I watch as he pulls out of the driveway. I lift my hand, wave, then drop it once he’s gone. I take a breath. Then I turn to face the house and start up the steps.
What’s Noah going to say when he sees me? Will he tell me to leave? What if he does? What then?
I picture Mom’s disappointment if I show back up at home. But I can’t force him. Not if he really doesn’t want me here.
I knock, but there’s no answer.
Noah didn’t mention going to work. I don’t think he’s even gone back yet. How long do doctors get off for grief? A week? Two? I start to think maybe I should call him, check if he’s stepped out for something quick, when the door creaks open.
For a second, it’s eerie, like it opened on its own. Then I glance down and meet a pair of green eyes and a serious little face.
“Willi
