"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.

"I miss her."

A giggle and a poke to his cheek forced his eyes open again. He aimed a squinted scowl at Caleb, who stood before him, clad in pajamas and holding a bowl of cereal.

"Why are you on the couch?"

Nolan kicked away his comforter. He hated sleeping with the comforter during the summer, but Nora had chosen the thinner of blankets, and he wasn't about to force her to switch. He could have just slept without a blanket, but the idea of that had always made him uneasy.

"What time is it?" he asked, glancing toward the hall.

"Seven-thirty," Caleb replied, like it was natural to be awake at this hour by choice. "Why are you on the couch?"

Nolan rolled his eyes and clambered to his feet, quietly making his way to the kitchen to grab a box of cereal.

"Why were you on the couch?"

"Shut up," he said. He padded over to the cabinets, grabbed the box he wanted—Frosted Flakes—and moved on to the bowls.

"Why won't you answer?" Caleb pouted. "Was your room too messy to sleep in?"

Nolan shot him a flat look.

"What?" Caleb asked.

Okay, it was a solid guess. He had, on more than one occasion, slept in the living room because his bedroom was too messy. "Yeah," he drawled. "That's it."

"I think you're being sarcastic."

"No."

"That time, too."

The front door opened and Greg stepped inside. He sagged against the door and started to close his eyes before Caleb said "Hi!" and he snapped to attention.

"Hey," he said, putting on a smile. "What are you guys doing up so early?"

"Nolan's being sarcastic. And he was sleeping on the couch."

Greg's eyebrows shot upward. "Room too dirty?"

Nolan dumped milk into the bowl and scooped out a spoonful of Frosted Flakes. Cereal was the only good thing about mornings.

"No-No—"

Caleb cut off as Nolan's bedroom door opened and Nora emerged, clad in the spare pajamas Nolan had given her before taking his bedding to the living room. She paused in the hallway, uncharacteristically shy. "Good morning," she said.

"Nora!" Caleb squealed, and threw himself at her. Her smile grew, looking more real now as she hugged him back. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Yeah," Greg said, so softly Nolan was the only one who could hear him. "What is she doing here?"

"I was too tired to go home, so Nolan let me crash here," Nora explained. Her eyes found Nolan's. Thank you. "I'm sorry for intruding," she said.

"Oh, you're not intruding at all!" Greg said. "Could we get you something for breakfast? I could make eggs and bacon."

Caleb clapped his hand against his bowl. "Yum!"

"Isn't that a bowl of cereal?" Greg asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, but bacon."

Nolan snorted and made to grab the eggs and bacon.

"So, what did you guys do last night?" Greg asked, snagging Nolan's cereal from where he'd left it on the counter. Nolan scowled, but didn't otherwise say anything as he grabbed a tray and parchment paper. He should have known better than to leave his breakfast unattended.

"Played Twister," Nora replied. "They were down a person, so I got called in."

"Ah! Sweet. Did you guys have fun?"

"Yes!" Caleb said. "I'm the champion."

"Not surprised."

"Nora even convinced Nolan to play," he continued. "He stinks."

"Shut up," Nolan said, even though it was true.

Greg's eyes widened. "That's awesome," he said. A smile tugged at his lips, relief and happiness touching his eyes.

Nolan averted his gaze to the counter.

✝

After breakfast, Nora said she should probably get going.

"Do you need a ride?" Greg asked.

"Oh, no, I'm totally fine walking," she said.

Nolan stood from his place on the couch and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. "I'll walk you."

She blinked, a little surprised, but smiled and nodded. "Okay."

Greg's eyes burned into his back as he and Nora left the room. His cheeks warmed, knowing what Greg must have been thinking, but, thankfully, she didn't seem to notice.

The morning light was nearly blinding as they started down the street, its warmth nice for now, but supposed to grow hot and muggy later.

