Chapter 15 Tigerlily
Chapter Fifteen: Tigerlily
I wake up to the sound of my dad’s voice down the hall.
He’s talking on the phone in that smooth, reasonable tone he uses with other people. The one that makes him sound like a concerned father instead of what he actually is.
I stare at the ceiling. Zinnia’s asleep next to me, her arm thrown over my stomach. She hasn’t let me go for the past week.
My new phone sits on the nightstand without a case. I still haven’t shopped for one, knowing that this one might break in his hand, too.
I slide out of bed carefully so I don’t wake Zinnia and walk to the bathroom. I splash water on my face and stare at myself in the mirror.
I look tired.
The daily routine starts the same way it always does now. I make breakfast. Scrambled eggs for Zinnia, toast for my dad, coffee black the way he likes it. I don’t eat. My stomach’s been a knot for days.
“Good morning,” he says when I set his plate down.
“Morning.”
“Sleep well?”
“Yeah.”
He takes a bite and nods. “This is good. You’re getting better at cooking.”
I don’t respond as I turn back to the stove to clean up.
“I’m leaving for work in twenty minutes,” he continues. “Make sure Zinnia gets to school on time.”
“I will.”
“And don’t forget—you’re picking her up today. I’ll be late.”
“Okay.”
He finishes his coffee. Stands. Adjusts his tie in the hallway mirror.
“Tigerlily.”
I turn. “Yeah?”
“You’ve been good this week. I appreciate that.”
My throat tightens. “Thanks.”
“Keep it up.”
He leaves.
I exhale for what feels like the first time all morning.
Zinnia shuffles into the kitchen in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah.”
She climbs onto the stool at the counter. “Can I have pancakes instead?”
I almost smile. “Sure.”
By the time I drop Zinnia off at school and make it to campus, I’m already exhausted. My first class is English Lit—Victorian novels this quarter. I thought being an English major would mean writing. Creating stories. Pouring myself onto the page.
Instead, it’s reading. Endless reading.
Dickens. Bronte. Eliot. Dense paragraphs about social structures and moral ambiguity and women trapped by circumstances they didn’t choose.
I underline a passage in my copy of Jane Eyre.
“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me.”
I close the book.
That night, dinner is quiet.
My dad sits at the head of the table. Zinnia and I sit on either side. I made spaghetti—his favorite.
“How was school?” he asks Zinnia.
“Good. We’re learning about fractions.”
“Smart girl.” He looks at me. “And you?”
“Fine. Lots of reading.”
“Reading.” He says it like it’s not a real answer. “What’re you reading?”
“Jane Eyre.”
He snorts. “That old thing? What’s the point of that?”
“It’s for class.”
“Waste of time if you ask me. You should be learning something useful. Business. Accounting. Something that’ll actually get you a job.”
I stab a piece of pasta with my fork. “English majors get jobs.”
“Doing what? Working at a bookstore?”
Zinnia looks between us. I can see her shoulders tensing.
I don’t respond and keep eating.
“And what about your friends?” he continues. “Are you seeing anyone these days?”
“Just Elle.”
“Elle.” He says her name like it tastes bad. “The one who helped you run off.”
“I didn’t run off.”
“You disappeared for two days, Tigerlily. That’s running off.”
I set my fork down.
“And those boys,” he says casually. Too casually. “The hockey players. You still thinking about them?”
I freeze.
“I don’t know them, Dad.”
“Boys like that.” He stares at me. “They’ll tell girls like you all the things you want to hear and then leave you heartbroken.”
Girls like you. That does it.
I turn to him and say, “I don’t know what you mean.
My life is boring.” I place my phone on the table and slide it to him.
“Check my phone. Read my texts. Look at my Instagram. Look at my locations. I take Zinnia to school, I go to class, I pick her up, I grab grocery pick-up sometimes, and then I come home. There are no boys. And there will be no heartbreak. You and Zinnia are all that I have.”
He has a smug look on his face as he slides my phone back. It’s like he’s happy to hear that he’s caged me completely and knows I truly have no one out there who cares about me.
He says, “I believe you, Lily, but don’t be upset that I’m trying to warn you.”
I glare at him.
I could leave tonight.
The thought hits me so suddenly, I almost say it out loud.
I could pack a bag, walk out that door, and never come back.
Then I look at Zinnia.
She’s staring at her plate, pushing spaghetti around with her fork. Her face is pale. She looks small.
And I know that I could never leave her.
After dinner, I clear the table, rinse the plates, and load the dishwasher.
My dad retreats to his room. Zinnia goes to do homework.
I stand at the front window, staring out at the street.
Are they out there?
The thought creeps in before I can stop it.
Are Jax and Zephyr sitting in a car somewhere watching the house? Are they thinking about me?
I stare aimlessly.
It’s been days, and reality hits me hard. They wouldn’t remember a girl like me. I’m not memorable. I’m not worth knowing. When I took their offer to stay the night, that was the highlight of my college experience.
I won’t experience that ever again.
I want to be okay with that.
But I’m not.
Because I want more. I want lightness. I want to laugh without worrying about who’s listening. I want to feel safe, to feel like I matter, to have the freedom to be myself without worrying if I’m going to be hit for not obeying an order.
A hand touches my shoulder, so I jump.
“Sorry.” Zinnia’s standing behind me, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”
I force a smile. “Yeah.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods.
“Hey, Zinnia.”
She looks up at me.
I lean down so we’re eye to eye and lower my voice to a whisper: “I need to ask you something.”
She waits, and my heart pounds. I’ve avoided this question for days now, even though it’s eating at me.
I whisper, “Did you tell Dad about Jax and Zeff?”
Zinnia stills. Her eyes go wide, but she shakes her head quickly at the sound of their names.
