What Never Happened by Howzell Hall Rachel

Author:Howzell Hall, Rachel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2023-08-01T00:00:00+00:00

19.

Friday, March 13, 2020

Noah tastes like whiskey and gummy bears.

Before tonight, I hated the flavors of smoke and wood on a man’s tongue. Tonight, though . . . on Noah . . . he is a feast of flavors, and his kisses taste like vanilla, oranges, and candied almonds.

Right there beside the water, we make out like nineteen-year-olds, and I’m now the girl that mothers whisper about, the one letting her boyfriend disrespect her like that in public.

“Come home with me,” I say, catching my breath.

Before he can say yes—and his lips are formed to say yes—his phone rings with “Bohemian Rhapsody.” His eyebrows furrow.

“Uh-oh,” I say. “Your mother heard you were making out on the pier.”

“I’m about to get grounded.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, and the picture of an older blonde with his eyes brightens the phone’s screen. “Sorry, I have to—”

“No need to explain.” I give him the “no problem” smile.

“Mom, hey,” he says. “Everything okay?”

I step away and give him space. Out on the Pacific, lights burn on barges that carry televisions, fuzzy jackets, and scooters. I check my own phone and find a missed call from Andrea Liszl. She’s left a voice mail.

“Colette. Andrea, hi. Seems we’re having a hard time connecting. This book, oh my goodness, we have to get going on the manuscript. Listen: I’m flying to the West Coast next week, and I’ve never been to Catalina Island. Let’s say I pop over and we meet in person? Let me know. Talk soon. Bye.”

My stomach is a storm now, and I regret listening to this message. Not that the dying mood is all on me . . .

Noah’s hand covers his eyes as he listens to his mother shout into the phone.

I don’t want to be at the hospital . . . They say I have a fever . . . Come get me . . .

“Hey, Mom.” Noah’s eyes flick over to me. “Okay . . . okay . . . she hung up.” He pushes out a breath, then runs his hand through his wet hair.

I tug the sleeve of his jacket. “Sounds like chaos.”

He tries to smile. “She’s at the hospital. No one except her nurse is there—”

“Go,” I say, shooing him away, feeling guilty about not checking on Gwen all this time.

He takes my hand, then leans in for another kiss. “I’ll walk you to your cart.”

Then, at my cart, he says, “I should follow you home.”

“I live right there.” I point toward Beacon Street. “Less than a mile away. You’re going in the opposite direction.”

“Seriously,” he says, “The night nurse is—”

“Bohemian Rhapsody” plays from the phone again, and the picture of Elle Bancroft once again brightens the screen.

“She needs you,” I say.

“I need you.” He kisses me, and my blood becomes boozy even though I haven’t had a drink since June 2001.

But I push him away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

One last kiss, and he climbs into his cart.

At the stop sign, I turn right, and he turns left.

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