Page 55 of The Lilac River

Because deep down, I knew one thing:

The lavender field and the ranch weren’t just land. They were memories. They were assurances. And if he took that from us… from me… it wouldn’t just be a sale.

It would be erasure.

Chapter 21

Uncover – Zara Larsson

Lily

"How's your head, honey?" Mom asked, handing me a steaming mug of black coffee the second I walked through the door.

"I might not be big on alcohol, Mom, but even I know a hangover doesn't last three days." I shuddered as I sank into the couch, pulling my legs under me. "Booze is the devil but I just had a long day, is all."

The memory of Saturday morning was still vivid. My mouth had felt like sandpaper. My brain was cotton. And my stomach…well, my stomach had entered into a quiet, persistent rebellion. The smell of coffee had helped, but only barely. After our late-night confession-fest where I’d shouted to Cassidy that I still wanted Nash, we opened a bottle. And then another. By four in the morning, we were draped over her couch like discarded party favors. Sleep had been a twitchy, sticky mess, and by sunrise, I'd done the walk of shame back home, two miles in borrowed flip-flops that slapped the pavement like punishment. Then I’dwritten Mom a note to say I was in bed and ‘please don’t disturb me, unless the house is on fire’.

"You were pretty much comatose all weekend," Mom said, scoffing as she sat down beside me.

More in my head than comatose responding with a simple, ‘it was okay’, when Mom asked me how my night had been. Once I emerged from my den of pity and damp, alcohol sweat soaked sheets.

"And was your ex responsible for that fact?" Grandma asked, barely glancing up from her knitting.

I stared at her. "How did you know he was there?"

She shrugged. "It was Friday night; there’s one bar in town. I took a guess."

"You should seriously see if Sheriff Jackson needs an extra deputy," I muttered, wrapping both hands around my mug.

"Someone needs to get laid," Grandma declared.

"Grandma!"

"Mom!"

Grandma just shrugged at our unified disbelief. "You think we give up sex after sixty?" She pointed at Mom. "If that’s the case, Ella, you’ve got fifteen years left. Make 'em count."

"Mom, please don’t discuss my sex life," Mom said, laying a hand over her chest like she might swoon.

"Or lack thereof," Grandma muttered.

She turned back to me, eyes sharp. "So? What happened? Did he say something that made you hit the tequila? Because that was tequila, right? I could smell it coming out of your pores, right up to Sunday evening."

God, Grandma really did need a badge.

"He stuck his nose where it wasn’t wanted," I said carefully.

"Not your panties, I’m guessing."

"Mother!" Mom groaned like her soul was trying to escape.

"He thought I couldn't handle some unwanted attention," I said, desperate to change the subject. "Stepped in when I didn’t need saving."

"Typical male," Grandma huffed. "Doesn’t want you himself, but God forbid anyone else tries."

I slumped back on the cushions. "You could be right. I’m pretty sure he’d rather I just leave town."

"You’re not going to, though?" Mom asked quietly.

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