“I didn’t,” she whispers. “I promise.”
I want to believe her.
But I see the way her hands fidget. The way she won’t hold my gaze for more than a second.
“Okay,” I say softly. “Go to bed.”
She walks down the hall and closes her door.
I stand, staring out the window again.
She’s lying.
I don’t know how I know. I just do.
And the worst part? I was hoping she’d admit it. If she told me the truth—if she said yes, I told Dad—then I’d have a reason to leave. I’d have permission to go.
Because if both my dad and my sister betrayed me, then I’d have nothing left to stay for.
But she didn’t admit it.
So I’m stuck, even though I feel it in my gut that she told him.
I go to my room, sit on my bed, and stare at the wall.
Staying isn’t fixing anything.
At what point, am I going to leave?
On Friday, Elle catches me between classes.
“Hey! You want to hang out tonight?”
I hesitate. “I’d have to ask my dad first.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re twenty, Lily.”
“I know. But—”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. I’m having a bunch of girls over. We’ll play games, eat junk food, watch the hockey game.”
I freeze.
The hockey game.
My stomach flips at the thought. The last hockey game was memorable in every way I want to forget, but it’s also the night I met Jax and Zephyr.
“I’ll ask my dad,” I say quickly.
“Great! Text me.”
She walks off, and I’m left standing there with my books clutched to my chest and my heart racing.
For the rest of the day, I’m visualizing talking to my dad. How I’m going to approach him, what I’ll say, the attitude and tone I’ll have. My mind’s toast by the time I get home, but I build up the nerve. Now I just need to wait for the right time.
My dad’s in the living room watching TV.
“Dad?”
He doesn’t look up. “Yeah.”
“Can I go to Elle’s tonight? She’s having people over.”
“No.”
I blink. “What?”
“No.”
“But—”
He looks at me now. “I said no, Lily.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re still grounded.”
I keep myself from sighing. “For how long?”
He shrugs and turns back to the TV.
“Dad.”
“Lily.”
“Are you saying no because I’m grounded, or no like... ever?”
He looks at me again. Mocks my tone. “Like ever.”
I feel my face heat, so I turn toward my room.
“Lily.”
I stop. “Yes?”
“You’re watching Zinnia tonight. I’ll be gone for a while. Don’t wait up.”
“Okay.” I nod.
He nods once.
I walk to my room and text Elle.
Me: Can’t come over. Sorry.
Elle: Boo.
I hear my dad leave thirty minutes later. The front door closes. His car starts and drives away.
Zinnia appears in my doorway, grinning. “Dad left. What’re we going to do tonight?”
I smile. A real one this time.
“Maybe something a little different.”
Zinnia bounces on her toes. “Like what?”
I pull out my phone and call Elle.
“Hey, can you come here instead?” I dare to ask.
Elle pauses. “Will your dad be there?”
I look at Zinnia. She’s practically vibrating with excitement.
I raise my eyebrows. “Actually, he’ll be gone all night.”
Elle laughs. “Okay, let me call the girls and see what they think.”
An hour later, my living room is full of girls.
Elle brought three friends—Hailey, Madison, and Peyton. I know Hailey from passing in the English building. Madison I’ve seen at the library. Peyton’s new.
They’re loud. Laughing. Spreading snacks across the coffee table like they own the place.
I love it.
“Okay, so what’re we playing?” Hailey asks.
Elle pulls out a box. “Catan.”
Madison groans. “I always lose at Catan.”
“That’s because you don’t build roads,” Peyton says.
“Roads are boring. I want cities.”
“You can’t have cities without roads, genius.”
We set up the board. Zinnia watches from the couch, fascinated. The girl’s invite her over and set her up.
The game starts slow. I’m terrible at strategy, so I just build whatever looks good. Hailey’s cutthroat. Elle’s scheming. Madison’s chaos.
“I’m trading three sheep for literally anything that’s not a sheep,” Madison announces.
“No one wants your sheep,” Peyton says.
“Rude.”
Then Elle pulls out her phone. “Now for Tigerlily’s favorite part.”
I freeze. “What?”
She screen-shares her phone to the TV mounted on the wall, and the hockey game appears.
My face burns.
“What do you mean, her favorite part?” Hailey asks.
Elle grins. “She knows a few of the players.”
“Wait, what?” Madison leans forward. “You know hockey players?”
“I don’t—”
“I met them too!” Zinnia pipes up, trading with Madison.
“Spill,” Peyton demands. “Now. I’ll trade a few of these with you.”
Zinnia nods a bit too eagerly.
“It’s not a big deal,” I mutter.
“Not a big deal?” Elle laughs.
Zinnia says, “She didn’t come home that night.”
The girls erupt.
“WHAT?”
“Are you serious?”
“Which ones?”
I bury my face in my hands.
Elle or Zinnia doesn’t give details—thank God—but she tells them enough that now they’re all glued to the TV, trying to figure out which players I know. Then they give up after a while because I keep my mouth zipped.
The game plays in the background. We keep playing Catan, but my eyes keep drifting to the screen.
Number 39.
Jax.
I watch him skate. He’s fast and aggressive. He’s got the puck and he’s weaving through defenders like they’re not even there.
I wish I knew Zephyr’s number. Callum’s too.
The game ends. The team loses.
The girls groan.
“They were so close,” Hailey says.
“Number 39 played insane though,” Madison adds.
I don’t say anything, just stare at the screen as the players skate off the ice.
We keep playing Catan, eating popcorn drizzled in dark chocolate with sea salt sprinkled on top. Elle made it, and it’s perfect—sweet and salty and so good I can’t stop eating it.
I lose Catan spectacularly.
But I don’t care.
Because for the first time in days, I feel light.