Page 2 of Finding Noah

“I want him,” she whispered, putting her hand against the plastic.

“Rain,” her mom replied in a tone just as quiet, just as gentle, “I think … I really think we need to talk about this. We need to consider … well—”

“You’re sixteen, sweetheart,” her father interjected, reminding her of the fact, like she’d forgotten. “You can’t be a mother.”

“But I already am,” Rain replied firmly. “He’s mine.”

He was Seth’s too. She couldn’t forget that. But looking at this baby’s sweet little face, angelic and pure, even with the countless wires taped to various parts of his tiny body, she realized something beautiful could come from something so hideous. When she looked at this little baby, she understood he was just as much of a victim as she was.

“Okay,” her mother said with a deep breath of resignation. “Okay. We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out.”

Her father resumed his vow of silence, keeping his thoughts to himself, and Rain was grateful.

This was hard for him—she knew that. It was hard for all of them.

“Well, your son needs a name,” her mother stated, wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Any ideas?”

The truth was, Rain hadn’t gotten that far in her panicked thoughts, no matter how many months had passed. She thought she had more time. She was supposed to have more. She was supposed to tell her parents before the baby was born. He wasn’t supposed to spend the first weeks of his life growing inside a box.

But she was never supposed to get mixed up with Seth in the first place.

She never should’ve gone to The Pit—that clearing in the woods near the high school where kids went to get high, get drunk, and have sex.

But she had, and now, her son needed a name.

“Noah,” she said without hesitation, knowing that nothing else felt more right.

Nothing could be more him.

CHAPTER ONE

DIRTY FLOORS & DIRTY MONEY

AGE SIX

“Mommy?”

I peeked into the dark, dark room. Daddy was gone. He had left so fast, before I could ask if he wanted to play. Daddy never wanted to play, but I always asked anyways because maybe, one day, he'd want to.

But Mommy was crying now.

She cried a lot after Daddy left, but sometimes, she also cried while he was here.

I thought she just missed him.

I missed him too.

We didn't see Daddy a lot.

I climbed onto her bed and crawled beside her. Her hands were covering her face, like she didn't want anyone to see her cry, like it was a secret. But I could hear her noisy, snotty sniffles. She was sad, and I hated it when Mommy was sad.

“Mommy?” I asked again.

My bottom lip started to wriggle as I lay down next to her.

I really hated when she was sad.

She took a super-loud, boogery breath, like she was sick with a yucky cold, and quickly wiped her hands over her face. Then, finally, she looked at me, and I smiled big because she was smiling too.