Nora agreed to stay the night.
The whole way back to his apartment, Nolan waited for her to change her mind, to say she wanted to go home, that she was fine. But she kept her eyes trained, for the most part, either ahead or on her shoes. She didn't say a word.
However, as they turned off the sidewalk, into the parking lot, she stopped. "My face," she said. "How are we—how are we going to hide it?"
Her panic was hard to take. He thought back to that moment on the porch, just before her dad showed up. How could their night have ended like this?
He bit on the inside of his cheek. "Put your hair down," he murmured. She did—her fingers shook as she undid her braid.
Her hair curled over her shoulders. It hid part of the bruise, but the rest shone boldly, even with their only light being the porch light's soft glow. "Just stay behind me and keep your head down, okay?" he said.
She took his hand. They went inside.
"What are you going to tell them?" she asked, pausing at the foot of the stairs.
He hadn't thought that far. The promise he made thrashed around his stomach.
Nora's face whipped to the side as her dad's hand made contact. Over and over. Whip. Whip. Whip.
"Don't worry," he said. "Everything will be okay."
He started forward, but she tightened her grip on his hand. "You won't..."
"I won't."
She searched his face. "Okay," she said. After taking a preparing breath, she began up the steps. He frowned before following.
Greg was at the kitchen table when they crept inside. Nolan blocked Nora's face from view as Greg looked up, a taut frown giving way to confusion when he saw Nolan wasn't alone. "What...?"
"Nora's locked out of her house," he lied smoothly, guiding Nora through the room. "Her dad's on a business trip and won't be back for a few days. It cool if she stays with us until then?"
"Oh, uh, yeah, sure," Greg said. "Is everything—"
"All good."
"Thank you," Nora whispered as they hurried down the hall. The apartment was quiet—Caleb would be in bed by now.
Nolan opened his door and flicked on the light. A chaotic floor and an unmade bed greeted them. "I'll clean up in a sec," he promised. He yanked a shirt and a pair of pajama pants from his dresser.
"Thanks," she said. She accepted the clothes, a weak smile hovering on her lips. She wiped at her eyes.
He squeezed her hand. "I'll be right back."
She nodded, and he left, closing the door behind him.
Greg was exactly where he'd left him. He dropped into a free chair and wiped a hand across his face.
"You sure she's just locked out of the house?" Greg asked.
Nolan dropped his hand.
"You want to talk about it?"
Yes. "Not now."
Greg nodded. He toyed with a medium-sized floral box, lifting and shutting the lid with a soft clunk. At first, Nolan's mind was too full for him to realize what box his brother was holding. When it hit him, he tensed, his eyes flying upward.
"Where have you been working?"
He didn't answer.
"Don't bother lying to me," Greg said. "I know."
Nolan hesitated. "With Nora," he said. "She hired me to help her with a film project."
Another nod. Silence.
"I know you don't understand why I don't want you to get a job." Clunk.
Nolan picked at a crack in the tabletop.
"I know you want to help." Clunk.
Greg looked up, his eyes glazed with tears. His jaw worked back and forth. "When Mom and Dad died," he muttered, "I gave up a lot of things."
I know.
"And I wouldn't give up what I have with you and Caleb. You guys are everything, you know?" He sniffed. "But...I don't want you to have to grow up as fast as I did, Nolan. Mom and Dad would never..." He let out a shaky breath of air. Closed his eyes. A couple tears escaped.
Nolan grabbed Greg by the shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. Greg hugged back. "I understand," Nolan said.
Greg nodded.
"But," he continued, "Mom and Dad wouldn't be angry if I got a job."
Greg pulled away. He didn't answer, but waited for Nolan to continue. Listening.
"They were always suggesting places, remember?" he asked. "And Mom was always talking about how we had to work together and help each other out."
"That was to get us to stop arguing while shoveling the driveway."
"So?"
Greg smiled and shook his head.
"You love school," Nolan said.
"I know."
"You can't do school and all of these jobs by yourself."
