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“Lily.” Her name sounds like a plea.
She pauses with her hand on the door frame. “Yeah?”
“Stay.” I grab the plate she brought me and sink down onto the bench along the wall. “Please.”
“Okay.” She moves toward me slowly, like she’s approaching a wounded animal, and settles beside me. The warmth of her body next to mine is grounding in a way I didn’t expect. When did I start taking so much comfort in her presence?
I take a bite of the lemon chicken, eyeing the broccoli with suspicion. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since this morning and I end up eating some of the veggies too.
“Tell me something good,” I say between bites. “Something about your day. Anything.”
She shifts beside me, tucking one leg up under herself. “Work was okay today. I showed a house. I have this client that’ll earn me a big commission if I land the sale. I think I’m getting close. Callie texted me, too, and she and the guys are heading home. She basically demanded I go to the annual lake house Halloween party.”
“Do you want to?”
“If Aspen and Callie are there, yeah.”
I grin at that, the tension in my chest loosening. Callie, Aspen, and Lily have been friends for as long as I can remember. Lily’s voice is soothing, melodic in a way that makes the ugly voices in my head finally quiet down. I could listen to her read the dictionary and still hang on every word.
“Oh, and I was thinking about this trip my mom and I took to Colorado when I was fifteen.” A smile breaks across her face. “She decided we needed a girls’ weekend and booked this ski trip, even though neither of us had ever skied before.”
“How’d that go?” I take a bite of the potatoes, humming in approval. Rosemary mashed potatoes are my favorite. I’m still not sure about the broccoli, but I eat some anyway.
She giggles, the sound bright and infectious. “Terribly. I made it maybe fifty feet down the bunny hill before I caught an edge and just . . . rolled. Like, full-on tumbled down the rest of the way. Mom was laughing so hard she fell over too, and we both lay there in the snow, crying from laughing so much.”
The mental image makes me chuckle, and it feels good. Normal. Like I’m not the fucked-up guy whose parents don’t give a shit about him. I finish the food and set the plate aside, turning to really look at her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“This,” I gesture between us, “is exactly what I needed.” Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this out loud, but I’ve had too much of a messed up day to care. “You make me feel good.”
A shocked look ripples across her face, her lips parting slightly. Hope unfurls in my chest. The way she reacts to me, to Hudson and Cole? That has to mean something. I get to my feet, moving back toward my workbench while she’s stuck processing what I said. “Don’t think too hard about it, Lily.”
Crimson stains her cheeks and that blush makes me want to do bad things.
Her gaze lifts to meet mine, chin tipping up. “Can I stay?”
“You better.” The response comes out automatically, but I mean it more than she’ll ever know.
I catch the pleased grin that spreads across her face, and my chest fills with pride. I vow right then and there to do whatever I can to make her smile like that again.
Chapter Nine
LILY
The automatic doors of Big Ridge Manor slide open with a soft whoosh. I’m immediately hit with that familiar mix of antiseptic and something else I can never quite place. Maybe the scent of slowly encroaching death? My chest tightens a little as I approach the front desk, exhaustion weighing heavy on my bones. The job for Addison is taking a toll. The only thing keeping me going is knowing that as cluttered as that house is, cleaning it is temporary.
“Hey there, Lily!” The woman behind the counter waves. I’ve seen her around Big Ridge ever since we moved here—at the grocery store, the post office, church when I used to go—small town syndrome at its finest.
“Hey!” I wave back, forcing a smile. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Sure is. Your mama’s having a good morning.”
Excitement zings through me. My heart flutters as I sign in and make my way down the hallway. The beige walls are lined with paintings of the mountains that probably came from some bulk healthcare supply catalog, but today they don’t feel quite as depressing.
I pause outside Mom’s door, bracing myself. I never know which version of Mom I’m going to get. The one who raised me or the stranger who happens to share my DNA. I peek around the doorframe and find her hunched over a puzzle at the small table by her window, the radio humming softly nearby. Her hair, more silver than red now catches the afternoon light. She’s wearing the blue cardigan I brought her last month. My throat tightens.
“Hi, Mom.”
