Page 96 of Spell Ya Later

Special Delivery

My hands shake as I walk up the steps to Noah’s apartment, clutching the parcel. It took Ash one week to craft the special minis I made of us. I can just see them on his shelf with hisWarhammerminis.

But these would be different. Ours.

I also found a woman who makes custom paint at the market and bought some, to include in case he wants to paint them. I tried not to go overboard and buy him every color she offered, but the box is relatively heavy.

The scent of bergamot and old books tickles my nose as I approach his door. Noah.

Tears spring to my eyes, the heat of despair threatening to pull me under and I haven’t even seen him.

I don’t plan to.

Noah said he needed time, and I refuse to push him before he’s ready. He deserves his boundaries, and he deserves his space.

If I’ve learned anything in these past few months on my own, it’s that boundaries are important. I need them with Laura—I can’t be her surrogate mother anymore—and I need to respectwhen someone puts them up with me. Even if the weight of anxiety pulls on me so hard at night I cry myself to sleep.

Despite that, he also deserves to know that he’s loved and that I’m still here. It’s a gesture, a small thing to let him know that the door is open when he’s ready to walk through it.

I deposit the box—which includes the first drawing I ever made of his eyes before I knew him—on the welcome mat and turn.

I love you, Noah.

“He’ll come around.”

I jump at the distinctly male voice. I turn to see Benji standing there with a grocery bag and a sheepish smile.

I put a hand on my galloping heart. “Benji, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.”

He shrugs, the paper bag rustling in his hand. “I have that effect. Noah calls me Spider-Man.”

“He never mentioned that.” A small chuckle escapes me. “It sounds like him, though.”

“He will come around, Hazel. I’m not sure exactly what happened between you—he’s being uncharacteristically vague about the whole thing—but I know he loves you. I’ve never seen him like this, and I don’t think he’s stupid enough to give it up.”

The tears that never really went away drip down my cheeks. “It was my fault.”

“Regardless.” His smile is genuine. “From how he talks about you, I’d be surprised if whatever you did was malicious. People make mistakes. Part of loving someone is knowing that they will inevitably hurt you by accident. No one is perfect, and he never expected perfection from you. That doesn’t mean we don’t need a moment alone to process our emotions, but it also means we don’t give up.”

Love has never been explained that way to me. A small flicker of hope ignites in my chest.

“Tell him I love him? And—” I turn and pick up the box “—make sure he gets this.”

Benji nods and takes the box in his other hand. “It’ll be fine. And we’ll spend more time together, too. We’re family now.”

The days meldtogether until a full week has passed. I spend my time working in the shop, painting, and trying to be more of a sister to Laura than the parent I was forced into being.

She refuses to discuss a funeral, just keeps saying that it’s not time. Grandma insists on not pushing her, but I worry that she’s sitting in her grief or hasn’t accepted what happened.

Mom is gone, and there’s nothing that can be done to change that.

It’s two against one though, and I won’t bulldoze everyone with how I think things should be. I won’t be Mom.

Two knocks rap on the door and Laura pokes her head in. “Drawing?”

I nod, looking up from my sketch. “Trying something new.”

“You should come downstairs. Something came for you.” She slips back out just as quickly as she appeared. Laura hasn’t lingered lately.