Chapter 5
Ryder
“Howdy, Lily!” Agatha’s British accent is at odds with her words, and it’s all I can do not to burst into laughter, hiding in this tiny closet. Lily was so determined, I had to follow along with her plan to keep me hidden. But I’m sure she’s overreacting.
Right?
“Howdy, Aunt,” Lily replies. “I thought you’d be gone all morning. What are you doing back already?”
Oh, Lily. Play it cool!
But I’m not sure she knows what that means. Cool doesn’t seem to be a word in Lily’s vocabulary, considering the way she panicked at seeing me, gave me a weird rundown of everything she’s done while “hiding out,” and let’s not forget her playing the paper piano.
She seems…quirky.
And for some reason…I like it.
I didn’t recognize her at first, especially out of context, but once I realized she’s Peter’s sister, I remembered her from the video chat Peter did with his family a few months back. She was cute on the screen, but in person, she’s mesmerizing.
Is she the type of girl who normally catches my eye? Absolutely not. I’m usually into the smooth, cool, collected woman. Like the mermaid actresses at the resort when I stayed with Peter. They were exactly what I usually look for. Tall, graceful, with smiles that make men weak in the knees.
And yet, something about Lily has me completely enraptured. She’s so…full of life.
“I was at the market,” Agatha replies, “and realized I forgot my wallet! Can you believe it?”
“Nope. I cannot believe it.” Now Lily sounds like a robot. I half-cringe, half-chuckle.
“Ah, I see you took my suggestion to make a paper piano.”
“Yeah. That was…”
“Brilliant?” Agatha supplies.
“Misguided,” Lily replies.
I can’t help the laugh that rolls out of my chest. I hold it in as much as possible, trying not to make a sound, but in the process, I knock something over in the closet. It’s small—a picture frame, I think.
“What was that?” Agatha asks.
“Uh, nothing!” Lily says, her voice now high-pitched and squeaky.
“Did something fall?” Agatha says, her voice now closer.
“Maybe it’s a cat!” Lily says.
“A cat? How would a cat get up here?”
“You’re the one who insisted on opening the balcony doors!”
I can hear their footsteps rushing over to the closet. Crap. They’re going to open the door, and Agatha will see me hiding here. It’s even worse than if I were just in the middle of the room when she got here. Now she’ll suspect me of being here and…I don’t even know what.
Considering how afraid Lily is, they’re keeping her from something that they consider a serious threat. And I don’t want to add anything to her anxiety.
Thankfully, I’m a stuntman. And I live for these moments.
I size up the closet I’m in, realizing that the far end is enclosed by two walls about two feet apart.
I can scale this, no problem. With my back up against one wall, I put my feet on the opposite wall and quickly shimmy up to the top.
I hold my position and my breath as the closet door slides open.
If Agatha looks up and to the right, she’ll see me right there. But instead, she looks down at the ground for whatever fell, and finds the answer—the picture frame. “Oh, no,” she murmurs, picking it up off the ground. “The glass is cracked.”
“It was already cracked,” Lily says. “Adam brought it that way.”
“You’re sure?” Agatha sighs, wistful.
My thighs begin to shake. I’m not used to this much physical activity after a year off from work, which is a problem. First scaling the tower, now shimmying up this closet. I’m going to be sore tomorrow.
“Your mother was so beautiful,” Agatha says.
“I think so, too,” Lily says, but I hear a little shake in her voice.
“But why did this fall?” Agatha says, stepping into the closet, but Lily pushes her out before she can get in too far.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Lily says quickly, and she sets the picture back down on the ground, then slides the closet door shut.
I finally exhale, but I don’t completely relax.
I can’t just jump down from my perch, giving Agatha another reason to check up here.
Despite the shake in my legs, I slowly inch my way down the wall as Agatha and Lily move to the kitchen, Lily loudly describing their search for Agatha’s wallet.
Back on the ground, I breathe a sigh of relief and glance at the floor, seeing the picture frame that started this whole debacle.
I pick it up. Sure enough, the glass is cracked.
It’s a picture of a family—Peter and Lily’s family.
Dad, mom, three boys, and a little girl with long blonde hair and a bright grin.
This is the Lily I remember. She’s pretty small here, maybe four years old?
Which would make Peter…twelve? And that’s the age he was when we first met.
The first summer we hung out, I was nine years old, angry and mischievous, and he was happy to take me under his wing.
While he was protective of his baby sister, he wasn’t above messing with her things.
Looking at the picture, I can almost hear her high-pitched, “Peee-TERRR!!!” when she’d find a Barbie hanging in the kitchen cabinet, or when he’d make up fake rules for the house, like that she had to hop on one leg before she could go to the bathroom.
But she’s not a baby anymore. I can clearly see that.
I didn’t think anything of her back then.
