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“It can hurt everything,” I point out dryly, trying not to show any emotion.
She lost her parents, and moved forward. My mother walked away, but she’s still alive. Even if she did move on to another family and another life before writing us off like we didn’t even exist.
Our losses have different consequences. And I’m starting to think Lilah is more badass than me. Not that I’d ever tell her that.
“He had a girlfriend he forgot about,” I remind her softly.
“And he had a crazy girl with an unhealthy addiction to boots for less than a month, and hasn’t been interested in another vagina since,” she’s quick to retort. “I’ve witnessed that first hand.”
My smile spreads before I can stop it, because now that I think back to her questioning whether or not her neighbor was into guys and wondering if she could watch the show, and it of course makes me feel good to know he showed zero interest in anyone else.
“Everyone always called my parents reckless. I mean, they started an entirely new corner of crazy just to toss my dad in. Then my mom joined him, and it was…magically insane,” Lilah states randomly.
I laugh, thinking back to how wild her parents were. And how they were always together.
“She always said he was the biggest risk she ever took, because he consumed her. Dad said the same thing about her,” Lilah goes on, a sad smile on her lips as she leans back on her hands and stares out the hole where the window will be.
After a beat, she turns her head to face me again, eyes serious for a change.
“You can’t be reckless in every aspect of your life because you enjoy the adrenaline and the rush life gives you, then be overly cautious in the one section of your life that could give you the biggest rush you’ve ever had. It’s hypocritical, for one, and you hate hypocrisy. Trust me when I say it’s more fun to have someone always in your corner and at your back. You’re not a coward, Kylie Malone. Don’t use your mother as an excuse to wall yourself off. Otherwise, how are you any different from the people who always point out we’re going to die young?”
I groan as I glare at her and hate her a little in this moment. She grins as she wiggles her eyebrows, knowing she’s winning.
“You’re really not the best person in the world to take advice from, considering you’re a Vincent.”
She shrugs.
“I’m married now, so my relationship advice is totally legit,” she deadpans.
We both start laughing after a moment of silence, and I sigh as I push back up to my feet and offer her a hand up.
She takes it, and I of course drop her back to her ass, turning and walking out while she curses my back.
“Hey, does this boat seem slower to you since Benson gave it to me?” she asks as we reach her boat again.
I answer as we get boarded once more in less than a few seconds.
“Not one bit,” I lie, knowing Benson did something to make it slower.
“It says sixty but it feels like it’s going thirty at the most. And I could swear that it used to do ninety, if you had enough weight in here. But it tops out at sixty, which again, feels like thirty.”
“It’s because it’s finally yours,” I lie again, grinning without her seeing it. “Nothing is ever as good as it seems once you finally have it.”
It’s a loaded statement that has her rolling her eyes at me when I look over at her after untying the ropes.
“I can assure you, some things are even better when they’re yours,” she argues.
As she cranks the boat and gasses it, she curses, staring at the topped out speed of sixty, which really is thirty. Crafty husband she has.
“Just not everything is better,” she grumbles, pouting as we coast down the lake.
I wonder which category Liam falls under.
“Give it a few weeks,” she calls out, her voice carrying over the steady roar of the loud motor. “Spend all the time with him you can until you two either fall hard or hate each other. Call it dating boot camp, that way you can’t have this same debate with yourself daily.”
She cuts the wheel, heading into town instead of driving me to Liam’s.
“After a few weeks, you can decide if his crazy matches your crazy,” she says as we dock.
“Okay. Why are we here?”
She holds up her index finger after she finishes tying off. “One, because you need to pack a bag. That shirt is mine, by the way. Don’t forget it.”
“It’s mine,” I dutifully point out. “You borrowed it like a year ago and didn’t return it.”
“After a year, I think that makes it mine. Anyway, you need clothes. And also, you need to see Vick.”
