Take Me Tomorrow

Chapter 19: Stop This Now

When he didn't elaborate, I dug my nails into his arm. "What do you mean, Noah?"

His hoarse breath escaped him. "When Broden got hurt," he paused, "two years ago." He didn't have to remind me of the time. Broden almost died.

"I'm the one who dropped him off," Noah said.

Broden hadn't been dropped off. He was left on the pavement.

Now, I knew I was the one shaking. I stood up and grabbed the rail to keep my balance. "Why?" I managed. "Why would you leave him there?"

His eyes shot up to mine, his gaze soft. "We were running, to the train," Noah said, explaining something I hadn't considered. The day Broden almost died was the same day Noah's brother had died.

Noah never looked away. "Liam was lucky enough to get him out of Phelps' hands."

My heart dropped. "Phelps?"

"Who else do you think beat him up?" Noah asked. When he looked at my face, he chuckled. "He wasn't in a fight over drugs. Tomo dealers don't care about money. They want freedom." He was more aware of the excuse Broden had used than I was. "Phelps needed my family, and he knew Broden was the only way he'd find us."

"And he got you," I finished.

Noah nodded. "Liam slipped up when he got him out of the holding cell. That's why we had to run early. That's why our plan—" he paused. "It's my fault it didn't work, and now Tony got his hands on him, too."

His cousin had beat Broden this previous time, but Phelps hurt him the first time. I knew that now. Noah hadn't inflicted pain on anyone. Not directly.

"Broden never gives in," he said, leaning his face against the railing. "I'd be dead if he did. My entire family would be." His eyes moved over me. "But you're the only person who could be there for him." He pulled something out of his jacket. "I watched you sit with him all night." He pointed to his head, but his hand remained curled. "The hair. I told you I should've recognized it." When he lifted his hand to his mouth, he muttered, "Ibuprofen."

My mind raced. "I thought you fled," I said. "How could you have watched us?"

"I didn't see you," he sighed. "I saw you." He emphasized the word, and I knew he was talking about the tomo he was on, even as a preteen. "I saw my future coming, and I did nothing to stop it," he said. "I let it happen."

"But—"

"But," he repeated, flicking his hand in the air, "I will now. I can stop this now."

I didn't like his tone. It was the way it hung in the air. It was the way his lips moved to the side. It was the way his body didn't move. He was planning an attack.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"That's the million-dollar question," he responded, avoiding a direct response. "That's what I'm going to do."

"You aren't making any sense."

"I don't have to," he said, and then his eyes flashed.

He didn't take Ibuprofen. He consumed tomo, and he wasn't trying to hide it anymore.

I shot forward, but he saw it coming. He moved to the side, grabbed my arm, and swung me into an embrace.

"Noah—"

"I'm going to fix this," he said, sounding delighted as his hand threaded through my hair. "You have nothing to worry about."

I pushed myself away, hopping down the stairs to keep myself from falling backward. He watched me without any sense of concern. He knew I wouldn't fall. He knew more than that. He knew what would happen tonight.

"Why do you take it?" I asked, trying not to scream at him. "Why do you have to take it?"

"I don't have to," he said, taking the stairs down one by one, until he stood inches in front of me. "I want to. I like to." He paused, his gaze flicking down to my lips, and then he turned away. He closed his eyes. "You wouldn't understand." With that, he walked to the front door, but hesitated to open it. "Someone like me has to take it."

"Someone like you?" I repeated.

"Someone like me," he echoed, then opened the door. The night air rushed inside, carrying the heavy scent of oak trees after they roasted beneath the summer sun all day. They were waiting for winter. "Someone who doesn't know if tomorrow will come would rather live every day twice than live it once."

"No one knows if tomorrow is coming," I argued, but he stepped outside.

He stretched his arms above his head, and his back rose as he sucked in a deep breath. "Tomorrow can take me," he said. "I don't need today anyway."

And then, he was gone.