Page 17

As we approached Lilah’s house, a sense of panic crawled through me. I didn’t like the idea of her alone in there, no alarm system, no one to reach out to.

“Do you feel safe here? In this house?” I asked, the question coming out more abruptly than I intended.

“What do you mean? Is this a bad area or something? The realtor said…” Her eyes got big as she spoke.

“No. I know. I’m sorry. This is more of a me issue. But do you feel safe here? I don’t know if or what you’re running from, but you came here for a reason. I work with security systems. Set Mom up before she even moved in. I think it would make both her and I feel a lot better if we could set one up for you. Unless you have one?” I asked, throwing that in as I realized the only reason I knew she didn’t was because I had broken in. She frowned, opening and shutting her mouth.

“I’ll think about it,” Lilah finally replied. I nodded, accepting that for the moment.

“Thank you for letting me walk you home.” The words came out before I had a chance to stop them. It was the truth, though, and why was it so bad to just say what I felt? Why did everything have to be analyzed and dissected before spoken?

“Thank you for offering. It was really good to see you, and it was nice talking. You’re easy to talk to, I guess,” she replied, a flush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

“Anyway. I better get inside. Have a good night.” She hesitated a moment before reaching out to grab my arm, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to my cheek. I froze, all my senses on high alert.

“Sweet dreams, Eliot.” Her voice was richer, the warmth of her breath fanning my cheek.

All I could do was nod, my eyes never leaving her as she walked away. Even after she unlocked the door and waved me off. I heard all the locks click in place, traced her movements through the house by the lights turning on and off, and still, I didn’t move. I had to get used to that feeling, that emptiness. Because a part of me was gone. Lilah had stolen it, tucking it away without even realizing her actions. I would never be whole unless we were together. She was my missing piece.

Chapter 10

Lilah

After the night Eliot walked me home, things had shifted between us. Each morning, I woke up to a text from him, and he would continue to check in throughout the day. A warm feeling spread through me every time I saw a message from him.

Eliot: Good morning. I hope you have a good day at work…Maybe take it easy on the coffee intake.

Lilah: Don’t caffeine shame me! Also two cups isn’t that much.

Eliot: Two cups an hour is.

Lilah: I told you that in confidence!

Eliot: No, you told Mom with pride then reluctantly shared with me. Just make sure you drink some water too. Can’t survive solely on caffeine and paint Blue Jay.

Lilah: I can try…

They weren’t flowery, or even romantic. They were consistent, though, like he really cared about where I was and if I was okay. When Eliot let his guard down, he was funny, and I had taken it as a personal challenge to make him smile more—or just at all.

Each conversation, every exchange, I felt like I was pushing the boundaries a bit more. Seeing how far he would let me go, how much he would share with me. Intentionally or not, I was getting to know a side of Eliot I never expected.

I guessed I should have been upset or freaked out that he ran a check on me. Instead, I thought it was sweet. Beth and Eliot’s relationship was unlike anything I had experienced growing up. At the same time, it wasn’t like anything I had seen or heard about from friends or on TV.

It wasn’t a Norman Bates mother and son relationship. There seemed to be clear boundaries in place in terms of what they did and didn’t talk about. But there was care in every interaction, genuine affection, not a beleaguered sense of duty, an unwanted obligation.

Walking into Darkhorse Pub, I put everything away in my locker and debated putting my phone away, but I wanted it on me. There was a part of me that was afraid that my new friendships with both Beth and Eliot were tenuous and would disappear if I didn’t watch closely. I knew it wasn’t healthy, that fear of abandonment morphing into my obsession with connection.

Regardless, before I started my shift, I typed out a quick message. I wouldn’t be able to answer right away, so I decided to keep it lighthearted to give myself something to look forward to as the shift dragged on.

Lilah: What do you call a group of coworkers who meet at a bar to complain about their jobs?

Lilah: A Whine Club! I snorted. It was a bad joke, but I liked it. It made me smile—something that wasn’t always easy. Tucking my phone away, I grabbed my tray and got started on the tables that had already filled up.

Over an hour had passed, and there was no response. I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest. Why did I think he would reply? It’s a Saturday night. He’s probably partying with the club or something. Weaving through the crowd of patrons, I ignored the way certain people didn’t move out of the way, forcing me to slip past them, our bodies touching.

It wasn’t as bad as an outright ass grab, but just an icky feeling. After 9 p.m., the place was packed, and just getting back to the bar for refills felt like navigating a complex obstacle course. Leaning against the thick wood, I dropped my tray with a sigh.

“Hey, Opal. I need refills for table six. Can I get a diet coke, too? I’m so thirsty.” Opal was friendly. She worked the bar most nights I was there. She had been a bartender for a while. It was fascinating to watch her mix drinks. Her hands moved of their own volition as she poured and stirred without measuring a thing. And the drinks were good. On quiet nights, she had asked me to taste a few new cocktails she wanted to add to the menu.