8. Lilah
LILAH
I saw somewhere that butterflies rest when it rains because it damages their wings. It was supposed to remind you it’s okay to rest during the storms in life because you’ll fly again when it’s over. Here’s the thing... I think there’s something wrong with me because I don’t want to be the butterfly. I want to be the storm. I’ll rest when I’m dead.
—Lilah’s Secret Thoughts
“ M om?” I stare, my mouth agape when I open my door to Mom and Dillan, both standing on my front steps, grocery bags in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “What are you doing here?”
“Lilah Belle Ryan...” Mom leans in and kisses my cheek, then hip-checks me. “Step aside.”
Shit. It’s never good when you get full-named in my family.
“Whatever you say.” I push open the door and wait for her to walk by before I hold Dillan back. “Why does she look like she’s up to something?”
“Because she is,” Dillan squeaks and ducks past, then spins around to face me as she walks backward through my foyer. “But she brought strawberries, vanilla bean ice cream, and chocolate fudge with her. So maybe don’t piss her off until after I’ve had some, okay?”
I can feel the headache coming on already.
Like this day hasn’t been long enough.
Dillan spins back around again and follows Mom down the hall, with me trailing behind her. In my own house . Ugh.
Guess we’re going to the kitchen.
“Honey...” Mom looks up when Dillan and I walk in. “Where is your bottle opener?”
“Umm...” I move over to the drawer I think I saw it in the other day and rummage around until I find it. “What are you doing here, Mom?”
She takes the fancy-shmancey opener out of my hand and points at me with it. “I’m soaking up quality time with my girls. Is that a crime?”
Deep breath in . . . slow breath out.
Do not lose your shit on your mother.
“No, Mom. It’s just been a long day, and I didn’t know you were coming.” I pull out a chair at the island and plant my ass, preparing myself for whatever is about to come. Because something is certainly coming. My mother is nothing if not crazy. Amazing. Loving. Possibly the best mother in the world. But she’s as crazy as anyone I’ve ever met.
She collects three stemless wine glasses from the glass-front cabinet and cracks open a bottle of rosé. “Oh, Lilah... We never got any time during the holidays for just the three of us. I felt like we were overdue for a girls’ night.”
I look over at the clock and that quick movement doesn’t escape her. “Are we keeping you from something?”
Dillan pushes a glass my way, then takes one for herself. “Oh, this ought to be good,” she giggles, and I glare.
“What the fuck?” I murmur.
“Language,” Mom chides.
Dillan chokes on her wine. “Oh please, Mom. We learned to curse from you.”
I nod. “True. Daddy used to watch what he was saying in front of us.”
“Whatever. Your father curses worse than I do. What were you what the fucking ? Or should I ask who?” Now, this is probably what she’s really here for. Damn this town. Gossip travels faster than the speed of light around here.
“I’m not fucking anyone,” I tell them both and sip my wine. “And if you want to go down this road, you better hand me a spoon because I’m gonna need some ice cream.”
Mom pulls a carton of bright red strawberries from her bag and shakes them in front of me. “Where’s your cutting board, Tink?”
I motion to the left of the sink and sit back as she goes to work on the strawberries, praying that’s the last of the who’s Lilah banging conversation but knowing it’s not.
“Okay . . .” Dillan snags a berry from Mom and pops it in her mouth. “So . . . going back to you what the fucking . . .”
I growl at my little sister. Legit growl.
“Yes,” Mom exclaims. “I heard a rumor today?—”
“There it is,” I announce.
“What?” My beautiful mother looks around, trying to appear as innocent as possible.
Newsflash.
She’s the farthest thing from innocent.
“Oh please, Mom. The smile on your face when you walked through my door meant you were up to something. I just had to figure out what it was. And now I know. So... let me be proactive here. I am not what the fucking anyone. I haven’t been for a long... long... long time.” I turn my eyes on my sister. “Now you, on the other hand. I may have heard a rumor or two too.”
The next strawberry she picks up gets thrown at my head.
“Really?” Mom turns to grab bowls, but Dillan and I go right for the spoons and the ice cream instead.
“Where’s the fudge?” I ask her and smile deliciously when Dillan grabs it from the bag and drizzles it right over the carton of ice cream as I reach across the island with my spoon and drag the strawberries closer. The two of us tap spoons like we used to when we were kids and dig in before Mom even turns around.
“Oh... Okay.” She picks up her own spoon and leans across the island to get a spoonful too. “Okay. You.” She points toward Dillan. “You’re on deck. I want to know what your sister is talking about with you too. But you first.” She swallows her scoop of ice cream and moans—actually moans—then points at me.
“Mom, please.” Good lord. How are we not all more fucked up than we are?
“Sorry. Okay, focused. We heard a rumor today, and I’m going to need you to clear it up.”
I look over at Dillan, like she might be able to telepathically tell me what the hell Mom heard, even if I’ve got a pretty good idea. But you never know. And I don’t really want to give her the Killian scoop if that’s not what she’s talking about. I’ve got to tread carefully.
“Noah and I had the meeting with the label this morning.” I drag another spoonful through the fudge, then dip it in the bowl of berries, hoping my mouthful will give her a minute to answer.
It doesn’t work.
Mom and Dillan wait me out.
Is it better to get it over with and just tell them?
Maybe I’ll test the waters.
“I think it went okay. Not the best but not the worst either.” There. That wasn’t too painful.
