Page 115 of The Lilac River

“He’s the youngest,” Gunner finished for him.

And just like that, I smiled again.

These men, this family, they were stubborn and wild and a little bit reckless. But they were mine. And together, we were going to take our lives back.

As I sat there in the warm kitchen, surrounded by the people I'd never stopped loving, I felt something I hadn't expected to feel again—purpose. Connection. Hope. Whatever came next, whatever their father threw at us, we would face it together.

And that made all the difference in the world.

Chapter 42

Criminal – Fiona Apple

Lily

It had been six days since dinner with the Miller brothers, and my nerves were shredded.

Mom was still holding off on speaking to Julian at the newspaper, but the weight of that decision sat on both our shoulders like a storm cloud waiting to burst. Every day she waited, the more I saw the strain etched into her smile. In the way her fingers twitched toward her phone before she thought better of it. She just wanted it over with. To rip the Band-Aid off, confront the truth, and take away Mayor Miller’s leverage once and for all.

But that kind of public honesty took guts we weren’t sure we had left.

“Stop worrying,” Nash murmured beside me, tugging me closer on the big black leather sectional in the den. His arms wrapped around me with such easy confidence that I almost believed him. He pressed a kiss to my hair, soft and grounding. “It’s gonna be fine.”

We were supposed to be watching a movie, something light to distract me, while we killed time before he and Gunner left for their so-called mission of breaking into their dad’s apartment. Bertie was at a sleepover with Elodie, which meant the house was quiet. And me? I was having my own version of a sleepover with Nash.

His warmth seeped into me, and I wanted to believe it would all work out. That they’d pull this off, find the deed to the lavender field, and come back before anyone knew they’d gone.

But dread curled low in my stomach like cold smoke.

“What if it isn’t?” I whispered, my fingers twisting in the hem of my shirt. “What if he finds out? What if he catches you in his apartment?”

“He won’t,” Nash said firmly, a calm resolve in his voice that made me both grateful and envious. “Wilder’s meeting him for a late dinner. Eight-thirty sharp. He’s using the excuse that he wants to talk about going into politics.”

I frowned, turning toward him. “And your dad believes that?”

Nash grabbed the remote and paused the film mid-scene. “He will. Wilder always got the lead in school plays, he’s a natural. Plus, he’s been brushing up on policy. You should hear him talk about tax brackets now.”

Despite myself, I laughed, a small, tight sound that broke the tension just enough.

He took my hands in his, surrounding them with his larger, calloused palms. That simple contact, of his rough strength enveloping mine, sent warmth up my arms and into my chest.

“Gunner and I will be in and out before you know it.”

“I hate sitting here, not knowing what’s going on,” I muttered, chewing on my thumbnail. “Why can’t I come with you?”

Nash’s expression hardened. “No way. Not a chance.” He shook his head slowly, his gaze never wavering from mine. “I need you here when I get back.”

It hadn’t been the original plan. But when Mayor Miller rescheduled his lunch with Wilder into a later dinner, they’d had to pivot, and Nash had insisted I stay behind.

“Wilder and Gunner have that poker game after,” he reminded me, voice dropping low and suggestive. “And you and me? We’ve got the whole night. Alone.”

He leaned in and kissed me, slow and coaxing. His mouth brushed mine like a promise, his hands sliding around my waist, drawing me into the heat of his body. It wasn’t demanding but I gave in anyway. Willingly. Desperately. After ten years of distance, this, this quiet closeness, felt like water in a desert.

His lips lingered at the corner of my mouth, before trailing to the hollow beneath my ear.

“I missed this,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “Missed you. And I didn’t realize how much until I had you again.”

His fingers traced a slow path beneath the back of my shirt, spreading wide over my spine like he was trying to memorize me by touch.

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