Page 76 of The Lilac River

I was halfway to my car when I heard boots behind me.

"Lily."

I turned.

Nash stood there, my phone in his hand. "Again," he said, with a ghost of a smile.

I reached for it, and our fingers brushed. A spark. Real. Hot.

"You didn’t have to come all the way back," he said softly.

"I didn’t mind."

He stared at me, jaw tight. "Thank you. For yesterday. For everything."

The words didn’t sound casual. They sounded like the start of something.

"You’re welcome," I said.

We stood there, not speaking, not moving, just... feeling.

Finally, he nodded. "Drive safe."

"I will."

But I didn’t want to go.

And judging by the look in his eyes, he didn’t want me to either.

And that? That was the most terrifying part of all because leaving him standing there in the dusk felt harder than anything I’d done in a long, long time.

Chapter 29

Home – Phillip Phillips

Nash

The world was conspiring against me. The world and my brothers.

Damn Wilder inviting Lily for dinner had just been phase one in the universe’s grand plan to screw me over. I mean, it hadn’t even been bad, at least on the surface. I barely spoke to her, but Bertie spoke enough for all of us combined. Lily had helped clear the table, loaded the dishwasher without a fuss, thanked me politely for dinner, and left. No drama. No fighting. No lingering looks.

And yet, it had unraveled me.

Two days had passed, and I’d managed to avoid her since. I buried myself in ranch work, paperwork, even watching reruns of some dumb survival show with Gunner just to keep my brain occupied. Anything but think about the way Lily had moved around my kitchen like she still belonged there. Like she still knew my world. Like she still knew me.

Now, here I was, heading to school for the first parent-teacher meeting of the year. With Lily.

I hadn’t even known about it until this morning. Bertie, bless her little forgetful heart, had forgotten to give me the letter. Lily hadn’t said a word when she stayed for dinner, probably assuming I already knew.

The late afternoon sun was still hot as hell, even in the shade, and the high country air had that dry sharpness that always came before a cold snap. The scent of cut grass and pine sap lingered in the breeze as I walked up to the school, the gravel crunching beneath my boots.

The building looked exactly like it had when I was a kid. The same brick walls, same squeaky door hinges, same row of faded flyers for bake sales and band fundraisers on the corkboard. But stepping inside felt like walking into a different life.

“Hey, Nash.”

Ahead of me were Joseph and Bridie Hunterson. Joseph and I had gone all the way through school together, and their twins Jimmy and Jake were in Bertie’s class.

"Hey, Joseph. Bridie. How you both doing?"

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