Noah (5 page)

"That’s kinda how it feels." I shrugged and dumped a drawer of silverware into the box. "Look." I paused and faced her fully. "Almost my entire family is gone. How I deal with that is my business, and if getting your shit out of my home helps, then that’s what I'm gonna do. Are we clear on that?"

She averted her gaze and wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Noah," she whispered. "I want to be here for you. I'm not a bad person, and I
know
you."

My phone buzzed with Daniel's response as I answered Emma. "I never said you were a bad person, but what you did?" I shook my head. "I wasn't built to forgive that kind of betrayal."

Daniel told me he was sending a guy over from an agency right away, so I thanked him and then continued packing.

Emma was quiet as she took over packing in the kitchen. Not wanting to be too close to her, I moved on to the dining area. I grabbed my toolbox and began dissembling the dining room table.

I'd fucked her on that once.

As the boxes piled up, I knew it wasn't about getting rid of the shit she'd bought. It was about getting rid of anything that came with memories of her.

"I still love you," she said, sniffling.

By now, I'd moved on to decorations and photos on the walls. "It'll pass in time." Christ, I fucking hoped it would. "There's no room for this in my life now. I need you to get that through your skull. I wanna be alone." 

She started crying.

The more emotional and pleading she got, the more detached I became.

It made it easier to breathe. Fuck emotions.

*

Twenty minutes before the movers were due to arrive, we'd gotten a lot accomplished, and I'd done a decent job of not thinking too much about my family. Actually, Emma had made it easy because she made everything about her.

My new PA, Nicky, had stopped by to introduce himself and get the list of items I wanted, and I'd given him the keys to my truck before he'd left again. I'd been where he was. PAs made a shit salary—on film sets, it was sometimes nothing—so I reckoned free transportation would go a long way.

"Do you want the bed?" Emma asked dully.

She'd finally given up on me taking her back.

"No." I wiped some sweat off my forehead and looked out over the emptied living room. The hall outside the loft was packed, and only a few shelves with my stuff remained.

I wasn't stupid. By the time Emma had understood I wasn't changing my mind, she'd gotten greedier. There was plenty of shit she'd probably sell, 'cause God forbid she get a goddamn job. But I didn't care. She could take it and shove it up her ass.

"You don't know how hard this has been for me," she said.

I chuckled darkly, and I wasn't touching that one.

"I'm serious," she cried. "I'm thirty-seven and back to living with my
mother
. It's humiliating."

"I don't think it's wise we discuss what's humiliating," I warned her with a pointed look. "Are you honestly whining about living with your mother right after I've lost mine?"

She paled, realizing the situation, though she pushed on with her own agenda. "You can't hold that against me. I'm very sorry you lost your family, but that doesn't make my problems any smaller. It's unfair that I'm the only bad guy here—"

"Stop talking, Emma." The movers were here, and I walked over to the door to buzz them in. "I never claimed to be perfect. I've probably made plenty of mistakes, but I would never fucking step out on you. A relationship is sacred to me, and to learn four years later that you don't feel the same… It makes any other issue useless to argue. 'Cause, no matter what, I didn't push you to betray me." I leveled her with a look that said I was fucking through. "We're done for good. I mean it."

She clenched her jaw. "You're heartless."

Fuck you.

I opened the door for her. "Goodbye, Emma."

Chapter 5

Two weeks later

I stared at the remote.

I was on the mattress in front of the flat screen in the living room.

The remote was on the floor.

I couldn't reach it.

Maybe I didn't need to change the channel.

A knock on the door made me throw the covers over my head.

Go away
.

"Noah?" It was Sophie. No surprise. "I know you're in there."

Well, of course I was. Where else would I be? I hadn't left my loft in ages. No one judged me for being a fucking coward here. No side-eyeing for every bottle I drained. Although, I could imagine the looks my family would give me.

I flinched and closed my eyes.

Too fucking bad you're all dead
.

After a week of hiding, I had tried to get up and live. I had showered, shaved, used deodorant, and put on clothes to go out and buy groceries on my own for once. But then I'd checked my phone and saw they'd found out why the plane had gone down.

They'd located and dug out the flight data recorder and learned the pilots had been dealing with a mechanical error.

By the time they’d started the decline, they hadn't fixed it yet, and then they'd flown into a thunderstorm, counting on backup systems to guide them safely to the ground.

It had been one hell of a drop. And I had retreated to my bed and the nearest bottle.

I had nightmares of JJ and Linda screaming. The plane had been filled with families.

"We're hitting the road, sweetie," Sophie said. "Please let me know you're at least breathing."

Hit with guilt, I pushed away the covers and reached for my phone. A text would have to suffice 'cause I looked like shit and hadn't showered in…way too long.

I'm fine, just exhausted. Enjoy the holiday. Give the kids a smooch from me.

