Page 24

S lumped against the hallway wall, my face buried into my hands, my heart in my mouth, oscillating between rage and teary gratefulness. I should be more stressed over losing my job, but in all honesty, I hated that place and am kind of relieved. No more weird Tony. No more Mr. Bowe’s awkward jokes. It does mean no more Claire too, but judging by the conversation, not working together won’t stall our friendship. The butt-insky brother and sister duo planning my life is more of a concern. I should go in there. Say something. But what?

“You should not be interfering with my life like this?”

“Thank you for interfering in my life like this?”

Both are apt. Neither adequate.

That’s why I take the coward’s way out. With my tail between my legs and my twisted gratitude sitting as a lump of coal in my throat, I move to slink back to bed and pretend to be asleep. But then, then the syrupy cadence of Noah’s voice has me pausing. “I want to kiss her fucking brains out. But, Claire bear, it’s not just that. She’s smart and funny and strong and independent, but kind of vulnerable, too. I want to look after her, learn from her, travel with her, maybe … Love—”

Before he can finish the thought, I’m in the room, mouth agape, breath caught somewhere between my heart and lips. “You feel all those things about me?” I , my voice as timid as a mouse. Shocked by my appearance, Noah blinks a few times, blushes, then stands and moves towards me with the same effortless glide he displays on the ice.

“Would it freak you out if I did?” he asks, hand snaking around my waist. Despite myself, I lean into his touch and nod because I’m unable to form any coherent form of speech with his little finger slipping beneath my tee, his touch sizzles like a snare. “Yes. It would freak you out?”

Nodding again, I manage to eek out a pathetic whimper. Noah laughs, and it’s so rough and grumbly his body jiggles and takes me along for the ride. It feels like I’m holding onto a jackhammer, one my thudding heart instantly synchronizes with.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, I’m not sure, my frontal lobe, home of one’s sense of reason, seems to be the only part of my brain working. Cognizant of Claire’s presence, I take hold of his hand, missing the warmth of his touch before I’ve slid his fingers out from my shirt.

“I … I appreciate what you’ve done, and said, and may even be inclined to feel the same.” The cruelly beautiful delight in Noah’s expression lasts a mere second. “But it doesn’t change anything. I think we are better as friends. And I truly mean that. The thought of not having you in my life is—”

“Nauseating? Unfathomable? A fucking joke?” Noah finishes. There’s still a smile on his face, but because it’s as forced as the one on mine, it fails to crinkle his puppy dog eyes. I’ve done the right thing. I know I have, but making Noah sad leaves me with an overpowering sense of remorse that feels … icky. Like a thousand invisible flesh eating ants are under my skins crawling over my skeleton, kind of icky. Discomfort is fortified by my growling stomach. I need to eat. And sleep more. And figure out work prospects. And not be around Noah. Even when he’s the one I want to be around the most.

That’s a lot of and’s . I wish Gran, or Mom were here. I need someone to guide me through this because this all feels like some serious adulting and I don’t know where to start.

As though she can read my mind Claire sighs, rises to her feet and pads over to Noah and me, rainbow socks slipping over the timber floor. “Lotte. Are you feeling okay? Do you want to talk about work, or Bookz and Beanz? Or can I fix you something to eat before Noah leaves?” Her eyes dart between us and his roll in reply.

“Is that what you want, Lotte. You want me to leave?”

No. Those normally crystal blue orbs are almost gray as they skirt over me, silently pleading as he buries his clenched fists into his pockets. I wonder if that’s to stop himself from touching me? It’s a thoughtful but pointless gesture, their phantom touch warms my skin regardless.

“You probably should.” I reply, “You have a game tomorrow night. Boy Wonder can’t let the team down.” Judging by the furrowing of his brows, me using that nickname was not appreciated.

“One, I don’t have a game. Suspended, remember? And two, Boy Wonder? Did you hear Donnelly call me that?”

“Maybe,” I lie. It’s definitely from Ryan. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

“It’s okay, Little D,” he chuckles, his voice softening as he leans in and tugs one of many errand strands of hair, “I always hated it, but coming from you it’s kind of cute. I’ll allow it.”

“That’s big of you.”

“It is. And, hey. As you know, it’s not the only big thing—”

“Okay, whoa, hey!” Claire’s hand is suddenly thrust between us and waves like she’s doing the Macarena. “I’m here and widely uncomfortable.” The same hand is then shoved into Noah’s chest and used to push him towards the door. “Game or no game, go home Wonder man.

“Boy Wonder,” he corrects with a wink in my direction that somehow turns me on and tells me we will be fine as friends. Friends who flirt, and who I may want to jump the bones of, but friends all the same.

“Whatever, baby bro. Just leave.”

Looking over his shoulder as he goes, Noah lets Claire lead him away, collecting his varsity jacket off the back of a chair and slinging it over his shoulder as he fires off another wink. This time, adding a dimple pop in too. It’s arrogantly, effortlessly sexy.

Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.

Slurping soup she made while I was sleeping, Claire studies me from across the table, ‘are you feeling okay,’ leaving her mouth after every spoonful of chicken broth is swallowed. After this gulp she switches. “I know I told you I would stop interfering and then interfered almost immediately, but I had to. I couldn’t let you wake up to that news without trying something.”

“I know.”

“And if you think about it, I’ve really just laid the groundwork. Securing a job is ultimately up to you. I’ve just—”

“Lay the groundwork. I know.” I repeat.

“Right. And Noah? He did the same. Calling ahead to get you an interview at Beanz is just—”

“Groundwork. You seem to like that word, Claire. Perhaps you should leave Royal Rolls with me, and start a landscaping business with Noah. You can call it, ‘Interfering in your Indigofera.’”

A blank look washes over Claire’s face. “What’s Indigofera?”

With a smile, I point to the collection of houseplants that line my little balcony. “The pinky- purple flowers. They usually don’t do great in pots, but Gran taught me how to trim and keep them healthy. One day, when I have my own house with a big garden, I’m going to plant them and let them grow to their full potential.”

“And I will be there to interfere with the worst possible advice available.” Raising her glass of Dr Pepper, she clinks it against mine, begins to speak, then quickly peruses her lips.

“Were you going to ask me if I’m okay again?” It’s a pointless question. I know the answer. She knows I know the answer.

“Maybe.”

Dropping my spoon, I twist in my seat, taking a minute to meditate over Grans HOME wall before replying. “I wasn’t okay, but I will be. An attack like that is exhausting, physically and mentally. But it wasn’t just that. It’s Marty and Donna. You and Noah. Quinn and Brady. Now changing jobs, too. My life has altered more in the past few weeks than has in the last few years. And don’t get me wrong. I’m happy about that. Especially you.” I lean across the table and squeeze Claire’s hand. “It’s just a lot of change in a short space of time. And for someone who’s not a fan of change, it’s …” Unsure of how to explain, I let my words trail off.

“We may be facing different issues, but I get it. Really I do,” she adds emphatically. “When Mom was sick I went from full-time college student to full-time carer, surrogate hockey mom, and sole income earner. Then when she died, the responsibility multiplied by a thousand. Work at the clinic was affecting me too. Seeing all those sick kids have seizures in the waiting room, learning others passed away, it was too much. Panic attacks hit me every other day and the strain it placed on my marriage was terrifying. All this happened within a few months, and I hardly had time to catch up.”

Guilt twists my stomach. “Sorry Claire. I didn’t mean to go on like I’m the only person with problems.”

“And I know you didn’t. I was empathizing, Lot. Pain and heartache isn’t a competition. You can only deal with what you know and kid, you’ve had a shit load to deal with. Never doubt how amazing I, and all the people you mentioned before, think you are.”

I don’t have a response to that, so I resume eating and make a joke. “This soup, though delicious, feels a little too healthy for my liking. I can taste like … zero sugar.”

“That’s because there is none. Just bone broth and vegetables and love.” Unconsciously I grimace and stare at my bowl. I have no idea what bone broth is and I’m certain I want it to stay that way. “It’s one of Noah’s favorite postgame feeds,” Claire continues, “Except I make a pot for him with added pasta. Got to feed the muscles and that fat head of his.”

It’s the first time Noah’s name has come up since he left and my glass face hides zero awkwardness. Stirring the soup, I focus on breaking up a large chunk of carrot. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was sneaking around with him. With Noah, I mean.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” There’s a smile in her voice, I can’t see it as I haven’t dared look up from the bowl. “Noah should have known better, and will, I’m sure, soon be consoled. It’s prime bunny season. There’s a veritable colony just waiting to bounce into his lap. Besides, with such an uncertain future he’s in no position to tie himself down.”

Something in her tone rubs me the wrong way, grazing my over sensitive nerves. “Even if something happened between us, I would never tie him down.”

From the clank emanating across the table, I’d say Claire dropped her spoon.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Lotte.” Her tone is clipped. Cold. Most un-Claire like. I wait for further clarification or perhaps reassurance but none is forthcoming. “But like I said. Don’t worry about Noah being alone. He never is for long.”

Hmm.

“Besides,” she continues, “judging by that kiss at the game, Ryan is super into you. Maybe that’s something you could explore?”

Bile rises in my throat at the thought of Ryan’s lips on mine. I wanted no part of that kiss, and after witnessing me flee from the scene like Forrest Gump, one would think Claire could have judged that, too. Shifting in my seat, I glance to my big, white HOME wall and feel the safe, warm arms of Gran wrap around me. There’s only one other person who invokes anything remotely close to that and it ain’t Ryan Donnelly. “Exploration doesn’t do it for me, Claire. I think I’ll stick close to home.”