Noah (More Than Friends Book 2)

by Fiona Keane

  I looked away, waiting for her response, and reached for a fry. It was almost to my lips when hers pressed against mine first, challenging my resolve and that poor fry. It dropped into my lap as her fingers climbed from my jaw to the back of my head, kneading against my skull. It wasn’t just that Lizzie’s lip gloss tasted like a damn cupcake, but her lips were so soft, her kiss unbelievably perfect, I lost my breath. I didn’t close my eyes. I couldn’t miss this, miss her.

  Lizzie’s lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. “Better get that fry. You don’t want a grease stain on those pants. I like the way your butt looks in them.”

  ***

  It was difficult to hear my own thoughts once we stepped out of the pub, minutes before closing time to beat the flood of drunks, and into the strengthened storm. Lizzie clung to me beneath the awning while I zipped my jacket.

  “Feel like running?” I teased, taking her hand in mine. I watched her scan the Capitol in front of us, the swollen streams of rain swirling past us toward the sewers along Main Street, and finally her stare stopped on our hands. They glistened with rain splashed from the awning, and I knew we’d be drenched before getting back to our street. Our street. She lived just blocks from me…this entire time. Maybe she knew Callie…maybe I need to shut the hell up and start moving.

  We made it two blocks around the Square before the sky pulsed a violet flash and Lizzie’s talons pierced through my layers, clawing my latest tattoo and leaving a scar. Maybe that was an exaggeration, but I had no idea the damage those things could do. I didn’t know at what moment I should tell her my dog also hated storms and would, had he not already left his dinner in a warm pile on my pillowcase, panic without me.

  I wrapped my left arm around the shaking, and surprisingly quiet, woman clinging to me and started running toward Gilman. Between rumbles of thunder, which caused Lizzie to shriek and tighten her hold around my stomach, I thought I heard someone squeal…or cry…

  “What is that?”

  “I don’t know,” I hollered back to Lizzie, trying to keep our pace. It was clearly a cry and, as we turned onto our street, I could see in between purple flashes of lightning and the dim streetlights, an animal was running toward us. I squinted in the rain, checking that its wobbling limp wasn’t my imagination.

  “Oh, shit,” I groaned, slipping away from Lizzie to collect Muffin. His cry dropped to a pained bellow before my knees met the pavement and he limped into my arms.

  “Buddy,” I cooed, half laughing as his cold, wet snout was all over my chin and nose while he kissed the crap out of me.

  Lizzie caught up with me and squatted at my side. “Who’s this little guy? He looks terrified!”

  I scrunched my face, eyes closed and skin wet from the rain and my frightened dog, while Muffin licked his appreciation across my cheek. “This is my dog. How’d you get out, old man?” Lizzie’s hands trailed along my back as we stood, and I stuffed Muffin under my coat. His smooshed face wiggled to stick out from the zipper while we walked. “He probably scratched his way out. He hates storms.”

  Lizzie tickled Muffin’s head, and I froze, waiting for him to snap like he had done to Callie and even Silas. “Hi, buddy.” My eyes flickered between Lizzie’s hand and Muffin, feeling his grumble of affection and praise against my chest. He hates people. Except the chief and me.

  Lightning flashed above us, illuminating the sky with darkened shadows cast by the buildings and trees along our route. Muffin lowered into my coat, resting like a fetus above the waistband of my pants. My hands were free, until Lizzie’s right fingers once more wove their possession around mine. Our pace quickened again, our hands almost slipping apart from the rain. I tried to use both hands to hold her as we ran beneath the thundering cloud, limited with the bulge in my coat.

  Puddles splashed around us, and we were hysterical with laughter, even as another bolt of lightning exploded the sky above us. She screamed, I held her closer, and we kept running.

  I tugged on her hand, rewarded with her body slamming into my side with no desire to move. “What are you doing?” Lizzie questioned with a laugh, wrapping her arms around mine. “We’re going to get electrocuted.”

  “I live right here.” I nodded to my building. “Do you want to come and let the storm pass?” It had to be almost three in the morning, and she lived just blocks away, but I really didn’t want her alone out there. By the gentle smile on her face that widened with her eager nod, I knew she didn’t want to be alone either.