"I know."
"Mom and Dad would want me to help you," Nolan said. "And I want to help you. Besides. The only thing that'll change with me having a job is that you get to quit the one you hate most."
Greg's eyebrows rose. "Really."
"Yeah."
It was quiet as Greg slouched forward; eyes closed. Time ticked on, and Nolan leaned forward, checking. Had Greg fallen asleep while struggling to come up with a reply?
"Okay," Greg murmured.
"Yeah?"
His eyes opened. "Yeah."
Nolan sucked in a deep breath, relishing in the new looseness in his chest. How long had that weight been sitting there?
He glanced over his shoulder. Nora would probably be finished changing by now. "I need to clean my room," he said, pushing away from the table. "You good?"
"Yeah," Greg said. "I'm good."
Nolan patted Greg's shoulder and started out of the kitchen. He had just reached the hall when Greg's voice stopped him.
"Nolan."
He turned.
"Is she okay?" Greg asked.
"No," he said.
Greg nodded. Nolan left.
✝
Nolan hefted a large pile of dirty laundry from the floor and teetered.
"You want help?" Nora asked. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her face propped up on one fist. She was smiling, laughter in her eyes, and he would have been more relieved had it not been for the overhead light showcasing the bruise for the harsh blow it had been.
"I'm fine," he said. He nearly tripped on an empty bowl.
A small laugh.
Her mood had been steadily brightening since he'd started cleaning his room. Apparently, his clumsy rush was entertaining. He couldn't imagine why.
He shoved his clothes into the hamper he barely ever used. By the time he was finished, it was bursting. He hoisted dishes and wrappers into his arms and peered over the tower of cups, bowls, and plates. The room was still cluttered, but good enough.
"I'll be back for some bedding, and then I'll g—"
"No." He stopped, and she fumbled with an attempt to elaborate. "I...can you...would you...?"
He waited.
"Can you stay?" she asked finally.
The fear—it had returned to her eyes. "Yeah," he said. "I'll get my sleeping bag."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah."
He dumped all of the dishes into the sink, tossed the trash into the trashcan, and changed into his pajamas. Then, he grabbed a sleeping bag and headed back to his bedroom.
Nora was already laying down when he entered. She watched silently as he unraveled his sleeping bag, snagged a pillow, and turned off the light. He inched back to his temporary bed, hands grappling for it in the darkness.
"Thank you," she murmured once he settled.
"No problem."
He stared up at the ceiling. He should try to sleep. But how was he supposed to do that?
He closed his eyes. Nora, through the window, her hand on her cheek. Her dad whipping his hand across her face.
His eyes opened.
Shifting sounded from his bed. "Nolan?"
"Yeah?"
"You...you said a few days."
He hesitated. "Yeah."
Quiet followed. He looked over, but her face, like much of his room, had melded into the darkness. Was she upset? She hadn't sounded mad, but who was to say she would actually agree to stay away from her house for more than one night? The thought of her going back there...
"I just...how will I hide it for that long?"
"Makeup?" he asked.
"I don't have..."
"I'll get you some."
She rolled over, finding him in the darkness. "I can't ask you to do that."
"Yes, you can," he said. "And you're not asking. I'm offering."
She reached out, and he took her hand in his. They laid there like that, neither speaking, until, gradually, her hand slackened in his and her breathing slowed. He waited until he was certain she was asleep before easing his hand back to his side.
He frowned at the ceiling. The night had worn him down to his bones, but he refused to shut his eyes.
What was he going to do?
You know what you have to do.
But how was he supposed to, when it had taken her so much strength to tell him in the first place? When her fear was so palpable?
But her fear was why he had to do it. He couldn't just sit there and let her get hurt because he was afraid to betray her trust.
Tears threatened. He pushed them back with the heels of his palms. Why didn't You save her from this? he demanded. Why did You let this happen?
Silence.
I don't get it. I really don't.
Nora's voice sliced through his head. "So, we have choices we have to make. Hurt this person, or help them? Sometimes, we choose wrong."
