The long country road stretched out in front of me for what seemed like forever. Blue skies hung overhead with only a few, puffy clouds.

I kept replaying the way Noah sang to me the night before. The way he didn’t try anything—The truck bounced over a pothole and Bo grunted. “What are you over there grinnin’ about?” Bo asked.

“What?”

“You’ve got this dumb grin on your face.” He rested his head against the window.

I glanced in the rearview. Sure enough, I had the stupidest looking smile plastered on my face.

“I hope you didn’t sleep with him.”

“What!” I glared at him, and I could just feel that the scowl on my face probably looked like Momma: one brow arched, my nostrils slightly flared.

“He’s nice, but come on, Hannah. You’re too good for him.”

I faced the road with both hands gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles washed white, my entire body tensed.

“Don’t believe me, huh?”

I didn’t say anything, just flicked the blinker a little too hard.

“He’s been in jail. Rumor has it he screwed Darlene at some party around New Year’s.”

“She’s seventeen.”

“Exactly.” He shrugged. “I mean, I like him and all, but do you think Dad would be okay with you dating him?”

“I don’t want to date him, Bo,” I huffed. “And I’m twenty years old, it doesn’t matter what Daddy thinks.”

“Okay,” he laughed. “I mean, I may be younger than you, but I’m not stupid.”

I turned to shoot another mother-glare at him and he had his eyes crossed with his tongue stuck halfway out of his mouth, like a half-drugged dog. “That’s what you looked like this morning.”

I grabbed one of Daddy’s leather work gloves from the drink holder and whacked him with it. “I oughtta…”

“But you won’t, because you’re my Nanner, and you’re just too nice.” He chuckled, more than pleased with himself as I turn into the drive.

“I want to kill you.”

“I love you too, sis.”

It had been a week since I’d fallen asleep in Noah’s truck. A week since I’d seen him because he was always gone by the time I got home from work. But more importantly, during that past week, Momma had been feeling better. I wanted to be hopeful, but I knew it was par for the course. A few weeks after chemo, patients feel better, and then as soon as they go back for treatment, they’re down for the count.

Momma took a seat at her dressing table and I stood behind her running the brush through her hair, horrified when a large clump came out in the brush. It’s something that you can’t truly appreciate until you see it happen. It’s just hair, after all, but it’s such a cruel reminder that something terrible is wrong. I tried to subtly drop the brush to my side when I pulled the hair from it. I wadded it up and tossed it into the small trashcan beside the dressing table.

“Baby,” she said, reaching up and grabbing the hand I was using to brush her hair. “It’s okay.”

I took a steadying breath. She smiled before glancing in the mirror. “We should just shave it.” She nodded. “Sinead O’Connor—I always thought she was beautiful. You think I could pull that look off?”

I leaned down beside her and looked at her in the mirror. “You could pull off any look with an abundance of grace.”

Sighing, she wrapped her arm around me and pulled my cheek against hers. “You make all this easier.”

I choked back the tears and moved away, patting her arm. “Want me to get Daddy’s electric razor?” I should have said thank you, maybe told her I loved her, but all I wanted to do was pretend it was all okay. I wanted peace.

Twenty minutes later, there was a circle of hair on the floor, and she was rubbing her hand over a smooth head. “Well”—she inhaled before grabbing a tube of mascara from the dressing table—“all I need is mascara.”

Even without hair, she was still beautiful.

She swept a coat of mascara on before standing and holding out her arms. “What do you think your father will say?”

“I’m certain he’ll love it.”

“Think he’ll call me a rebel?” She arched a thinning brow.

“I’m sure he will.”

Momma stared straight ahead at her reflection, and after a few seconds, her expression fell, and the smile slowly faded. Swallowing, she dropped her chin to her chest, but before I could say a word, she was making her way to her walk-in closet and shutting the door.

“Momma?” I stepped to the closet door and tapped over the painted wood. “You okay?”

The knob twisted. The door swung open and Momma walked out, wearing one of her white, floral dresses. She moved past me to the doorway, stopping and grabbing the doorframe to catch her breath.

“Momma…” I stepped behind her and placed my hand on her back.

Her shoulders rose and fell on a hard breath. “I may be dying, but I refuse to do it without grace.” And she went into the hallway, slowly making her way down the stairs.

Much to my surprise, Noah’s truck was parked by the shop when I got home from work. When I opened my car door, Bo’s distinct laughter came floating around the back of the house.

Instead of walking through the front door, I followed the stepping stones around to the backyard. Noah was leaned over Daddy’s tractor working on the engine.

“Need a wrench?” Bo asked.

“Yeah.”

Noah stopped and grabbed the bottom of his grease-stained undershirt, lifting it to wipe the sweat from his face. My eyes went straight to the exposed skin on his stomach, then to those deep lines that disappeared under the waist of the jeans hanging dangerously low on his hips. When he dropped his shirt, my gaze lifted to the ridiculous grin on his face.

“Hey, you,” he said.

“Hey, baby girl,” Daddy chimed in.

I immediately spun around, praying no one saw me staring at Noah. Mommy and Daddy were sitting on the old aluminum glider by the azalea bushes. “Hey.” I glanced over to Momma, taking note of the pink scarf wrapped around her head. “You look pretty.”

“Your daddy thought it would be good for me to get some fresh air.” Placing a palm on his chest, she rested her head against his shoulder and Daddy stretched out his legs, rocking the glider.

The tractor engine cranked, and Sampson sat up from his spot on the backporch. “Yeah,” Noah shouted before shutting it off. “Looks like you just needed some spark plugs, John.”

“Thank you, Noah.”

Bo wiped sweat from his brow as he started toward the backdoor. “Bo,” Daddy shouted. “Grab those burgers when you come back out, would you?”

“Sure, Dad.”

I turned around just as Noah dusted the dirt from his hands onto his jeans. His gaze stopped on me for a brief moment. “Alright, John, well, I think that’s got me done for the day.”

“Guess it does.” Daddy stood, hitching his pants up before he walked to the grill and fiddled with the burners. “You sure you don’t wanna stay for dinner? I grill a good burger.”

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Appreciate it, but I already have plans.” He took a slow step back, his gaze stopping on me for a beat too long before he turned around. “I’m playing tonight at Tipsy’s…eight o’clock,” he said as he rounded the side of the house.

Something on the grill popped and Daddy jumped back a good foot.

Momma looked over, laughing. “Don’t burn your eyebrows off, John. We’d be the pair then, wouldn’t we? Me with no hair and him with no eyebrows.” Momma patted the empty spot on the swing next to her and I took a seat. “Was work good?”

“It was fine. Just glad I have the next few days off.” The engine to Noah’s truck rumbled to life. Sampson hopped up with a growl before taking off around the side of the house, barking.

Momma’s cheeks had a slight, healthy pink tint to them, not near as pallid as they had been. It was evident she felt better, and that was what made it so hard. I knew it was only temporary, but I also knew I should be eternally grateful for every moment, no matter how temporary it was.

“We should go get our nails done at Judy’s this weekend like we used to,” I said.

She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I’d like that.” She swept her hand over my cheek, cupping my face like she did when I was a little girl. “Noah seems nice.” The hinges on the glider creaked when she pushed it back.

“Yeah.”

One corner of her mouth curled in a knowing smile. “He’s not hard on the eyes either.”

“He’s more Meg’s type than mine,” I said in an attempt to deflect the fact that I found him hopelessly attractive. Funny how we do things like that.

“Mmhmm.” She moved the glider back again, the springs squeaking. “Just be careful.” She patted my thigh.

Be careful, I agreed with that… whatever it meant.