Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
LILY
Three days have passed since the grocery store. I’ve caught glimpses of him around town—loading supplies at Wilsons, getting coffee at The Jittery Squirrel, driving past the school when I was leaving.
Three days of pretending I don’t care.
By Friday afternoon, my classroom is chaos. Spilled paint, glitter bombs, band-aids on imaginary injuries. I’m ready for the week to be over. I want to go home, change into my pajamas and curl up with a book or a feel-good movie, but I already made plans with Cassidy.
“My brother says sharks only bite bad people,” Zack announces during story time. “Is that true?”
“No. Sharks don’t bite anyone on purpose.” I turn the page, trying to focus on the story instead of the clock, whose second hand seems to be taking forever to move.
When the end of day finally comes around and the last parents pick up their kids, I rush around straightening the room before heading home. Cassidy will be at my apartment soon to get ready for the night out I’ve been regretting agreeing to all week.
My phone buzzes as I’m unlocking the door to my apartment.
Mom: Are you coming for dinner on Sunday?
I ignore it. I’ve been ignoring a lot of things this week. I’m not sure if I want to go over. I love my mom, but after the week I’ve had, I think I’d like a weekend at home … alone.
Cassidy arrives just as I’m getting out of the shower, holding a garment bag, and with determination in her eyes.
“You’re wearing this.” She unzips the bag and shows me a dress I’ve never seen before. “No arguing with me about it.”
“I wasn’t going to argue!”
“Sure.” She shakes the bag at me. “Take it.”
Rolling my eyes, I take it from her. I’m not about to admit it to Cassidy, but after Tuesday at the grocery store where I had to watch Amy and Kate touch Ronan, while his eyes burned into mine, I need to dress up and look like someone who hasn’t spent the past seven years pretending he didn’t matter.
I want to look like someone who is one-hundred percent over him.
The dress is perfect. Deep red, falling just above my knees.
Simple but elegant. I slip it on and study myself in the bedroom mirror, turning slowly to see it from all angles.
The fabric hugs curves I usually keep hidden under teacher-appropriate cardigans and loose blouses.
My reflection looks unfamiliar … or maybe too familiar, giving me glimpses of the girl I used to be before I learned to make myself smaller and quieter.
“You look amazing,” Cassidy says from the doorway, glass of wine already in her hand.
“Is this new?”
She grins at me. “If I say no, will you believe me?”
“No.”
She laughs. “I was in Carrington on Wednesday, looking for materials.” Cassidy makes clothes and accessories for pets, usually cats and dogs.
She has a successful online store and is always on the hunt for new ideas.
“I spotted that in the window of a dress store near the wholesalers. It was on sale. When I saw it was your size, it was like fate was talking to me.”
“Fate?”
She smirks. “Fate.” Taking a sip of wine, she peers at me over the rim. “And it might stop you thinking about him for five minutes.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t even try to lie to me. You get this look.” She leans against the door frame. “Like you’re seeing ghosts.”
“Maybe I am.” I sit in front of the mirror and set out my makeup. “This week has been …” I shrug.
“I know. But tonight isn’t about him, or town gossip. It’s about us having our well-deserved monthly night out.”
But we both know it’s not that simple. It hasn’t been that simple since he came back.
I apply my makeup with more care than usual, each stroke of mascara and sweep of blush a small act of armor. Cassidy watches from the bed, sipping wine and offering commentary that makes me laugh despite the tightness in my chest.
By the time we’re ready to leave, I look like someone who has her life together. Someone confident and unmoved by the past. Someone who definitely isn’t thinking about how Ronan’s hands felt on her waist, or how his voice broke when he told her to leave.
The Flamingo is packed when we arrive. Friday nights always drew crowds when it was called Sullivan’s, but this is different.
Stepping through the doors feels like crossing a threshold into a different timeline.
The old, scarred bar has been replaced with polished wood and brass.
Where pool tables used to sit, there are now intimate booths with leather seats.
Even the lighting is different, warm and elegant instead of the harsh fluorescents that used to show every stain and scratch.
But underneath the renovation, I can still smell it—the ghost scent of decades of spilled beer and cigarette smoke that no amount of fresh paint can completely erase.
Music drifts from speakers mounted in corners, something jazzy and sophisticated that would never have played in Sullivan’s.
Conversations blend into a pleasant hum of voices, laughter punctuating the rhythm.