“Did it really end with you in an arranged marriage to one of the hottest men in Kroydon Hills?” Dillan reaches out for more ice cream, but I slap her hand away with my spoon.
“Are you insane? Like actually out of your mind?” I pull the entire carton of vanilla bean goodness my way and refuse to share. “You don’t actually believe that. Come on...”
Her evil smile grows like the Cheshire fucking cat.
“Believe it? No. Did I hear it...? I may have,” she admits, and as I sit there with my mouth gaping open, she takes it as her opening to steal the ice cream back.
Twat.
“From who?” I’m aware my voice just increased to a frighteningly high decibel.
Oh well.
She blinks, like she can’t believe I managed that sound, before schooling her face. “I cannot divulge my sources.”
“Ugh.” I flick her forehead, and she tries to shove me back but misses. “Mom.”
“Sorry, Tink. That’s what I heard too. Well, sort of.”
I swear sometimes when I look at my mother, I feel like I’m looking at my reflection in twenty years, and it makes me so happy. She’s beautiful and kind and awesome... and I’m gonna kill her. “You two are such bullshitters.”
My mother sips her wine and pulls herself up to sit on the counter. “But it’s so much fun, honey.”
“I hate you,” I groan, but at least I do it with a smile.
“No, you don’t,” they both chime back.
“Fine. Yes. I agreed to let Killian act as an additional bodyguard.” Even saying the words makes me feel so incredibly pathetic. I’ve worked my whole life for this career. Sang my first time in front of a crowd when I was five years old. Twenty years ago. And this is what I’ve been reduced to.
“And he’s going to be acting like your boyfriend too? Are you going to be sharing a bed?” Mom asks, and for a hot second, I wish she was an accountant instead of a world-famous romance author with two different shows running on Netflix and a movie in post-production.
“No, Mom. This isn’t an only-one-bed romance.” Of course, the little pang in my chest when I think of sharing a bed with Killian pisses me off almost as much as it turns me on.
No. Nope. Not happening.
Uh-uh.
It pisses me off more than it turns me on.
“Damn, Tink. That man looks so fucking hot when he’s sparring. And he’s so much bigger than you. Like holy size kink, batman. I’d let him do anything he wanted to me. The more depraved, the better.”
Mom and I both stare at Dillan, shocked.
“Dillan Laine Ryan—” Mom finally gasps, and Dillan just shrugs and smiles.
“Seriously, Mom. His muscles have muscles. You just know he’d be?—”
“Stop. Please, God, stop.” I shove my spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, and she coughs. Oh well. Definitely the lesser of two evils because if my little sister keeps talking about Killian like that, I might just come up with a less tasty way to shut her up.
I may not want the man, but there was a time... Nope. Not thinking about that.
The little brat swallows the spoonful, then smiles so big, her dimples show.
She licks her lips and runs her finger over the corner of her mouth. “I see how it is.”
“Girls,” Mom warns. “Be nice and use your words. Wait... actually, Dillan. Maybe you should use less words. There are some things even I don’t want to know.” I’d say poor Mom as she stands there cringing, but it serves her right.
“Yeah well, it worked.” The little twat-waffle looks triumphantly between us.
“What worked?” My body tenses, feeling like somehow I just got tricked into something, but I’m not sure what.
“You, big sister, just told me what I needed to know.”
Oh, I so know I’m going to regret this. “And what exactly was that?”
“Killian St. James might be playing the part of bodyguard and boyfriend, but there’s enough truth buried in the lie to make it dangerous. Be careful. He’s supposed to keep you safe, but it sounds like he could be more dangerous than you realize.”
“Dangerous to your heart,” Mom adds, and I can’t help but think the romance author in her has read too many of her own books.
But the truth is they’re not wrong.
He may be the biggest danger I’ll ever face, because he almost broke me once.
The young girl who loved love and hearts and flowers—the one who grew up watching the best fairytale play out in front of her every day as I got to watch the way my parents loved each other—that same girl died a little when I left Kroydon Hills, and it took years to find her again. The truth is I’m not sure I ever got her back completely, and I’m not sure my heart or my head could bear going through that again.
Maybe this was a really bad idea.
I look down, suddenly very interested in counting the seeds on my strawberry.
“But here’s the thing, Tink.” My mom walks around the counter and lifts my face. “You are one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.” She pushes my hair away from my face, pride emanating from every inch of her body. “I want you to hear that again because I didn’t say women, I said people. Men and women. I’ve met all kinds in my life and you, my beautiful girl, are stronger than all of them. You have been your entire life. I know Killian was special to you when you were younger. Your father and I worried about how much time you were spending with him and the boys, but even then, you never let those relationships stop you. You still pursued your music. If anything, you were stronger because of them, not in spite of them. Those boys were your biggest fans, including Killian. Life has a way of working itself out. Maybe this is your chance to find that friendship again.”
I shove the emotion back down my throat, refusing to give voice to Mom’s beautiful words. “This was the only way to get the label to keep looking for insurance for the remainder of the tour.”
Mom’s slow nod leaves little doubt about how much she believes that, but she lets me have my lie. “If your label can’t find insurance, Daddy and I talked about it after Noah left today. We’ll cover it.”
“Mom—”
“I love you, Lilah Belle.” She tilts my head forward and kisses my forehead.
I close my eyes, refusing to let my tears fall.
“I love you too, Mom.”