Page 19 of Finding Noah

“Noah, I have been looking all over for you,” she scolded, reaching for my jacket sleeve and pulling me to my feet.

“Sorry, I was just—”

“We have to get home and make dinner. You still have home—”

She gasped as the guy stood, and then she cleared her throat and diverted her eyes. I noticed her cheeks were turning red, like she was embarrassed or something.

“I-I'm sorry he was bothering you,” she said quickly. “Come on, Noah. Let's go.”

“He's fine,” the guy said. “It was nice to actually talk to someone.”

I glanced up at him and the small, shy smile he wore. I felt really bad for him then, thinking about the time we had moved into town and not known anyone. But at least Mom and I had had each other then. I didn't think this guy had anyone else living in that little house with him. It was just him.

No friends. No family.

I could be his friend.

Would he want to be friends with me?

Mom was quiet for a moment as she looked at him too. She swallowed and said, “Um … well, have a nice day.”

“Yeah, you too,” he replied with a little wave. “Bye, Noah. Thanks for the chat.”

Mom was already hurrying me away, dragging me along like she used to when I was a little kid. Why was she acting so weird?

I glanced over my shoulder and gave him a little smile. “Bye. I'll see you around.”

And I meant it.

One way or another, I was going to make that guy my friend.

Because he was nice, and he was big, and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could scare Dad away for good.

***

His name was Soldier, which I thought was kinda weird, and he had a kitten named Eleven, which I thought was even weirder.

But what was weirdest was that, after we'd all become friends, he and Mom got close. Like, really close, and I knew they liked each other before they told me they were dating one day, after I came home from a sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa's house to find them in the kitchen.

Mom was in her robe, and Soldier wasn't wearing a shirt, and a gross feeling began to grow and grow in my stomach until I thought I would throw up.

Because I liked Soldier. He was cool, and he was my friend. But what if I was wrong about him? I mean, he'd been to jail—prison—and I still didn't really know why. What if he was one of the bad guys? What if he was worse than Dad? And if he was …

How could I save Mom from him?

I had a chance of hurting Dad, but Soldier?

He was huge, and he was strong, and if he wanted to, he could squash me like a freakin' bug!

But even worse than that, what if he hurt Mom?

I regretted ever talking to him. I regretted ever thinking we could be friends, and angrily, I stared at the plates of food they had cooked and wondered what I was going to do if I ever had to fight two men instead of the one I had needed to get rid of since I had been born.

“Hey.”

“What?”

I barely lifted my gaze toward him and stared at his bare chest, and it made me mad. Why wasn't he wearing a shirt? No, no, I knew why, and it made me feel even yuckier than I’d felt before, thinking about him and Mom doing … things together, things they’d taught us about in Health class.