I heard the chirp of Sophie's phone and could imagine her sigh that followed.

"You have the keys to our place," she said. "There are leftovers in the freezer. I don't know what it is Nicky drops off, but I doubt it's good for you."

Nicky—what a godsend. I tipped him well for bringing me microwave dinners and alcohol a couple times a week.

He'd also arranged for my new bed to be delivered. All that was missing was a bed frame, and I didn't care enough to pick one out. I'd just placed it where the couch used to be, and it was my haven.

I didn't like leaving it.

Rolling over to bury my face in the pillow, I came to the reluctant conclusion I wouldn’t have a choice but to leave it soon. The pillowcase reeked, and if I could smell it while living in the filth, it had to be bad.

*

It took me hours to talk myself into getting outta bed. But eventually, I got up and threw the sheets and pillowcases in the washer. Then I suffered through a shower, brushed my teeth, said
fuck it
to shaving, and pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt.

In the living room, I opened a window and threw away some paper plates and plastic forks and knives. I'd have to buy some fucking silverware at some point.

I killed some time playing ridiculous games on my phone that Linda had liked to compete with me at, and then I tossed the laundry into the dryer. In forty minutes, I'd be back under the covers.

"Food," I muttered.

I was running low on microwaveables, and the real groceries Nicky had bought the first day were going bad. But I had milk and cereal, so I went with that.

Happy fuckin' Fourth of July.

Technically, it wasn't for another three days, but I didn't see anything changing in that time.

When the doorbell rang, I frowned. Tennyson and Sophie had packed up the kids and their youngest pup and were probably nearing San Francisco at this point, and Daniel and Zane lived in New York.

Brooklyn, maybe?

While Tennyson and Sophie wanted a road trip along the coast and quality time with the family, Brooklyn and Asher were flying up with their two daughters. They all owned a beach house in Vancouver with Tennyson and Asher's folks. I'd been there, and I'd been invited this year too, but spending that day with people who were happy and in love…? Fuck no.

I'd ruin their whole vacation with my misery.

I shoved a spoonful of milk and Froot Loops into my mouth and headed for the hallway. The spoon was still in my mouth when I looked through the peephole, shocked to see Julian standing there. Opening the door, I raised my brows and let him in.

I removed the spoon. "This is a surprise, kid."

A good one, it felt like.

He passed me, head down, and dropped a bag and a guitar case on the hallway floor. "It wouldn’t have been a surprise if you'd checked your email. I called you three times last week, too."

Fuck. I was failing at this uncle gig.

"Then I called Daniel yesterday." He cleared his throat and fidgeted with a loose thread in his ratty hoodie. "He and Sophie gave me their numbers after the memorial service, so…" Sounded like something they'd do. Both of them were caregivers. "He suggested I fly out and kick your door in. I don't think he was joking."

I snorted and jerked my chin for him to follow me. "No, they're all a bunch of worriers. How did you get into the building?"

"Someone was leaving when I arrived." He shrugged and took in the empty loft. When I said empty, I meant there was nothing in the large space aside from the bed, the flat screen on the wall, and a couple boxes of photo albums. "Did you just move in?"

"No." I set the bowl in the sink and then turned around, hopping up to sit on the counter. "I broke up with my girlfriend and wanted to get rid of everything." I rubbed the back of my neck, a bit embarrassed. With Julian here, my failure at being an adult shone brighter than the sun.

"A fresh start." He nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Kind of why I'm here, I guess. If you don't mind. I mean, I'll look for my own place, but I can't stay with Grandma and Grandpa anymore, and I don't want to go home."

"Stay as long as you want, Julian." It was honest. I had to get my shit together, and maybe if I had someone with me, like back when I had roommates, I wouldn't be a walking train wreck anymore. "Pick a room. The one farthest down the hall is my new study, which is a nice way of putting it. It's more of a room I just threw my personal shit in." I had some awards, my college diploma, photos, and framed scripts of projects I'd been involved with that I treasured. "Anyway, there are two other rooms—both emptier than California's water supply."

Which reminded me, now I really had to get some furniture. The energy to do it remained completely fucking dead, but a sense of responsibility rose in me. I was a pathetic motherfucker these days, though if I could succeed at being an uncle, it could lead to more. Like eating better, going back to work…

"Where do you sleep?" he asked, a crease forming in his forehead.

I nodded at the bed.

"Ah."

Yeah…

This was probably not what he'd expected.

"Pick a room and leave your stuff there," I told him, getting down from the counter again. "I'll change the sheets, and then we can order some shit you'll need."

He nodded and disappeared down the hall.

Looking down in the sink, I cringed before I followed him to get to the laundry room. Frat kids lived better. So… No more reusing Styrofoam bowls from Panera. No more
sporks
.

