Page 65 of The Lilac River

“A shit show,” he rasped. “Public Health took samples. We dammed the creek, but…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Could be weeks before we know anything.”

I nodded, heart aching. “But you caught it early, right? The water’s slower this time of year. Less spread.”

He blinked, surprise flickering across his face. “You remember that?”

I gave a small shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “You taught me everything about this place. Guess it stuck.”

He looked at me a moment too long, like he was trying to see through time. Then he exhaled, long and low.

“How’s Bertie?”

“Sleeping. She kept some water down. No fever. I think she’s over the worst of it.”

Relief rolled through him in a visible wave. His knees almost gave. “Thank you,” he said, voice thick with it.

I looked down. “I made you dinner. Just pasta and chicken. Hope that’s okay.”

Nash’s eyes softened, something deep and unreadable in them.

“I don’t deserve that,” he said.

“Maybe not,” I whispered. “But you deserve to be taken care of. Just a little.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared like I was something precious he’d forgotten how to hold.

Then he cleared his throat. “Would you stay? Eat with me?”

And just like that, the ache inside me changed. Cracked. Became something else. Something warm. Something that tasted like hope.

“I’d love to.”

He nodded once, almost shy. “I’ll check on Bertie. Grab a shower. Be down in ten.”

I watched him walk away.

My hands trembled where they gripped the counter. My heart beat wild and fierce in my chest.

Maybe I couldn’t tell him everything tonight.

But maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new.

One quiet dinner. One truth at a time.

Chapter 25

Apologize – Imagine Dragons

Nash

There was nothing in the world that could explain what I’d done. Nothing that made sense of the moment I looked across the kitchen and asked Lily to stay for dinner. I could’ve blamed it on the way she held Bertie like she was something fragile and sacred. I could’ve blamed the heat, or the dust, or the ache in my bones from the creek fiasco.

But the truth was simpler and more dangerous.

I missed her.

Not just her laughter, or the shape of her in the doorway. I missed the way she used to look at me like I was her whole world. I missed the way saying her name used to feel like a prayer. Somewhere deep down, beneath the scars and silence, I still wanted to believe we had something worth salvaging.

So she stayed and we ate dinner.

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