  ***

  It took my breath away, walking into the living room and catching Lizzie swaddled in my hoodie while she sorted through my vinyl collection, Muffster snoring inches from Lizzie’s bare feet. Dark blue polish. I knew it. Her toes were adorable. Her ankles were perfect. The fact she was in my living room waiting out the storm, wearing my sweatshirt, was unbelievable. While I caught my breath, letting my balls return from near-explosion and my heartbeat slow, I held our steaming cups of tea. The overwhelming scent of jasmine, the boisterous thunder, and sheets of rain slamming against the window were pushing my senses into overload.

  A pulse of light rippled through the room, distracting me enough to walk toward Lizzie. She took her cup with a smile, holding it with the hand not wrapped around her front. I sat on the arm of my couch, quietly watching her. Just over a week ago, we’d lived blocks apart and never knew the other existed. Just over a week ago, her friend almost died. I lost a love. I could get called up at any damn second—what the hell was I doing? Time is too precious.

  “I like you, Lizzie,” I blurted, gaping at Elizabeth Jacqueline Lewis and her dark blue polish in my living room.

  She grinned, eyes sparkling in the flashes of lightning. “You should take me on a real date then. I’m not sure rescuing me from Brett and waking me up in the middle of the night really count as dates.”

  “His name’s Ben, and we both know you were waiting up for me.”

  Her fingertip stopped moving, suspended above my record collection somewhere between Led Zeppelin albums, and I caught the corner of her mouth twitch. “I may have been.”

  I licked my lips, watching Lizzie sift through my records with her other hand secured around her mug of tea. “I’m glad you stayed. Right now.”

  Lizzie hummed, smiling at me while she turned from the records. I wanted to look at that smiling face, watching the steam billow from around her dainty fingers while she drank tea in my home, for more than just to let the storm pass. Dammit. I let out a heavy sigh and stood from the couch, walking past Lizzie to the kitchen. I needed just one minute to beat myself up and apologize for leading us on.

  “What’s the story behind the totem pole?” Lizzie questioned after following me, her fingertips tracing my tattoo while I clutched the countertop, staring out the kitchen window. I stared up at the droplets trailing down the window pane, trying to find the words to tell Lizzie I was an idiot.

  Turning around, I leaned against the edge of the counter and crossed my arms. Her gaze followed my forearms, analyzing my tattoos like Avery did the morning I’d held her while Ben and Nina saved Sean.

  “I need to tell you something,” I uttered, watching her pupils narrow while her eyes avoided mine. “The totem pole is from after undergrad. A few of us spent a summer in Alaska.” I twisted my wrists, turning my forearms while we both now stared at them. “It’s to honor the trip, to honor my friend’s family.”

  “What were you doing in Alaska? The winters here are bad enough.” Her laugh sounded like it battled a scoff. Lizzie stepped back, standing against the fridge with her hands pressing into the pouch of her sweatshirt. My sweatshirt.

  I turned away, sorting through the cabinet next to my sink, and pulled out a bottle of merlot, tipping it toward Lizzie. “This conversation requires wine. It isn’t bubbly.”

  “I can handle it,” she replied, taking the wine. I didn’t let go, and we stood in the kitchen, staring at each other in some odd competition to demonstrate determination, and it only made me w
ant her more…which hurt like hell. “Not bubbly wine, not bubbly conversation. I’m here. Where’s your opener?”

  I watched Lizzie’s gaze move throughout the kitchen in search of a corkscrew while our hands remained fastened around a wine bottle. I finally let go, grabbing the corkscrew from the counter behind me, and nodded for her to follow me back into the living room.

  Her footsteps were quiet in my shadow as we sat on my couch, each taking up an end. Lizzie reached for the corkscrew, scooting closer to me until her thigh met mine and she turned her body to face me. Neither of us flinched when the thunder crackled outside. I didn’t know what time it was anymore, and it didn’t matter because I wanted Lizzie to look at me forever the way she was right then.

