Page 17 of Love the Way You Lion
My hands clench into fists at my side, the injustice of it all burning like acid in my veins. There’s a momentary silence, a chasm that stretches out between understanding and acknowledgment, and in that quiet, I can almost hear the echo of my own frustration, bouncing off the walls of Lily’s chaotic living room. I slump into the worn-out armchair Lily points to, my body language screaming defeat. The chaos of her living room somehow feels fitting, a mirror to the turmoil I can’t seem to escape.
“Look at me,” she says, her voice cutting through the fog in my head. “Not people. You have people. You mean Deli won’t pay the piper.”
“Exactly!” I explode, the frustration that’s been bubbling inside of me finally finding a vent. “Yes, for fuck’s sake. Tell me what I need to say to get her to understand.” My plea is almost pathetic, but pride has no place in desperation.
The door creaks open, and Mercury’s silhouette fills the frame. Lily’s gaze shifts, and for a second, her eyes soften at whatever silent communication they share. But then she shakes her head, and Mercury retreats with a last glance thrown my way that chills me more than the words we’ve been spitting back and forth. I can’t help but think of the tiny warriors he might unleash in my life as payback for this conversation.
“Sari, you can’t,” Lily says, turning back to me with resolve etched onto her features. “There is nothingtosay. She will not do this. Her beliefs, her emotions, and her physical state,” she continues. “She would never tell you ‘no’ if she could figure out how to reconcile it with herself.”
A spark of defiance ignites within me, fuelled by necessity and raw emotion. “Then I have to do it myself,” I declare, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “I’ll always love her, but if she doesn’t care about Wilde or me...” My voice trails off. Thethought of Deli with Taurus twists my gut, the image too vivid against the backdrop of my desperation. “And if she’s got her next ego feed set up with Taurus, she can flutter off into Rhea-land for all I care.”
Before I know it, Lily is out of her chair and her hand lashes out, swift and unexpected—a sharp crack against my cheek. I fall back into the pillows of her makeshift fortress, the sting blooming hot across my face. My eyes widen in shock, heart pounding at the audacity, the sheer physicality of her rebuke.
“Where thefuckdid that come from?” The words escape as a hiss between clenched teeth, a mix of pain and bewilderment clouding my voice. Lily stands over me, her chest heaving slightly, her eyes alight with an intensity I’ve rarely seen in her. It’s a side of Lily I didn’t anticipate—fierce protector, a guardian of boundaries—and yet it feels consistent with everything I know about her. Even as I nurse the red mark forming on my skin, I can’t help but recognize the fire behind her action, the unspoken message that I’ve crossed a line.
Stunned silence hovers between us, a palpable entity in the chaotic sprawl of her living room. My hand lifts to my face, fingers brushing over the tender skin where her palm met my cheek, a reminder that words can ignite storms as surely as they can heal wounds.
“That’s bullshit, and it’s not fair to Deli,” Lily’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and unyielding. “I don’t know why you’re using the loss of your mate to destroy your relationship with her, but you seem dead set on doing it as completely as possible.” Her accusation rings with a clarity that slices into me, forcing me to look beyond the fog of my own grief and frustration.
Rubbing my face, I try to find refuge in anger or indignation, but all I manage is the slow shake of my head. “Coming here was a mistake. I see that now.”
The words taste bitter, a confession dressed as defiance. In seeking allies for my cause, I’ve lost sight of the cost, the collateral damage inflicted upon those I claim to cherish.The echo of our confrontation hangs heavy, and I know that despite my bluster and bravado, there’s truth in her rebuke—a truth I’m not ready to face. I stand motionless, the sting from Lily’s slap still radiating across my face. Her gaze pins me, unyielding and stern.
Despite everything, a part of me yearns for her to retract her words, to offer a sliver of hope that doesn’t feel like a knife twisting in my chest.
“No, Sari, it wasn’t,” she asserts, her tone softer now, but no less firm. “Coming here to get me to help you manipulate someone was a mistake. If you tried to work through your grief, it would have been beneficial.” She pauses, eyes narrowing as if trying to peer into my soul. “As it is, I won’t tell you not to do this and despite her strenuous protests, I don’t believe Deli will try to stop you, either.”
Her words are a lifeline thrown into the turbulent sea of my emotions, but they also serve as an anchor, dragging me down with the weight of their implication. I need Deli to understand, to be by my side, yet here stands Lily, telling me she won’t obstruct—yet she won’t assist either.
“However, before you leave, I’d be remiss if I did not point out you have tried quests like this before.” She stops, her hand resting on the doorknob. “In December—this ended in disaster and likely set you on the path to this moment—and with Wilde going on those adventures with Amanda as she tried to find herself.” Her eyes meet mine, steady and knowing. “I don’t know what you and Wilde are missing inside, but consider that trying to find it by trampling everyone that loves you in a swath of rage, sorrow, and violence isn’t working. It is the definition of insanity and all.”
Her words hit me harder than her slap, echoing the uncertainty that has haunted me since Wilde’s disappearance. A knot forms inmy throat, and for a moment, I struggle to breathe around it. Lily sees through me, laying bare the desperation I’ve tried to cloak in righteous purpose. I clench my jaw and force a contemplative hum through my throat, nodding like I’m absorbing every bit of her sermon. My fingertips graze the cool metal of the doorknob as I step over a plush alligator, its glassy eyes mocking me with a silent, toothy grin. The pirate flags flutter slightly as the door closes behind me, their skulls and crossbones a stark contrast to the bubblegum pink walls.
“Take care, Lily,” I offer, the words hollow against the weight of her judgment. Just outside her doorstep, a breeze skims across my cheeks, carrying away the stifling warmth of her cluttered sanctuary. I draw in a deep breath, trying to flush out the sting of her reprimand with the crisp spring air.
Lily follows me onto the porch, leaning against the doorway with a frown that creases her brow. “What are you going to do? I feel I need to be ready.”
I hold her gaze for a heartbeat too long, searching for the flicker of solidarity that used to be there. Finding none, I turn away, letting the shadows from the overhanging willow tree dance across my face. “Don’t worry about me, Lily. I’ve got it under control,” I say, but the reassurance is for myself more than for her.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, but I can feel her eyes boring into my back, heavy with unspoken warnings. I stride down the path, each step echoing the turmoil churning inside me. Lily’s house, with its whimsical chaos and misplaced nostalgia, fades into the background, along with any hope of her understanding.
“I will ditch this,” I call out to her, my voice firmer than I feel. The wind picks up, as if it carries away the last fragments of my resolve. “You’re right, Lily. It’s too much pain to dredge up. I’ll find another way to figure out what I need.”
A curtain flutters behind her, ghosting past her shoulder and for a moment, it looks like it might reach out and pull me back towards the chaos of her living room, towards reconsideration. But the fabric settles, and so does my decision.
Lily’s stance softens, and the lines around her eyes seem less severe in the dim porch light. “What should I tell Deli?” Her voice is quieter now, tinged with something akin to concern, or maybe it’s just the fatigue of dealing with my mess.
“Tell her... whatever you want, dear,” I reply, not quite managing to keep the bite out of my tone. “I’m sure that scamp of yours has a recording. Share it with her.” I don’t bother to look back; I know Lily’s eyes are probably narrowing in that analytical way of hers, dissecting my every word for deeper meaning.
My hand finds the handle of the car door, and I pull it open with more force than necessary. The interior light washes over me, casting long shadows across the driveway. I slide into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against my skin, and shut the door with a thud that silences the world outside.
With that, I grin to myself, a private little victory dance inside my head.
That should do it.
The Bird Feels Helpless
TAURUS