My eyes scan the room automatically, cataloging faces, looking for—
I’m not looking for him. I’m not.
“Well.” Cassidy looks around. “They didn’t do this halfway, did they?”
“Booth in the back?” I suggest, already moving.
We slide into the booth, and Cassidy leaves to order drinks. Left alone, I watch the door. Each time it opens, my heart flips. Every time someone else walks through, relief and disappointment war in equal measure.
“You’re doing it again.” Cassidy places a drink in front of me. “That ghost-seeing thing.”
“Sorry. Everything is so different, but still the same in places.”
“Like him?”
“Yeah.” I run my finger around the rim of my glass. “He’s so different now. The way he moves and talks, but his eyes …”
“Are the same?”
“I thought that the first time I saw him, but no.” I think about how he looked at me. “They’re harder now, colder. It makes me think he’s trying to prove something.”
“To you?”
I think about how he looked framed in his doorway, all that prison-built muscle and ink hiding the boy I used to know. “To this whole town.”
I take a sip of my drink, a cocktail made from vodka and elderflower that Sullivan’s would never have served, and let the alcohol burn away the memories that won’t leave me no matter how much I try to force them away.
“Do you think he took Amy and Kate up on their offer the other night?” The question leaves my lips before I can stop it.
She lifts one shoulder. “Not if he has any sense. Those two would eat him alive.”
“I overheard Kate telling at The Jittery Squirrel this morning that he’s meeting them here tonight.” The admission costs me. “What if he does?”
“Then we act like the adults we’ve become.” Cassidy’s voice is firm, but her eyes are gentle. “Adults who have built lives that don’t revolve around the past and high school drama. And if they try anything, I’ll remind them about why they used to be scared of me in cheerleading practice.”
I summon a smile, which fades when the door swings open again. My heart stops, then starts again when a group of people from the bank walk in. Carol from the front desk waves as they pass our booth.
“You know,” Cassidy says a few minutes later. “You are allowed to still care about him, and what happened.”
“What?”
“Lily.” She reaches across the table and catches my hand, squeezing my fingers.
“You spent years becoming someone this town respects instead of whispers about. Building a career, making a difference with those kids, and proving you’re more than what happened in school.
That doesn’t disappear just because seeing him again hurts. ”
I blink hard and reach for my drink.
We fall into easier conversation after that. Cassidy tells me about a custom order she’s working on—matching beds for three elderly pugs whose owner treats them like royalty. I tell her about Marcus’s latest fish palace theory, and how Zack is convinced his pet rock is learning to read.
We’re being normal. Just two friends having drinks on a Friday night, not thinking about the past or the ghosts that walk through it.
The door opens again. Amy enters first, wearing something that probably cost more than my classroom supplies budget for the entire year.
Kate follows, heels clicking against the polished floor.
Both of them walk with the kind of confidence that comes from never being told no.
They scan the room like predators, checking territory, taking in who’s here, who’s watching, and who matters.
Their eyes find us. Amy’s smile sharpens.
“Lily!” Her voice carries across the bar, pitched to turn heads. Several people look up. “What a surprise seeing you here.”
They make their way over, all practiced grace and predatory smiles. Kate’s perfume arrives before she does, something expensive and cloying that makes my head hurt and my stomach clench. Under the table, Cassidy’s knee presses against mine in silent warning to breathe.
“Mind if we join you?” Amy slides into our booth without waiting for an answer, forcing me to shift closer to the wall. Kate follows, boxing us in. “We’re meeting someone, but there’s no reason we can’t wait with friends, right?”
The word friends drips with poisoned honey. My fingers tighten around my glass.
“Actually—” Cassidy starts.
“We won’t stay long,” Kate interrupts, examining her nails. “Just until he gets here.” Her eyes flick to me. “I’m sure you understand.”
Heat crawls up my neck. Amy’s smile widens slightly.
“Such a cute place now, isn’t it?” She looks around. “So much better than when it was Sullivan’s. They really reinvented the place.”
“They certainly did.” Kate’s tone is light in response, but her eyes are sharp. “A lot like some people.” She props her chin on one hand and looks at me. “I mean, look at you. Teacher, pillar of the community. It’s impressive really.”
Cassidy’s hand finds mine under the table, squeezing hard enough to hurt.
“And some people,” Amy adds, leaning back in a way that takes up too much space, “stay exactly who they’ve always been. Just with better packaging.”
As if on cue, the door opens again, and I stop breathing.