“But you were his son, Noah. He just gave up on you?” she asked in dismay.
He shook his head. “It’s not as harsh as it seems, Lib. He stopped trying to discipline me for my grades and behavior in school. He still loved me; he just gave more attention to Josh. And really, it ended up being a good thing. My mother was much less heavy-handed and it made all of us closer in a way.”
“It’s just not right, Noah.”
He squeezed her hand. “Maybe you’re right, because even though we got along better after he took a hands-off approach, I was still jealous of what he and Josh had. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, but part of me still craved my dad’s attention and approval.”
“Of course you did.”
“When I was properly medicated—and trust me, it’s hard to properly medicate a teenage boy—I could finally focus on my work and I discovered I was really good at math . . . at a near-genius level. It helped that all my math classes in high school were in the beginning of the day, when I was good and dosed. By the time we figured out I would graduate early, my father took notice. Craving his attention, I told him I had decided to major in engineering. Just like him.”
“Did that make him happy?”
“Ecstatic. I was finally becoming the son he wanted, not the screw-up he tolerated.”
“Noah.”
“No, it’s okay. It wasn’t his fault. You know, I’m not sure I ever want kids. I don’t think parents realize the power they hold. I’ve screwed up everything else in my life. I sure don’t want to screw up my kid.” He frowned and his shoulders slumped.
He was so wrong. He’d be fantastic with kids, even if he didn’t realize it. And maybe the way his father had messed him up would prevent him from making the same mistake. But now wasn’t the time to convince him. “So you majored in engineering for your dad, but did you like it?”
“By the end of my sophomore year I wasn’t sure if I was in the program because I wanted to be there or because I wanted to make my father happy. But Dad was already talking about me joining his firm. His partner was thinking about retiring around the time I graduated, so I could fill his shoes. But the more my father talked about it, the tighter the noose was pulled around my neck, squeezing the life out of me. I felt like it had been decided for me.”
“Did you at least tell your mother?”
A soft smile eased the hard lines on his face. “My mother figured it out before I even said a word. But when she gently brought it to my attention in high school, I told her she was wrong. I was willing to discuss it with her later, of course, but I still wasn’t ready to give up my new relationship with my dad. And then my dad died.”
His tone told her there was a lot more to that story, and she questioned whether she should push him to tell her. But she could tell he’d been carrying this burden around for a long time and he needed to share it. If he was like her—and she knew they were much too much alike for their own good—he wasn’t used to sharing this personal, intimate information with the women in his life. It was a good rule of thumb never to share personal information with someone who won’t be around long. But she sensed that this wasn’t something he’d told anyone.
“It had to be hard when your dad died, but at least you were getting along with him, right? No regrets.”
He swallowed and looked uncertain. “But we weren’t getting along . . .”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Did you tell him that you didn’t want to take over?”
“No.” He shook his head, pressing his lips together. Now he looked like he was about to be sick.
“We don’t have to talk about it, Noah.”
“No.” He turned to glance at her, and the fear in his eyes caught her off guard. “I want you to know. Even if . . .”
“Even if what? I run off screaming?” She turned in her seat to face him. “Don’t you think there’s a reason we haven’t told each other much about our pasts? I’ve done a lot of things life I’m not proud of too. And you and I”—she waved her hand back and forth between them—“we get each other. It would take a lot to make me run off screaming. It’s not like you killed anyone, did you?”
His face paled and he gripped the steering wheel tighter.
Oh, God. What had he done? Her head raced through the possibilities. He couldn’t have killed someone in cold blood. She knew him. He wasn’t capable of it. But until fairly recently, he’d lived an irresponsible life. A DUI wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
She squeezed his hand. “There is nothing you can tell me that will make me run from you. We’re friends, right? Friends stick together. You can tell me if you want. Or you can wait and tell me later. But I’m here. I promise. I’ll listen without judgment.”
“Don’t be so sure of that.” His words were bitter and full of self-loathing.
She stiffened her back and said forcefully, “Try me.”
He took in several deep breaths. He was waging some inner war, so she held on to his hand and squeezed, letting him know he didn’t have to deal with it alone.
“He came to visit me at school,” Noah said quietly.
“Your dad?”
He nodded. “I had no idea he was coming. I was only about an hour and a half away, so it wasn’t a long trip.” He swallowed nervously, but she could tell he was settling into the idea of telling her. “His partner had given him a retirement date and I was preparing for my senior finals. So Dad had brought some papers.” He stopped talking for a moment and took another breath. “He had added me to the firm. As a partner. It was dated to take effect after I graduated, but I’d been doing so well in school . . . and he thought I’d stopped taking my Adderall. For some reason, that made my accomplishments more real to him then.”