Page 69 of The Lilac River

Cassidy tilted her head. "And what about you? Are you still figuring out what’s safe?"

I let that hang in the air for a beat before answering. "It’s just harder being back than I expected. I thought I could avoid him. That I could... compartmentalize it. Pretend I don’t remember how it felt to love him."

She gave me a look. "Lily. You don’t forget that kind of love."

I nodded. I knew she was right. But that didn’t make it easier.

"I didn’t even know he had a daughter until I got here."

Cassidy hesitated. "I heard he got injured. In college. His knee. It ended his football career."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"Just something somebody told me once.” She rolled her eyes, like whoever it was, irritated her. I didn’t have the energy to ask. “They said he blew it out during a scrimmage just a couple of months into college."

I felt like I’d been punched in the chest. My breath caught.

"So... I broke his heart. Then he lost everything."

"Stop," Cassidy said, voice firm. "Don’t do that. Don’t write a tragedy from one mistake. He has a good life. Family. Land. Bertie. And yes, have you seen him? He still looks like the cowboy centerfold of a very tasteful calendar."

I barked a laugh. It felt good. Normal.

Before she could press further, our waitress appeared. Emerson. Still as frosty as winter in Aspen.

"Lily," she said coolly. "Heard you were back. Explains the bad smell I guess.”

"Good to see you, too, Emerson," I said more politely than she deserved.

“I doubt that,” she hissed like I was another cat on her territory. “What do you want?”

“That’ll be two cobb salads please,” Cassidy said, as sweet as honey. “Oh, and hold the attitude if you don’t mind.”

Emerson opened her mouth, no doubt ready to spew some more vile comments, but Cassidy flicked her fingers.

“Chop, chop, we’re on a lunch break.” Emerson stook her nose in the air and stormed off. "Friend of yours?" Cassidy whispered.

"Let’s just say she didn’t host me a going-away party." I glanced over to watch Emerson practically throw our order at Missy May’s chef, Bernie. “She was another one who always wanted Nash, and I had him.”

We both laughed, and I glanced out the window.

And froze.

A tall figure in a tailored suit crossed the street, moving like he owned the pavement. That slick confidence. That smirk.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered.

Cassidy followed my gaze. "Is that?—"

"The Mayor," I confirmed. "Candyman himself. And no, I don’t need to say his name five times."

She reached across the table, fingers curling around mine. "He doesn’t get to haunt you anymore. You hear me?"

I nodded, but my chest still tightened.

"Hey," Cassidy said, trying to redirect, "Band night’s next Friday at Downtown. Come with me?"

I smiled. "Let me check my calendar."

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