He asked if you were broken.”
My breath caught.
“Why?”
“Because you weren’t eating. You weren’t laughing. He said you sat alone sometimes.”
I looked toward the door.
I barely remembered those lunches.
Noah did.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him you weren’t broken.”
Mom swallowed.
“Then he said something I’ve remembered for six years.”
“What?”
Her fingers closed around mine.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“He said, ‘Good. Because I don’t know how to fix people. I only know how to stay.’”
I couldn’t speak.
Mom squeezed my hands.
“For six years, Noah has kept a promise to me that you never even knew existed.”
My heart started pounding.
“What promise?”
Mom’s voice cracked.
“I asked him to look after you.”
I stared at her.
“You what?”
“I was falling apart, Chrissy. Your father had left. You barely talked to me. And Noah was the only
