Chapter 12
Wade
I shift, propped on one elbow, surveying the aftermath like I’m still in a wildfire—chest heaving, sheets tangled, her skin glazed in sweat and the last flaming embers of climax.
She’s so small next to me, her hair fanned over the pillow, lips parted.
I could stare at her all day and night with ever feeling tired of it.
I reach to the nightstand for water and knock over my phone instead.
It hits the floor with a thud and lights up.
I scramble to pick it up, clumsy from the aftershocks in my muscles.
She doesn’t stir, just makes a little satisfied noise and burrows deeper into the nest of blankets.
I want to cover every inch of her in my hands, mouth, or some combination.
I want to apologize for every second it took to get to her, for every wall I put up instead of just letting this happen sooner.
My eyes glimpse a streak of blood on the stark white cotton under her hip.
I know what that might mean. She’s either on her period or, surely not …
she was a virgin. How can I bring this up gently, tactfully?
I nudge the sheet higher, covering the evidence.
The last thing I want is to make it weird, but the thought has rooted now and it won’t let go.
I replay the entire evening in my head, every small sound she made, the way her body shook—was it more than just pleasure? Was it surprise or pain? Jesus.
I reach for her hand, tangle our fingers together.
She’s so warm and trusting. The amount of trust floors me.
I study her face. It’s impossible not to remember her as a child —age four, knees dirty from the creek, turning those green eyes up at me, trusting then too.
I used to carry her on my shoulders up the switchbacks behind the Grant house.
Never thought I’d be the one carrying her to bed, not like this. Not ever.
She shifts, hair spilling onto my arm, and her breath feathers across my bicep. I want to believe it's simple, that she just wanted this as much as I did, but now that glimpse of red on the sheets is all I can see in my mind.
I could let it go. Pretend I didn’t notice. But I can’t. It’s the kind of thing that would replay in my head until it rotted the whole memory. I’m not built for secrets, not the kind that matter.
So I just ask, quietly, “Lilah?”
She makes a sound, halfway between a sigh and a hum, and stretches catlike. Her legs brush mine, and I almost lose my nerve, but I don’t.
“Were you a virgin?” I ask. The words land gentle, but they fill the room like smoke. She doesn’t open her eyes, just squeezes my hand.
“I wanted to be sure,” she says, so quiet I barely hear her. “That it was you.”
I look away, then back. I try to find anger, shame or even relief, but all I feel is this hot, wild jumble of responsibility and awe that I can’t name. My chest aches with it.
“You should’ve told me.” I don’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, but in the dark it’s the first thing that cracks through. She recoils a little, pulling the blanket up to her chin. The look on her face—it’s not fear, but a kind of embarrassment, a soft guilt.
“No one ever said it had to be a big deal,” she whispers. “Not for me, anyway.”
I sit up more, rub the heel of my hand over my face, which is hot. “Not a big deal to you?”
She shakes her head, and when she finally meets my eyes I see the pink ringing her cheeks, the beginning of tears. “It was a big deal. Only to me. I just—didn’t want to make you weird about it. I was afraid if I interrupted the moment and said something, you’d quit.”
Something in my chest goes off like a flare. I want to tell her she has no idea how weird I feel. I want to tell her I would have—should have—been more gentle, more patient, more everything, if I’d known.
“God. I wish you would have told me.” My voice is louder, but it’s not anger. I reach for her cheek, thumb catching the hot edge of her cheekbone, and she shakes her head against my hand.
“Because I wanted you to be the one.” Her voice is steadier now, the tremor gone. “I thought if I said it out loud, you’d chicken out and go all …” She makes a face, mimicking how I must seem to her. “… noble and protective. And I didn’t want protective. I wanted you.”
I want to tell her what it meant to me, but I can’t get the words to move past the lump in my throat. I just hold her, thumb grazing her jaw, and for a minute the silence says it better than anything I could.
She blinks fast, trying not to cry. “There’s no one else I wanted to give myself to in that way. Only you, Wade.”
The revelation of her virginity has hit me like a landslide. I can’t be heroic or wise in the face of that. I just keep holding her. I want to say something memorable, something that will last the rest of her life, but all that comes out is, “I don’t deserve you.”
She shakes her head, smiling in that unfiltered, mischievous way that undoes me every time.
“That’s never been for you to decide,” she says.
“There’s something else I need to tell you, Wade.
When I fell and you rushed to help me, I wasn’t sure if I was hurt or not.
When you carried me to your truck and I felt your arms around me …
the way you took care of me … I decided I was hurt in my mind.
I’ve been lying to you, Wade. There’s nothing wrong with my ankle.
It’s just that I didn’t want your attention on me to stop. I wanted this – all of this.”
Shocked, I feel a angry at her confession. I’ve put my friendship with her father on the line and she’s been manipulating me with not telling the truth.
“Lilah, I’ve put my deep friendship with your dad aside to take care of you. While I appreciate your honesty now, I want you to know that you must be completely honest with me from here on.”
She raises off the bed on her elbows. “I’m sorry, Wade. I’m selfish … I know. I put my wants above the truth.”
I wipe my hand across my forehead, realizing that this sweet angel who can also be a little devil wanted me so badly she would fake an injury and not let me know she was a virgin.
“Lilah the little liar,” I say, branding her. “If you lie to me again, there will be consequences. I’ll turn you over my knee and smack your ass until it’s beet red.”
Her expression changes and her eyes widen as she realizes I am only sort of joking. She licks her lips and stares at me. “Promise?” she asks.
“Come here, lyin’ Lilah,” I say, pulling her closer. “You’re not going to be able to walk for a week,” I say. “We’re not finished.”
She laughs heartily and it breaks up the seriousness of this moment.
“I’ll take it,” she says. “I’ll crawl if I have to.”
“You’re not crawling anywhere,” I say. She nestles into me, my hands tracing lazy, half-conscious circles over her bare back. Her skin is soft like velvet.
“How are we going to let the world of Cady Springs … and especially your dad know about us? Don’t answer yet, Lilah.
Let’s think this out carefully and have a heart to heart.
Because I didn’t risk my relationship with your father for a toss in the hay with you.
I want to keep you around instead of seeing you going back to the city. So … let’s talk, girl.”