There was nothing to do, Brennan knew, than to simply confront the ghosts of his past with a divine amount of humility and accept the blows he was due. And despite wanting to mind his own business, to simply breeze through Saint Vincents and not throw a wrench in the clear serenity that was Noemi Hendrix’s life since he’d left, he couldn’t. Not after seeing the little boy at her side, a little boy neither his parents, nor Bowie had ever mentioned. But no husband, no partner by her side at his mother’s funeral, which only further complicated the questions he had. Rebecca had mentioned wanting to get out from under the Walsh family roof to someone a bit... less hectic than four walls shared with Bowen, and so Brennan made his way to the Dragonfly Inn, an excuse to see Noemi by ‘coincidence’ before deeming it ultimately unsuitable and booking them at the Cannonball. Bex would be none-the-wiser, and Brennan might finally have some answers to his questions.
Instead, as he entered into the pristine little lobby of the stunningly decorated little inn, Brennan was distracted by Noemi once more, captivated, even, as he caught sight of her adjusting a flower arrangement. He wasn’t sure what to do, to approach or to turn on his heel and flee, but as ever, his curiosity got the better of him, and once enough distance was closed, he’d beckon her attention. “Hey, Noems.” He breathed, nickname familiar as ever on his tongue.
@noemihendrix
