and cooking for myself made me feel like a real adult.

Mama wasn’t there to cook for me and fix my plate.

Adam wasn’t there to make me eat, whether I was hungry or not.

His hunger was my hunger. I believed that was what he thought.

My mind played devil’s advocate and pulled me deeper into the memory of that time.

I was snatched out at the smell of smoke and a loud shrill that made me cover my ears before I thought to pull the pan from the eye of the stove.

I turned the stove off, moved the pan over, and then covered my ears again while I tried to find the alarm.

Sound seemed to come from everywhere. Fear gripped me.

I snatched open the back door just as Lance ran toward the house.

“Are you okay?” he asked, still running.

I nodded. “I forgot. The pan was ... I was just ...” My words were like puzzle pieces that someone needed to slide into place to make sense of them.

Lance moved past me and waved his hand in front of his face from the smoke. “Stand outside,” he instructed.

I didn’t move.

“Nova, stand outside.” He pointed, his voice louder and sterner than before.

I flinched, then relaxed when our eyes met. They weren’t the eyes of a madman but the eyes of a man who cared about me. Always cared about me.

“Go,” he said again.

I went out in the backyard and waited for what felt like forever before Lance came out.

I lowered my head in shame. I couldn’t even cook a simple egg without almost burning down the house.

How was I supposed to live on my own one day?

I didn’t want anyone treating me like a baby, yet that was exactly what I was.

Not in age, of course, but in mind. A real adult would know better than to daydream, or rather day “nightmare” while cooking.

I slumped to the cold ground, where I sat until Lance came out.

“You okay?” He bent, his arms resting on his legs.

“I’m fine.” I focused on everything except him.

Lance stood and reached his hand out to me. I looked at it for a second before accepting his help. He pulled me up, apparently unaware of how light I was because I collided with him.

“Sorry.” I moved away, putting distance between us.

He shook his head. “That was my fault.” He turned back to the house. “You may wanna stay out here for a while. At least until the smoke clears a little more.”

I hugged myself, suddenly aware of the chill in the air.

Lance took off his sweatshirt and gave it to me. I hesitated once again.

“Take it,” he insisted.

I wanted to protest, but the chill bumps on my arms told me not to. I pulled his hoodie over my head and inhaled the scent of Lance. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

I had so many things I wanted to say to him, but my nerves wouldn’t let me. Instead, I turned away from him, intending to sit on the outdoor furniture surrounding the firepit, but then I stopped.

“Something wrong?” Lance asked, his footsteps crunching against the leaves.

I was so caught up in the disaster I almost caused that it didn’t even dawn on me what I’d done.

I faced Lance, who stood closer to me but not too close.

I scanned the backyard, then bent down and picked up one of the yellowish-orange leaves.

“This is the first time I’ve been outside since I’ve been home.

” I didn’t know if I was talking to Lance, myself, or the air, but I needed to put words to my realization.

“You’ve been inside for six days?” he asked as if that was impossible.

“Yeah,” I said, dropping the leaf.

I looked up and saw a smile that split his face in two.

“I’m sorry. I’m still trying to remind myself that you’re here.” His smile dropped a little, but not much. “I missed you.”

I didn’t acknowledge his words because I thought it was the first time I’d really paid attention to Lance.

He was bigger and older, but he was Lance.

His deep-set rich-brown eyes connected with mine.

His once boyishly smooth jawline was now covered in a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, making him look much more mature than I remembered.

My eyes were locked on him, and I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. I felt a strange mix of familiarity and detachment. It was Lance, my Lance, and yet he was a stranger. But unlike other strangers, he didn’t scare me.