Chapter 32
Lily
T he past few weeks had been a doozy. After the first day of sending that message, the doorbell had rung, and despite the strict instructions I'd given them, I rushed to open it, only to have my heart sink to the floor at the sight of delivery men. Not even one of the guys. The security cameras had arrived, and my first instinct was to contact Eric so that I could thank them altogether. But I couldn't because I'd pushed them away.
To be fair, I thought they'd show up already. Fight to get me back. But several weeks had passed with no contact, and I feared I'd lost them for good. But wasn't that what I wanted?
Day after day, I'd done my same routine, but now, there were traces of them everywhere. At the park, I remembered the conversations we shared during our walk, being grateful that we drove to the park instead of walking all the way there when the rain sprinkled.
I remembered them using their collective muscle and the sheltering of their bodies to prevent my mother from getting wet on their way back to the car. The way we laughed at the people staring at us as we raced through the drizzle like it was a damn storm. The way they caught their breath after transferring her from the wheelchair to the car, only for the rain to stop seconds after and the sunshine to blaze as brightly as before.
Inside the house, it's like they left their signature on everything. The new burgundy couch is a reminder of them, the wall they reconstructed, their lingering cologne in my mother's room and through the hallway, Eric's scent on my sheets and pillowcases despite washing them countless times. Torturing myself with his scent by choosing to use that sheet set on my bed when I have others. The paint splatters on the black and yellow dress and the painting tucked away in my closet. There's no forgetting them, when they're everywhere, filling me with warmth and regret.
So, today, I took the first step. Choosing another route for my mother's walks. The summer sun was striking, so my mother was wearing her pale-blue sun hat to match her blue and white sundress. I'd decided against scrubs today even if it's easier to wear them to protect my clothes, but screw that. I couldn't stand the thought of fabric clinging to my damp legs at the moment. So, I'm in worn-to-death jean shorts, a baggy T-shirt with a couple of tiny holes that you'd have to look hard to see, and my black baseball cap.
Grateful to come up on a tree we could rest underneath for a bit, I waited for the sweat to stop pouring off my body. The clunk of a basketball hitting the cement court echoed ahead. Testosterone announced itself through competition. Conscious of my too-short shorts now, I considered turning around and heading back in the direction I just came from.
Until a familiar voice froze me to the spot. "I'm absolutely wiping the court with them. Comment down below who you think is going to win."
"Eric, will you put the damn camera down, stop dribbling, and throw the ball?" a voice yelled.
My pulse fluttered so hard, I'm convinced my heart was running a marathon through my body. Yeah, I should definitely turn around. I hadn't heard that voice in so long, goosebumps flooded my skin. My toes folded and unfolded beneath my Crocs.
It wouldn't hurt to see how he's doing. He sounded happy. I knew he hadn't been uploading for a while because I'd lain in bed at night, watching old videos with him and the guys, when I couldn't help myself. But if he's filming now, that's a good sign, right?
Temptation got me moving forward, my chest tightening with the swell of my heart as I got closer. I looked up and wished I hadn't. My knees wobbled at the sight of all of them, shirtless in basketball shorts with grins on their faces. Before I could pull my eyes away, Matt caught sight of me first. My lips went dry, and I licked them, my eyes raking over him before I caught myself. Managing to avert my eyes, I stepped off, needing to hurry away. But I couldn't move fast enough with my mother as he ran over to me.
"Hey! Wait up!" he said as he got closer. "Where are you rushing off to?"
My cheeks burned.
"Hey, Mrs. Thornbread," he greeted her. I liked that they acknowledged her even though she didn't talk back.
Damn it. I shouldn't have been thinking about what I liked about them. How could I not, though, when he stood before me, sweat trickling past the dark patch of hair in the center of his chest, over his nipple, and past that anchor tattoo, and all I could see was what I liked? And wanted to touch.