After making my bed smell fresh and clean again, I picked up my laptop from the floor and sat down. Julian joined me and sat down too, and I didn't like how cautious he seemed to be around me. I was the
fun
uncle, goddammit. Linda and JJ had always gotten a kick outta the crap I taught them.

But Julian didn't know me very well.

Hell, right now,
I
didn't know me very well.

I was getting a headache. I'd accomplished so little in the past couple of weeks that doing laundry, showering, and exchanging a few words with my nephew exhausted me.

"You want a drink?" I asked as the idea struck me. Because, fucking hell, I needed one. "You find a site—actually, Danny's got a deal with Pottery Barn. They'll deliver first thing in the morning if we go through him."

"Um, all right."

He took the laptop, and I stalked to the kitchen. Once there, I was hit with regret. Booze had been my go-to for too long now, and encouraging Julian to chug whiskey the way I'd been doing probably wasn't wise.

I hung my head. I wasn't ready to be around people, despite the fact that I usually thrived in social settings.

I had to, though. Nobody was gonna make me climb out of this hellhole. I had to force myself, and now was the time.

My fridge lacked a lot of things, but Nicky had done well when buying alcohol, and I had ingredients to make drinks that didn't scream of grief and depression.

Keeping it simple, I poured ice into two Solo cups and mixed us some 7 and 7. I topped them off with lime and then returned to Julian. I could do this. I could shoulder responsibility and be there.

"What's this?" He sniffed his drink before taking a sip. "Okay, this will work." He kinda smiled a bit there.

Thank fuck. I did something right.

"All right, so go nuts," I told him and grabbed my wallet. "I don't care what you pick. You're actually doing me a favor."

"How so?" He scrolled down a page with mattresses.

I went with honesty. That way, he wouldn’t be too surprised when I fucked up.

"I don't have my life together." I placed a credit card next to him. "I'm glad you're here, and I'll do my best to make sure you feel at home, but most of the time, I'm the living dead. I channel surf, get wasted, go through photos, and pass out. Rinse and repeat. Decorating my home isn't exactly a priority."

Felt good getting that off my chest.

"I'm not looking for a parent," he responded quietly. "The reason I came here is because I think…I think you might understand." He kept staring at the screen, though I doubted he was perusing right now. "Grandma cries whenever she sees me, and Grandpa's got enough on his plate with her and dealing with Dad's work stuff."

Damn. I remembered wondering if James's parents could really be there for Julian now, and I guessed they couldn’t.

"I figured, with me being here…" He cleared his throat and clicked on a bed. "I won't have to pretend everything's okay."

Fuck no, he didn't.

"No pretending," I agreed. "And no pity looks, since we're going through the same shit."

"Exactly." He released a breath, meeting my gaze briefly, and I detected relief there. "So I can stay?"

"Long as you like," I promised.

*

"Just press the damn button, Julian."

"It's an awful lot of money…"

"Jesus Christ." I finished my drink and then leaned over to complete the purchase myself. "Money's the only thing I don't have to worry about. There. The loft will soon look like a real home again."

We'd set my credit card on fire, and in between whiskey drinks and adding things to the cart, I'd learned a bit about Julian. He was methodical and picked items after great consideration, and rushed decisions seemed to make him fret. It was sweet.

Our pseudo family roles to each other made him the kid, but there was no denying he was a smart young man. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was smarter than me.

"What about tonight?" He glanced apprehensively at the bed we sat on. "Do…do we share?"

I smirked wryly.

"Have you never fallen asleep on a couch with a buddy?" I stood up to refill our drinks. "I don't bite and it's a big bed. One night won't kill us."

I was tired as fuck—Christ, nowadays I woke up exhausted—but the alcohol and the company had improved my day. And it was nice that we didn't have to pretend. It kinda made Julian the optimal roommate for me. Because even though I didn't have to hide my grief from my buddies, nobody liked the one who was always down in the dumps.

Or the one aiming straight for alcoholism.

Despite the two-week bender Julian had evidently been on after the crash, I had a hunch he didn't really drink. He seemed inexperienced around it, so I decided it was time to introduce him to a favorite of mine. Jameson, ginger ale, and a lime wedge. I licked some juice off my thumb and carried the cups over to the bed, handing him his.

"Mia was the bartender in the family, but I think you'll like this."

He sniffed it as usual and raised a brow. "Mom worked in bars?"

"It was how she put herself through college." I dipped my chin and went for the laptop. "I did it briefly when I first moved out here, but she was a natural."

He sipped it slowly then nodded to himself, approving. "Don't you get hungry?"

Oh, right. Food.

Cooking used to be a passion. That had disappeared, too.

"Top drawer next to the fridge," I said as I went to Best Buy's website. "It's where I keep all the takeout menus. Order whatever you want and get me something vegetarian. I'm not picky."