He kicked a rock, and it scuttled across the pavement, to the opposite side of the road. The question of what happened between her and her father prodded at him, but he didn't ask. She was finally smiling and laughing again. He wouldn't be the one to take that away.

"Thank you for last night," she said.

He nodded.

"I'm sorry again for all the crying." She laughed softly and crossed her arms over her chest. "My mom's death sometimes just...hits me hard."

She tried to shrug it off, but her lips twisted and she toyed with her braid that way she always did when she was stressed. There was something she wasn't saying.

"I understand," he said.

"I know," she replied. "And I'm sorry you have to."

She grabbed his hand and squeezed.

"I dreamed about her last night," he said, eyes straying from their hands, still interlocked, to her. "My mom."

"Was it a good dream?"

He rolled over, and there was Nora, her cheeks tear-stained. "For the most part," he said.

"I love when I dream about my mom," she said. "Good dreams, anyway. It's like getting to visit with her. You know?"

He nodded.

"I didn't dream about her last night." She sighed. "It was so weird though."

His eyebrows rose.

"You want to hear it?" She grinned. "Oh, who do I think I'm asking? Of course, you want to hear it."

Nolan snorted, and her grin widened.

"Okay, well, we were all sitting there in my math class, right? And I mean everyone. You, Willow, Andy, Max, Erin. Even Nathan."

"As the teacher?"

"Nope. A student. One of those obnoxious ones that chews their gum and pops it really loud—like in the 80's movies."

"Naturally."

"Anyway. So I'm just staring at this test and am so confused because the math has no numbers. Like I know math gets pretty complicated, but, seriously, at least one number would be nice!" She laughed. "And so Willow and I just look at each other all confused. Which honestly is the most unrealistic part, because Willow would understand it, like, instantly."

Nolan chuckled.

"But, in the dream, we said, 'This is so uncalled for'—and we didn't realize we said it out loud until the math teacher—who was actually Mrs. Eastwood, my freshman year English teacher—got really angry and whacked our desks with her ruler."

She really liked to travel to different times in her classes. He supposed that meant he should add time traveler to her list of aspiring professions.

"That in itself is hilarious because Mrs. Eastwood is actually so nice. But, anyway, you'll never guess what happened next."

She paused as though actually expecting him to guess. He didn't.

"She turned into Shrek!"

He blinked. "What?"

"Yeah! And then she started yelling for us to get out of her swamp. And Donkey showed up and yelled, 'Waffles!'"

He laughed, and she did too, and for a moment, the weight of what had happened last night fell away. She was just Nora, the perky girl who made his pizza go cold and had somehow wedged herself into his life.

"Now I want to watch Shrek," she said.

"Have at it."

She pouted. "I don't own it."

"Netflix?"

"Is it on there?"

"No idea."

"Well, either way, I don't have that either," she said. "Ooh! I could just break into Andy's account."

"A Christian girl plotting to hack someone's account. Nice."

She laughed.

The rest of their walk was much of the same, with her bringing up random subjects and him giving his usual one- to two-worded responses, amused by her enthusiasm. Soon enough, they reached her driveway. A Jeep Cherokee sat next to a blue Tacoma.

Nora stopped just before the driveway, mouth dropping. A wave of happiness flooded her face.

"What?" he asked.

"My aunt's here," she said.

The door swung open, and she dropped his hand. Rachel peered curiously out at them. "There you are!" she shouted. "When your dad said you weren't home, I assumed you were at Willow's."

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Nora called.

"The surprise wouldn't really work if I'd done that, would it?" Rachel asked. "Not that it worked anyway, because you need to be present for me to surprise you."

"Consider me surprised."

"Considered." She turned to Nolan. "You want some pancakes?"

Nora tensed.

"I'm okay," he said. She sagged. He did his best not to take that personally.

"Oh, come on!" Rachel said. "This is my best batch yet."

He glanced at Nora.

She smiled. "You want some pancakes?" she asked.

"Sure," he said.