Nothing More (Landon Gibson 1)

I reply, asking her where she went.

A few seconds pass and I don’t get a response, so I text Posey and leave my phone to charge for a little bit. I glance out into the living room and then go into the bathroom and close the door behind me. While I’m washing my hands, the door opens and Nora appears in the mirror.

Chapter Thirty

ISTARE INTO THE MIRROR for a few seconds, and Nora stares back at me.

She doesn’t move closer. She just stands in the doorway with her eyes on mine. Without looking away from her, I turn off the water and grab a towel to dry my hands. She must have been in Tessa’s room when I arrived.

“Hi,” Nora’s reflection says.

“Hi,” I repeat.

We seem to be saying this a lot today.

“What happened?” I ask. I had planned on waiting for her to volunteer the information, but I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out the question.

She takes a deep breath and I watch her chest rise and fall. I turn around and she takes a few steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind her.

When she approaches me, she seems subdued, not the same woman who was in my kitchen last night. Her hands are held in front of her, not clenching my sweatshirt. Her lips are pursed, not kissing me.

Nora’s hair is tied into a braid and resting over one shoulder. She’s not wearing any makeup and I notice a few freckles on her cheeks. Her eyes look tired, giving away that she hasn’t slept much. She’s wearing a white T-shirt, another one that hangs off of one shoulder, and black leggings. Her feet are covered in pizza-print socks. This is the second time I’ve seen her wear odd socks. I like them.

“I’m okay,” Nora says, and licks her lips.

I reach for her hand and pull her closer to me. She hesitates for a moment, then steps to me.

The trash bag full of clothes says otherwise, Nora.

“You don’t seem okay.” I raise my free hand and touch the end of her braid. Her eyelids fall closed.

“You can talk to me. You know that, don’t you?” I take my hand from her hair and lift up her chin, just slightly, so I can get a good look at her.

Tired-looking blue circles line the bottom of her almond- shaped eyes. They are puffy and my stomach aches at the thought that she’s been crying. I run the pad of my thumb over one of her closed eyes and her lips part.

Her eyelashes are so long that they remind me of the feathers on a bird.

A very, very pretty bird.

Oh, my mind is in a weird place.

She nods and I move my thumb back under her chin. Her eyes open, just enough for me to see that she’s hiding something.

Her voice is soft and she moves her face away from my touch when she says plainly, “I’m taking care of it.”

I take a step back, wanting to give her space, and she surprises me by grabbing my shirt and pulling me closer. She wraps her arms around my back and buries her head in my chest. She doesn’t cry; she just stands there, taking shallow breaths and not speaking.

I rub one hand up and down her back, letting her have the silence she seems to be wanting.

After a few more seconds, she raises her head and stares up at me.

I want to take care of you,my heart says. Then my mouth says the same.