Page 40 of A Lifetime of Afters
“Ew,” I smacked him. “Grow up!”
“Me?” He released my head and cupped my face in his hands as he took his first good look at me. “You started it.”
“I started it? Really?” I asked softly as I studied him right back. “Want to call Dad and tell on me?”
Pulling me in for a hug, he grumbled, “What good would it do? He always took your side.”
I snorted out an unladylike laugh as his arms tightened around me.
“It’s good to see you.”
I wrapped my arms over his heavy coat, lay my head on his big chest, and sighed. “It’s good to be seen.”
After a moment, he broke the silence. “You going to make me a snack?”
Thankfully, some things never changed. “I can do that.” Turning to go into the kitchen while he ditched his coat, I rhymed off the tastier contents of my fridge.
We debated the merits of each as he pulled up a stool to the breakfast bar and finally settled on taquitos.
I puttered around the kitchen, choosing glasses, getting drinks, taking down plates, and pondered the wisdom of opening some of my boxes. Using my own things.
Not that my things were anything to write home about. I mentally shrugged. I could buy new things. Things that made me happy when I looked at them. What would I buy?
I pictured warmly familiar patterns and glassware. Things that were packed in other boxes, boxes Dad packed up after Mom passed. The things she insisted be set aside for me.
After all this time, I wanted them.
“Noelle?”
My head snapped up. “What? Sorry! Got lost in my thoughts.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Mom’s dishes,” I admitted.
“You finally going to take them?” he challenged.
“Thinking about it. Why does it bother you so much?” I’d never understood the way he reacted when I moved, and he never explained.
“Because when you left, you left everything except your car, your clothes, and a few pictures. You brought nothing of home. Nothing of Mom. Nothing of Dad. Or me. I honestly thought you were leaving us behind. I worried we wouldn’t even hear from you; you were such a mess.”
His words sent me back to that dark time when the growing pile of losses whittled away at my ability to cope.
It appeared he wasn’t the only one who had never explained. “I think,” I began carefully, “the pain of losing Mom, seeing Dad fall apart,” I swallowed hard as the memories kicked off hard and rose to the surface, “seeing you the way you were, it just hurt too much. I couldn’t tolerate it.”
That and the risk of running into Hawk with Diane every time they came into town. I wondered when he built his house. Was it possible she was old news by then?
“You stayed away for almost ten years. You rarely came home. Was there any other reason? Anything I should know about?”
“What?” I exclaimed, my heart skittering. “What do you mean?”
“Did someone hurt you?” He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. “Did a man touch you? Hurt you?”
“What? No! My God, Max! I’m so sorry you thought that!”
He waved a hand. “It was just one of many theories.”
“Well, now you know. No longer any reason to theorize,” I chirped.
