The Truth About Lennon
Mikey smiles. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Lennon.”
“Lennon. That’s an interesting name.”
I wait for him to ask me if I was named after John Lennon, because that’s what everyone asks. But he doesn’t, and I’m grateful. It’s awkward telling people your mother has an unhealthy obsession with the Beatles.
Instead he says, “Well, Lennon, we’re taking Noah to Heaven Memorial if you, you know—” He shrugs. “—want to check on him later.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
Mikey nods, patting my shoulder before climbing into the ambulance and whisking Noah away. Seconds later, the police officer shows up.
Several questions, a not-so-well-drawn diagram of the accident, and one warning later, I find myself back in the car, winding through the streets of Heaven. I flick my blinker on when the navigation instructs me to turn left. Only instead of turning left, I turn right, following the small blue signs until I pull up in front of Heaven Memorial Hospital.
Turn around, I tell myself.
Of course I don’t listen. I’m too damn stubborn for that.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m looking for Noah Cunningham. He was brought in by ambulance a little while ago.”
The woman looks me over and she smiles, but it isn’t as friendly as it should be. “Are you family?”
“Um…” I shake my head. “No.” Her smile fades, and I quickly improvise because I know that look. If I’m not family, she won’t let me back there to see him. “Not yet, at least,” I say, mustering up as much conviction as I can. “I’m his fiancée.”
Oh shit. I can’t believe I just said that.
Too late now.
That makes her frown. “Noah doesn’t have a fiancée.”
“How do you know?”
Narrowing her eyes, the woman stands behind her desk. “I grew up with Noah. Our brothers are friends. I think I’d know if he was dating, let alone engaged,” she says—a bit too defensively, if you ask me.
Does this woman have a thing for Noah? A hint of jealousy sparks in my veins, surprising me.
“I assure you he does,” I say with just as much bite, because as it turns out, I have a thing for him too.
The bitch crosses her arms over her chest. “Where’s your ring?”
“I didn’t put it on this morning. What are you, the engagement police?” Not the cleverest thing to say, I know, but it’s the best I could come up with.
Lips pressed firmly together, the woman glares. If looks could kill I’d be dead, buried, and forgotten about. I glance at the woman’s name tag before meeting her death stare head on.
“Now I get it,” I say, snapping my fingers as though I should’ve recognized her sooner. “You’re Penny.”
Penny’s scowl turns into more of a frown.
“Noah told me all about you.”
As expected, this perks her up. “He did?” She quickly realizes her mistake. “I mean, of course he did.”
“There you are, Lennon!”
I turn to see Mikey, the guy from the ambulance, walking toward us. If the look on his face is any indication, he caught some—if not all—of my little white lie.