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I shiver and he notices—something I’m realizing is normal for him. He pulls the blanket up over me, tucking me in, covering me in warmth. It’s a distraction and a good one, and if this was any other day, any other man, I would just let my question go.
But it’s Lake.
And…I want to know.
So, I take a breath—convince myself this is me moving forward—and I say, “That’s not the only reason.”
Thirty-Six
Lake
Stupid.
This conversation, plunging headfirst into this pool of delusion.
And…yet, I’m standing at the end of the diving board, ready and willing to launch myself off.
I look over at Nova, at those pine needle green eyes, at the wariness in those emerald depths, at the casual smile that does nothing to belie the tension in her frame.
She’s expecting me to shut her down.
I expect it too.
So when the opposite comes out of my mouth, I almost don’t know what to do with myself.
“It’s the pins,” I say. “But it’s also you.”
Her head tilts to the side, brows drawing together.
“There’s something about you, something that’s hidden below the surface, and it’s like if I just wait long enough, it’ll emerge and”—God, I sound like an idiot—“I just know it will be beautiful.”
She inhales so sharply I’m surprised she doesn’t choke. “Lake,” she whispers, lips quivering before she turns her head away. “I-I—” A breath before she turns back, eyes glimmering with tears. “I don’t think anyone has ever said anything so nice to me.”
I hate that for her.
I hate that I’ve taken away the mischievous side, made her go serious.
I hate that she has fucking tears in her eyes.
“Don’t cry,” I say gruffly, because my heart is doing that thing again, and my throat is tight and I fuckinghatethat she has tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s not you,” she whispers. “It’s also”—she reaches into the front pocket of her hoodie, pulls out something blue and black—the same something blue and black she retrieved from Steve (literally from Steve) a few days ago—“this.”
She opens her palm and I get my first full glimpse of that quarter-sized item.
“I bought this for my grandmother.” A deep breath. “She’s the one who found my sister and I in foster care, who brought us to California after our parents left us. They’d cut contact and she didn’t know my parents abandoned us until—” A shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter, really. She didn’t know at first and when she found out, she got us out. We hadnothing, fuckingnothingduring the years we lived with her. Just love and food and a safe place to sleep. I—” She closes her eyes, exhales. “She loved butterflies, and I worked one summer to be able to buy this for her. She—”
A tear slides down her cheek and I wipe it away.
“She,” Nova says again, “wore it every day until she passed away. That’s why I was so upset when Steve tried to eat it.” She touches the center of the butterfly. “It’s a little worse for wear and it’s missing one of the diamonds, but it’s my memory of the one person in my life who was always there for me.”
I wrap my arms around her as she closes her fingers around the charm.
“It’s silly,” she says, “just a necklace a kid bought for her grandma. But when she left it for me, she wrote in her will that she wanted me to emerge from my cocoon like a butterfly, that she wanted the world to see me as the beautiful person I am.”
“And have you?”
Her eyes slide away. “When she died, I left. I followed the wind, traveled all over the world taking pictures. I did so many things I never dreamed were possible, met people, visited places I never could have imagined. I lived a big and exciting life doing what I love.”