  It wouldn’t last, though, not when I stumbled over myself and told her the truth. Maybe it’ll work. Maybe it can work. I chewed my bottom lip, debating where I could have stopped flirting with her and prevented our mutual heartbreak and also how I could keep her. Lizzie excited me; she made me smile effortlessly.

  “Noah,” she pressed. I wondered if she sensed my nerves. The wine bottle sat in her lap as she twisted it open, and I found myself wishing I could put my head there and nap, letting Lizzie comb through my hair, tickle my skin, and pretend the storm was simply a storm, the weather, and not reality threatening to tear whatever this rush we shared was.

  “My parents divorced when I was thirteen because my dad cheated on my mom, which meant I moved to another state in middle school.” She paused to swallow a swig from the wine bottle, her lips stained in a maroon that dribbled down the corner of her mouth. “I watched one of my best friends die three times in the last seven months, Noah. Life’s too short to pretend. It’s too short to wait. Tell me.”

  I pushed back my sleeves, twisting my forearms while I watched the mermaid and totem pole dance, reminding me of a past that always seemed present. With my fingertips tracing the ink, I replied.

  “Alaska’s beautiful, and the tattoo was to remember it all. That was the trip before two of us from my group of high school friends enlisted. It was a big deal, you know? Taking this guys’ trip, one with nature, the final frontier…literally…edge of our world, edge of our independence.”

  Lizzie’s eyes were downcast, studying Muffin or the floor. Hell if I knew, but she sure wasn’t looking at me. “En-enlist?” Her stammer pierced me.

  I felt her shiver, crippled with reality interrupting the flirting, the banter, the sexy as hell way Lizzie looked at me, texted me, the gorgeous way she was now smiling at me. Her blue eyes were narrowed, but it was more curious than accusatory. She baffled me. I was intrigued…and guilty. I didn’t think so deeply with Callie. She was meant to fill a hole after Jade died, and I now realized that’s why I might have overlooked so much with her…even though I’d hoped, longed for, love. Lizzie’s fingers hesitantly tightened around mine for a moment, dancing into the emptiness in my heart that craved this.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you might be gone tomorrow when we walked the first time?”

  I leaned forward, twisting my knuckles as my hands lay limply between my knees, dangling above my feet. I bit my lips as they rolled inward, my anxious way to buy time. “I didn’t know how far you’d take me,” I whispered, “and here we are…”

  “I would’ve proposed a lot sooner if I’d known.” She chuckled, and I looked up, watching her wipe a small tear from her right eye. “Where have you gone?”

  I dropped my head, looking at my feet, knotting my fingers once more. “Alaska. Germany. Japan.”

  “What do you do there?” I heard her swallow, regretting this conversation drove us to the wine so quickly. “You don’t fight, do you? You’re not going to be hurt…ever…right?”

  I limply fell back in the couch, turning my body to face Lizzie with my left arm extended toward her along the back of the cushions. Muffin snored softly, and Lizzie stared at me expectantly, her eyes brimming with hope, her fingers tightening around the wine bottle in her lap. I consumed her expression, devouring each freckle across her cheeks, each line of blue in her gaze, every soft wrinkle that painted her tightened eyes. I lifted my right hand to her face, gently tucking her blonde curls behind her ear, allowing my knuckles to graze her cheek and pause, absorbing her delicate skin.

  “No, Lizzie,” I lied, smiling to ease her angst. “I just don’t know when they’ll call me back. I’m not a soldier, but I’m trained. I’m a medic.”

  “That’s why you’re a paramedic here then,” she assumed, “because it’s what you do in the army?”

  “Sort of.” I dropped my hand, inhaling a shaky breath. I reached for the wine bottle. “May I?”

  The room flashed three consecutive times, a glow of white framing Lizzie and that moment in a halo. My life was private; every piece of it, every love I thought I’d found, every wound I’d felt, it was knotted inside for only me to know, but Lizzie’s breathing, her presence, her encouraging gaze, it was all so…cathartic. I swallowed from the bottle, letting the burn of wine trickle into my stomach. It warmed me, kicking me out of the darkness and into divulgence.

  “After Alaska, well, during Alaska…I had a friend from high school…she was my best friend, actually, and…we were young and stupid, but…in…” I bit my lip. There wasn’t an easy way to talk about Jade, especially not with Lizzie on my couch, tugging on my cuff. I swear she inched even closer to me. She did.

