Page 89 of The Intruder

Her lower lip juts out. “You’re always late on Fridays. What are you doing so late every week?”

Lee’s ears turn pink for a split second, and I almost would have missed it if I weren’t watching him carefully. “Hey, I have a job to do. Somebody’s got to pay the bills around here, kiddo.”

She’s right though. Every Friday, he comes home late, and he always shrugs and says he’s working. But whenever I call him, the phone goes straight to voicemail. I used to think that it was probably a girl he was seeing, but I don’t think that anymore. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I’ve learned to accept there are things about Lee’s life that he isn’t ready to share with me.

Nell gets out her notes for the day, and I walk Lee to the door like I do every morning. Even though I still live at my own cabin, I am here quite a lot. I don’t sleep here, but other than that, I am here morning through night seven days a week.

As we get to his front door, Lee turns to smile at me. I ironed his shirt for him, and he looks very handsome this morning. I’ve been thinking that more and more. I always noticed he was attractive, but lately, I’ve been getting that tug every time I look at him. I think about him all the time, and when he gets home late, I miss him.

Yes, I’m technically here to help with Nell. But Lee is the one I can’t stop thinking about. I’m starting to wonder if I’ve been depriving myself from relationships for too long. Yes, there are things about him I don’t know, but one thing I do know is that he’s a good man.

My father would have approved.

“So,” he says, as he lingers at the door, “I’ll see you later. With pizza.”

“Yes,” I say.

He wants to kiss me. I can see it in his eyes. I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time, but that look is unmistakable. He stands there for a bit, and I can tell he’s thinking about it. I take a breath, waiting for him to press his lips against mine and make our relationship official. I’ve been scared of this, but I’m realizing that a life with Nell and Lee is all I’ve ever wanted.

But he doesn’t kiss me. He reaches out instead and gives my arm a squeeze. Then he smiles awkwardly. “Bye, Casey. See you tonight.”

I watch him walk out to his truck and climb inside. I don’t quite understand Lee Traynor. He’s a good man—he’s proven that many times over—but sometimes he’s a bit of a mystery. Where does he go on Fridays? Why won’t he kiss me when I know he wants to?

But at least he’s never called me Ella again.

When I return to the kitchen table, Nell has her math textbook on the table. It’s a thick book, which thankfully has answers in the back, because my knowledge of seventh grade math is admittedly a bit rusty. Nell is probably better at solving the problems than I am.

“So,” I say as I slide into the seat next to her, “ready to get started?”

She nods eagerly. “I did all the practice problems last night, and all my answers were correct.”

“Good for you!” She really is better at this stuff than I am. “Okay then, let’s continue where you left off.”

Nell has a bookmark in the textbook, and she flips it open to the last page she was working on. But I notice it’s not actually a bookmark—she used a photograph to hold her place in the book.

“What’s that?” I ask her.

“Oh, that’s a photo of my dad that Uncle Lee gave me.” She picks it up and looks down at the faded photo with undisguised affection. “He made me promise to keep all the photos safe in my room though so they don’t get lost. I better put it back.”

It hits me that in the last six months, Nell never shared any of the photographs of her father with me. It obviously means a lot to her. Math can certainly wait.

“Would you like to show me the picture, Nell?” I ask her.

She smiles shyly. “It’s very old. From back when he was my age.”

I return her smile. “I’d love to see it.”

She gingerly slides the photograph across the table to me, as if it’s a piece of delicate artwork that might be destroyed with improper care. I pick up the slightly faded color photo as the boy gazes back at me.

Oh my God. I can’t believe this.

Yet it all makes a terrible sort of sense.

I stare at the photograph, my head spinning. Nell is looking at me expectantly, waiting for a comment, but my throat is closed off with grief. I can’t believe who I’m looking at. After all these years…

My fingers fly to my neck, to the silver chain that still hangs there. I still keep a paper clip hanging from the necklace, always tucked into my shirt for safekeeping. So I’ll always have a way to escape a bad situation. And so I’ll always remember him.

“Casey,” Nell says anxiously, “why are you crying?”