Page 84 of Penance
My brows smash together. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think you can’t?”
In a blink of an eye, even though I tried to stop it, her mask falls into place, clearing the storm. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” She glances around as if searching for a way out of this conversation, and when she spies a booth full of workers, she smiles. “Come on. Let’s find out what it will take for you to adopt this guy.”
With the puppy safely tucked into her arms, she takes off toward the booth, effectively shutting down the conversation. She’s running, but it’s okay because I’m willing to chase. And when I catch her, she’ll see that love isn’t always a choice we make.
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We walk out of adoption day with the mutt tucked safely into Lily’s arms and several shopping bags in mine. The bags are full of things like dog food and leashes—all the usual items you need to care for a dog—plus little sweaters and bows. Those were for Lily. She might deny loving the dog, but the way she smiled the entire time we were there says otherwise.
“Today was a good day,” Lily says, her nose pressed to the dog’s head.
Can’t love him, my foot. She already does and doesn’t even realize it.
“Yeah, hopeless, it was.”
She sighs. “Are you ever going to tell me why you call me that?”
Smiling, I change all the shopping bags to one hand and throw my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into me and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. She stills, and I worry I’ve pushed her good mood too far, but after a moment, she sinks into me, letting me hold her.
We walk to the truck like that, with me slowing us down so I can stretch this moment out a little longer. Pretend it’s real.
Eventually, we make it, and I have to let her go, opening her door so she can climb inside. She hands the dog over to me, and she immediately takes her back once she’s settled.
“You know,” I say, acting casual. “I’m terrible with names. Maybe you should name her for me.”
She eyes me like she knows what I’m doing. “It’s your dog, Theo. You have to name her.”
“Fine. Dog.”
She presses her lips together, disappointed. “You cannot name your dog ‘Dog. ’”
“Okay, Mutt.”
“No.”
“Monster?”
She doesn’t even grace that one with a response, just a growl.
I throw my hands up in the air. “I give up.”
Lily looks softly down at the dog. There are hearts in her eyes as she strokes her hand over the dog’s back.
“Lucy,” she says almost inaudibly. “I think you should name her Lucy.”
The dog perks up its ears, and I chuckle. Reaching up, I give the dog a playful scrub on the head. “Lucy it is, then.”
Lily holds Lucy in her lap for the rest of the ride, and when I drop her off at her house, she looks a little sad when she places the sleeping puppy in my seat and walks away.
I can’t help but wonder how many times Lily has had to walk away from the things she loves.
Chapter 30
Lily
Boards creek under my feet as I pace back and forth. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’ve told myself to turn around and go back home a hundred times. Then I think about the two votes coming up and continue to pace.
Everything I’ve worked for my whole life hangs in the balance of those two votes—in my ability to sand down my hard edges and let others see beneath the walls I’ve built for years.