  Her fingertips slowly grazed my jaw, sending their wave of euphoria across my skin. “In love? That’s not stupid. Tell me about her.” She smiled at me, this woman who was quickly becoming more than a friend, more than the stranger who proposed to me because she liked my ink, more than the girl whose friend I helped save. She was becoming my friend, and that was the beginning of a chance at more I wanted to risk.

  I stood from the couch, placing the almost emptied wine bottle next to Muffin, who slept silently in the storm. I couldn’t believe it, considering he escaped and fled like a banshee, but maybe he’d worn himself out and was now in a coma. Crossing the room to my bookshelf, I scrolled through the spines in search of the Jane Austen novel with tattered pages and cracked binding. It was Jade’s and all I had left. I pulled it out, flipping through until my fingers stopped on the photograph I wanted to show Lizzie.

  “Just so you know,” I mumbled, steadying myself, “she’s in the past. It’s all in the past. I mean…she’s with me daily, but I’m not…”

  “Stop,” Lizzie whispered, her brows furrowed. “Let me see.”

  I handed Lizzie the picture, feeling incredibly vulnerable and not understanding why it felt so natural to expose this part of me to her, to someone new. Maybe it was because we shared trauma, her trauma, and that made it seem like a history had always been there.

  “Jade, me, Silas, and Joey.” I swallowed, their names still tough to say after all this time. “Silas and I are the only two…left. I couldn’t save Jade, and that’s why I needed to be someone who saves people.”

  “Was she abroad with you? When…”

  “No.”

  “Was she here? Like, a civilian? Like me?”

  My stare darted to Lizzie. “You’re not like her. You’re you.”

  I watched as Lizzie studied the photograph, her fingertips balancing the paper in her hand. It was a small, respectful gesture, but its weight slumped in my chest. I folded my legs on the floor and leaned against the couch next to Lizzie, balancing my left arm on the seat, continuing to look at the woman examining my past.

  “You know,” her voice cracked, and my eyes were on hers, “she’s beautiful. This is a really nice picture of you all. It makes me think…it reminds me of my friends.”

  Lizzie tightened her arms around her body, appearing so small within my sweatshirt. “You don’t ever need to tell me. I don’t need to know. I want to, if you want me to, but it’s your story.”

  I took the picture from Lizzie and placed it back in Jade’s book, letting the paperback rest on the couch, and returned to the p
resent. I squinted to see through the curtains behind Lizzie, watching the blossoms wiggle in the calming wind. “I think the rain stopped. Do you want to go for a walk?”

  ***

  I held the cup of coffee under my nose, hoping the caffeinated steam would perk me up before I burned my throat. I padded quietly around the kitchen, vision limited behind the haze of a sleepless night. A sharp pain seared my shoulders and my left ankle felt sore, but sleeping in a heap on the floor while Lizzie snored on my couch was worth it. I heard the tags on Muffin’s collar clink as a warning before his claws scratched across the living room and into the hallway where I now stood, staring out the front door to check damage from the storm. I didn’t look down at him when I opened the panel for his escape, but I followed him out and sipped the scalding coffee while he did his business and I tried to wake.

  I think we got maybe three hours of sleep, if that. The day was threatening to be damp; I could tell by the wall of humidity. I couldn’t enjoy my coffee as it refused to cool in the heat. Muffin was in no rush to get back inside, taking his sweet time sniffing everywhere instead of acting. I turned to peek through the window, catching a glimpse of the small lump of Lizzie’s feet on the couch, confirming she was still asleep.

  My sore ankle cracked when I walked to the steps, sitting on the top while Muffin growled at a woman jogging on the sidewalk. It was too hot for that, and I wanted to warn her about heat stroke, but I sipped my coffee instead. Heat tightened around my throat, warring with the small beads of sweat now trickling down my back. I set my coffee next to me and pulled off my short-sleeved shirt, using the fabric to wipe my stomach and face before hanging it around the back of my neck. With my forearms balancing on my knees, I whistled twice for Muffin.