Take Me Tomorrow

Chapter 26: The Broken Pieces

"How are we going to get inside?" I asked.

"The front door. How else?"

With that, he bounded up the driveway. My veins surged will panic.

"You cannot be serious," I said, but he continued on.

I ran after him as he jumped over the front steps, a habit obviously reminiscent of his childhood. It struck me, then. That he had lived here. Been close this whole time. And that he was never supposed to return.

As if it had hit him at the same time, Noah halted. Standing in front of the door, he laid his palm on the blue wood. His fingers curled against the paint. A heavy breath escaped his lips. He looked like a boy who had realized his illusion was real.

"I don't see why not," he finally said.

I glanced to our left and right, searching the quiet neighborhood and seeing nothing.

Noah kept his stare on the door. "If Tony set us up, they already know we're here. If he's not, we're fine."

"But your neighbors—"

His hand dropped to his side. "You really think we lived around Phelps' lovers?"

Once more, I took in the identical houses that surrounded us in the small cul-de-sac. Of course they had been a part of Tomery's plan. Nothing as simple as neighbors would have prevented the creation of the drug that began a war.

Noah fiddled with the handle. The door was locked. "There are tunnels, Sophie," he added. "A lot of tunnels with a lot of people keeping them hidden and safe."

Shivers ran up my spine. "Why didn't we take those?"

"They aren't necessary." He twisted the doorknob to the right until it clicked. That's when he pulled—hard—and it shot out. A slit shaped like a circle appeared out of a wooden panel. Noah detached his silver watch, turned it over, and placed it inside. The panel turned. He reached over and turned the knob as if it had always been unlocked.

"What else can you do with that watch?" I asked.

"You'd be amazed what a man can do with a great watch." Noah winked.

Heat rushed over my face, but he hadn't seen my blush. He had already turned toward the door. When he pushed it open, he swung out his arm in a grand gesture. "Ladies first," he said. He was glowing.

For the first time, I truly felt like we were two teenagers hanging out. Not two teenagers running from the law. For that moment, I wanted to forget. I wanted to return to a normal world and pretend that Noah's last name didn't mean he was involved with a practical drug lord. Hell, I wanted to forget that Noah was addicted to tomo, but I couldn't. Not one part of me could pretend.

I stepped inside, avoiding eye contact, and searched the house. Portraits of landscapes covered the walls, and miniature statues decorated the halls. In one corner, a grand piano lingered in dusty silence. A cello leaned against the wall behind it. White carpet spread across the living room floor where two couches, one longer than the other, waited. A television hung on the far wall, and empty water glasses sat on a coffee table in the middle of the room. Nothing was covered. The windows weren't boarded up. The floors weren't falling apart. Next to me, a staircase spiraled upstairs, showing no signs of damage. In fact, the house looked as if it were waiting for the family to return home from an evening out.

The front door closed, and a gust of humid air pushed past me. I turned around to face a dazed Noah. He glanced around, seemingly lost in his memories, and his chest fell as he sighed, "Looks the same."