Page 48 of The Lilac River

“What the hell!” My hands curled into fists at my sides as Cassidy returned, shooting me a confused look.

“He was being a dick,” Nash growled.

“What happened?” Cassidy asked.

“Nothing happened apart from him thinking he’s some sort of bodyguard. One I should point out I don’t need.”

“Didn’t look like it to me. Looked like you need help.”

“Hey, you guys.” It was Gunner, a stabilizing hand on Nash’s arm. “Everything okay?”

“Might have known you’d have to interfere,” Cassidy muttered.

“Gunner, tell your brother he’s a dick and to leave me alone.”

“Lily,” Nash said in a warning tone. “At least let one of us make sure you get home without Forester bothering you.”

I stared at him, my chest heaving with the exertion of not punching him in the nuts. “Oh, why don’t you just…oh fuck off.”

I didn’t wait for Cassidy and stormed for the door.

“Lily, just hold up,” Nash’s voice boomed out, like he was the boss of me or something.

"I told you I could deal with him," I snapped, stalking to the edge of the sidewalk and hugging my arms around my waist. The main drag of Laytmer was a ghost town now, the shopfronts shuttered, the sidewalks empty under the late September moon. Strings of fairy lights draped across the street blinked weakly, casting patches of gold on the cracked pavement.

"You shouldn't have to deal with him," Nash said, following me, his voice rough. "Forester Bridge is a pushy drunk, and he was getting too damn close."

Forester. Of course it was Forester. He'd been a loud-mouthed troublemaker in high school, and it seemed he hadn't matured much. He'd cornered me once in the school gym when no one else was around. Then his breath had been hot with the smell of garlic instead of whisky, as he’d ignored every polite hint I’d given for him to back off. Nash had ‘rescued’ me then, too. Then I’d been his girlfriend, and I’d liked his protective side. Now he was just an egotistical idiot.

"He barely touched me," I hissed. "And why should you care anyway?"

The scent of leather and clean soap wrapped around me, pulling me back into a place I had no business visiting. I took a step back, trying to put space between us, but it was like trying to outrun gravity.

"What happened to Bertie's mom?" The question slipped out before I could catch it.

Nash's mouth tightened. "It was a one-night thing. She left Bertie with me when she took off to work on a cruise ship. Only heard from her again to sign over custody."

His voice softened slightly when he said his daughter’s name, and for one heartbreaking second, I caught a glimpse of the man I used to know, the one who would have given the world to the people he loved.

"Anything else you want to catch up on from the last ten years?" he asked, the bitterness sharp beneath the calm. “Or can we get back to Forester fucking Bridge.”

"Why aren't you playing football?" I blurted. "You were supposed to be winning Super Bowls."

"Okay it seems we can’t talk about Forester.” He laughed without humor. “If we must talk about Super Bowls then let’s, because I thought we were supposed to be winning them together."

The air grew thick between us, heavy with regret and words left unsaid. My chest ached from holding in everything I wanted to scream at him that I had never wanted to leave, that I'd been forced.

“Did you even ask about me while you were away?”

I shook my head. “No. It was too hard. I asked my mom not to ever talk about you.” The sadness I’d been experiencing thickened and squeezed at my insides, making it hard to breathe. “It was just, too,…, too, hard.”

Nash’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and his jaw tightened. “Yet you still left.” A slow breath, ragged and tired, filled the space between us. “You left, Lily and you never came back.” He strode away two steps, before stopping and turning around. “Delaney offers an Uber service; you should go back inside and ask him.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I pushed. Call it sadistic but it seemed like I should share whatever pain he was in. If I was the cause of it I should take some of the burden. “Why are you back on the ranch? Why aren’t you living your best life in the NFL.”

“Funny, because I thought we were supposed to be living thatbest lifetogether.” He shrugged. “Didn’t quite work out like that did it?”

Weariness overcame me as the events of the week and the evening started to take their toll. All I wanted was to go home and sleep for ten hours. I didn’t need another confrontational conversation with him. I didn’t have the energy.

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