Before the Morning [BEING EDITED]

18 | Breakfast

"Are you sure this is okay?"

Nora sat cross-legged on Nolan's bed, fingers digging into his sheets. Her eyes, wide, sad, and guilty, hurt him in a way he didn't understand.

He nodded. He should say something, but what did you say to someone who had just spent the last twenty minutes crying and was now about to sleep in your bed? "Night," he said.

That, apparently.

"Night," she replied, giving him a small smile. Forced? He wasn't sure.

He nodded again and, after kicking away some of the clutter and picking up odds and ends to bring out to the kitchen or throw away, he started toward his door. He'd just managed to wrap his fingers around the handle when her voice stopped him, hesitant and soft, "Nolan?"

He turned. Her eyes had watered again, her lips trembling. His stomach squeezed. Nora.

He dropped the crap unceremoniously on the floor and crossed the room, back to the bed. As he sat, she dropped her head on his shoulder, the tears returning full force. His arms automatically lifted to wrap themselves around her. He was thankful they knew what to do, because he sure as hell didn't.

"I miss her," she cried.

Her mom.

"I miss her so much."

"It's okay," he murmured, but of course it wasn't okay.

What did her dad do?

"I'm sorry," Nora said, pulling away and wiping her eyes. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing," he said.

"What?"

He wiped a tear from her eye. "There's nothing wrong with you."

She smiled. He smiled back.

"Thank you, but you're totally wrong," she said with a small laugh. She playfully punched his shoulder and wiped her eyes. "Ah, okay, I'm really done this time. I'll leave you alone."

"I don't mind."

Her smile grew. "Thanks, but I'm okay. Really."

He searched her face. "Okay," he said softly. "If you need me..."

"I'll find you."

✝

"Nolan Alexander Haynes, get out of bed before I dump cold water all over your face!"

Nolan groaned and rolled over, stuffing his pillow over his head to block out the sound of his mom's shouts. She was serious—she'd proven so on more than one occasion—but he was too tired to move.

Granted, staying up past midnight playing Uncharted 4 probably wasn't the best decision he'd ever made, but, hey. The game was addictive.

He wondered if he could fake an illness.

"I'm getting the—"

"I'm up!" he called, not moving. He'd bought himself a few more minutes, at least.

A knock forced his eyes open. "I told you I'm—"

He rolled over, and faltered. It wasn't his mom standing there. It was Nora. "I don't want to go home," she said.

His eyebrows creased. She was crying. Why was she crying?

"What are you doing?"

His eyes popped open and swiftly shut, unable to handle the bright morning sunlight peeking through the living room window. It was too early, that was obvious. But he couldn't go back to sleep. Already, a sick feeling was coiling inside him, a side effect from whenever he dreamed about his parents and woke up, only to remember they weren't there. They weren't anywhere.