Isaac's smiling face flashed across his mind. His snarl tore through his head.
Why didn't You save her?
He dropped his hands. He did.
There was no explanation for the thought's origin. But...God had saved her. Nolan could have accepted the ride from Greg, or just nodded when Nora insisted she could walk. But a nagging feeling had told him to go with her. Yes, to spend more time with her and make sure she arrived home safely, but there had been a creeping suspicion, too—that something was wrong.
A tear slipped down his cheek. Is this why she sat at my table?
He flipped through the whole summer, scene by scene, searching for—and finding—the memories that were a result of an odd compulsion he couldn't quite explain.
Holy—
Help me help her, he said. Please. You got me here. Now what?
He waited, but the certainty that had crashed through the animosity didn't return.
He let out a soft breath of air, folded his hands together, and pressed them to his forehead.
I don't know how to do this, he began. Nora had said it was like a conversation. "Just talk to Him like He's sitting right next to you," she'd said. "'Cause, even though you can't see Him, He's right there, listening."
I don't know what to do, he continued. What should I do? I know I need to tell someone, but if I go to the cops...
His jumbled prayer dissipated, replaced with the image of a police officer at his front door. The image was impersonal. Cold.
She can't stay there, he started again. You know it. I need to know who can help me get her out.
Silence, again. He pressed his fists hard into his forehead. Waiting.
Come on. Please. Just help me figure this out. Help me keep her safe.
Nothing. Whatever gust of knowledge God had bestowed upon him was done for now. The room was quiet, excluding Nora's steady breathing and the occasional passing car.
He dropped his hands and rolled over, facing the bed. Nora's slumbering face was just visible above. She didn't seem to be in any pain, but he couldn't help but wonder if, like when she was awake, a nightmare lurked beneath the surface.
Where would she go? When child services—or whoever it would be—took her from the house. Would Nathan be able to take her? Or—Rachel.
But he had no idea where she lived, or how to contact her. Nora would, obviously, but red flags would arise if he suddenly showed interest in the aunt he'd only met a handful of times. And he wouldn't snoop through her phone. Who else would...?
Willow.
He bit his lip. Nora, tear-stained as she asked, "You promise?"
I'm sorry.
He crept out of his sleeping bag and snagged his phone from his jeans. It didn't take long to find Willow in his contacts, and he started to type.
Do you have Rachel's number? It's urgent.
Only a few seconds passed before the reply came. No...what's going on?
He hesitated. Apparently, for too long. His phone's default ring tone blared, and he cursed, fumbling to press the Accept button. "Hello?" he whispered. He cast an anxious glance toward his bed. Nora hadn't budged.
"What's going on?" Willow demanded; her regular tone was unbearably loud in the deep quiet.
"Hold on." He edged out of the room. Thankfully, Greg went to bed early, so the hall was dark. He crossed into the living room.
"Nolan—"
"Nora's sleeping," he said.
"Where are you?"
"My apartment."
"What happened? Is she okay?"
He gnawed on his cheek. He had to tell Willow something. She was too smart to fall for a lame excuse, and, unlike Greg, she wouldn't wait until he was ready to explain before she demanded answers.
"No," he said. "She was hurt."
"What? How? Does she need to go to the hospital?"
"No," he said. "I don't think so, anyway."
"What the hell does that mean, Nolan?"
He sighed. He was too exhausted to struggle with the details. "Look," he said. "Nora was hurt, and that's all I can say right now. But I need to talk to Rachel. I know you don't have her number, but do you know where she lives?"
"Why can't you tell me?"
"She asked me not to."
"What?"
"She's protecting someone," he said. "Do you know where Rachel lives?"
Silence.
"Willow?" he pressed.
"It's..." Willow faltered. "It's...not what I'm thinking, is it?"
He paused. "I'm guessing it is."
She cursed. "My dad and I will pick you up in the morning. And I know Nora asked you to keep it quiet, but you're going to tell me everything. Understand?"
He did.