Chapter Three
LILY
This house needs more work done than I know how to do or Mr. Davis can afford to have done. It’s not pretty but I’ve done what I can with a couple of two-by-fours to secure the broken banister. But the leaky roof and sagging floor joists need more than patching up. They need fixing. Those are just the things I can see. Who knows what dangers are hidden in the walls? With the plumbing and, God forbid, the electricity.
“It’s getting late, Lily,” Mr. Davis says. “Don’t you have someplace else you’d rather be than keeping an old man like me company?”
After I finished the banister, I made a sweep of the house. Picking up trash and dishes to wash before sitting at the table to play a few hands of Gin. Even though I always lose.
Mr. Davis has been on his own for a long time since his wife passed. He’s in good enough health, the idea of him going to a nursing home is ridiculous. But sometimes I think it would be good for him to go somewhere he’d be safe and have company closer to his age.
He loves Towering Pines as much I do though. And to bring it up would be an insult. If only the house was in better condition. If only he could afford the renovation. He hasn’t been able to afford the repairs as they’ve come up. No way he can afford to do them all in one fell swoop now.
And since I can’t either, the least I can do is clean up a little and keep him company once in a while.
But his question, though he’s asked it every time I’ve stayed to play cards with him, finally has a different answer.
As much as I love helping Mr. Davis and keeping him company, I’d love for that man from the cafe to pierce me with those out-of-this-world eyes of his again. Flash me that perfect and oddly familiar smile.
But Mr. Davis is right. It is late. Too late to drop by a stranger’s home.
“You’re just trying to get rid of me before I finally win.”
“Oh, Lily. Dear. That will be the day,” he says and spreads his cards on the table. “Gin.”
We both chuckle. And as I add up the points and he starts shuffling to deal another hand, my phone chimes with an incoming text.
“Excuse me,” I say and cross the room to take the phone from my purse.
Blue: You’re such a bad sister. You get held hostage by Apollo Christiansen and don’t tell your own flesh and blood about it?
I start to type that I have no idea what she’s talking about but stop when it hits me. She’s talking about Spaceman.
Me: His name’s Apollo?
Wow. My nickname for him is spot on. But how couldn’t it be with those eyes and that smile of his?
Damn it... Where have I seen that smile before?
Blue: Oh, come on. I know you’re a little out of touch but how do you not know who Apollo Christensen is?
I send her a shrugging gif.
Blue: O.M.G That’s him!
I’ve used this gif hundreds of times. But now, I look at it more closely. Sure enough, it is the man that held me hostage in the cafe bathroom. The image is low resolution, his nose isn’t as broad, and his hair is longer but there’s no mistaking the full beard I'd love to get my fingers messed up in and the blue eyes I can't stop seeing when I blink. That’s my Spaceman.
Me: I didn’t know.
Blue: Well, you’re about to know him better than anyone. The paparazzi made his apartment. He needs a new hideout. I volunteered your house.
Oh, Blue.
I scrub my hand down my face.
I thought she was over this. That she’d grown out of making these rash, big decisions that change people’s lives without thinking through how they will affect them. Like getting me a puppy I didn’t have time to care for properly, so I had to give him to Haley’s boyfriend. And her getting pregnant and not telling me about it.
At the very least, I would have thought Oliver would have talked her out of something like this.