Peter’s family would leave after the summer and come back the next year.
As Lily got older, she made her own friends and didn’t try to hang around us anymore, and she was only a preteen at the time.
Since I left Brookhaven when I was eighteen, I’ve only visited a few times and must not have overlapped with her visits, because I would have noticed her.
It would be impossible not to notice her.
“I can’t find your wallet anywhere,” I hear Lily say. “Are you sure you left it up here? Maybe it’s down in your room.”
“No, no, it’s not there.” A moment’s pause, and then Agatha cries, “Aha! Here it is!”
“In your purse?” Lily asks. “You had it this whole time?”
Agatha just laughs. “I suppose so. Silly me. Well, I’ll be going now. See you this afternoon! Don’t forget, chicken couscous soup tonight!” I hear her steps, a heavy door opening and closing, and then the pitter-patter of light feet in my direction.
The closet door flies open, and Lily’s eyes are wide as she looks down at me. “Where did you go?”
I point up at the corner of the closet. “Shimmied up there.”
“Genius.” She breathes a sigh of relief, then holds out her hand for the picture I still hold in my grasp. I hand it to her, our fingers brushing in the process.
If she’s affected by it the way I am, she doesn’t show it.
But I get goosebumps all down my arm, and I rub my forearm to keep her from seeing.
She sighs when she looks down at the picture, a yearning look in her eyes, and walks across the room, setting it on the tiny kitchen table.
But she snaps out of it suddenly and looks at me. “All right. You can leave now.”
“Wait, what?” I unfold myself out of the closet and stand, shaking my legs out a little. “I just got here.”
“And you’re not supposed to be here.” She puts her hands on her hips, then awkwardly switches to crossing her arms over her chest, then switches back to one hand on her hip and the other dangling at her side.
Is she trying to look intimidating? Because she looks as fearsome as a fluffy bunny in her pajamas and slippers.
I look back over at the picture on the table and notice a mess of beads. “What are you making over here?” I ask, walking over to take a closer look.
“None of your business!” She rushes behind me, but I make it there first.
“Friendship bracelets?” I ask. I turn to face her and see one on her wrist. “Want to make me one?”
She snorts in derision. “Sorry, but no.”
“Come on. It could say something cool, like ‘stunt man’ or ‘tough guy.’”
She just rolls her eyes, but a small smirk betrays her amusement. “Seriously, you need to leave.”
“But you haven’t explained why you’re here,” I say.
“Feel free to call Peter and find out,” she says. “Now go.” She gestures at the balcony.
“I have to climb down? Can’t I use the door?”
“There’s no door,” she says, but the slight quiver in her voice tells me she’s lying.
“Really? I doubt Agatha climbed down the balcony. And I’m pretty sure we heard some footsteps up the stairs.”
She doesn’t answer, but her eyes flick toward the bookshelf, then back to me.
My mouth drops open. “Secret door?”
“And that’s your cue,” she says, and she starts shoving me toward the window. If I wanted, I could stand still in place. But I let her push me along, stepping backwards until I bump against the wall.
Apparently she wasn’t gauging the distance, because she bumps right into me.
Instinctively, my hands go to her waist to steady her.
My grin falls as I look down at her face, so close to mine, just a breath away.
I linger for a moment. She feels so right in my hands, her slight waist within my grip.
My eyes drop to her lips, and I wonder, for just a moment, what it would be like to kiss her.
Apparently she’s not having the same thoughts. Her blue eyes flash up to mine, anger flaring. She shoves her hands against my chest, pushing herself away from me and out of my grasp. I hold my hands up in a surrender gesture. “Just trying to keep you from falling,” I say, my grin back in place.
“I wasn’t going to fall,” she hisses back.
“That’s not how it looked to me.”
She glances at the window and bites her lip. “Will you be okay climbing down?”
“Yeah. It’s really not as bad as it seems. You’d probably be able to do it, too. If you tried.”
Her eyes widen even more. “I would never.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Maybe it’s past time for you to leave.”
“Fine.” I turn and open the door to the balcony, but before I can step outside, I feel her hand on my arm.
“Wait!” she says.
I turn to face her, and now her face is etched with worry. She’s so expressive; everything she feels is right there in her eyes. “You won’t tell anyone I’m up here, right?”
“Does it matter?” I ask.
“Yes! I’m here for a reason! No one can know that I’m here, or he might find out, and…” She bites her lip again and looks like she’s about to cry.
“Hey.” I step closer and put my hands gently on her shoulders. “I won’t say anything. Okay? I’ll tell them it was a troll after all.”
She sniffs and smiles despite being on the verge of tears. “Thank you.” She swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sorry for being crazy.”
“You’re not… Okay, you might be a little crazy. But it’s not bad.”
She snorts a laugh, and I grin at her, finally a moment where it doesn’t feel like we’re at odds with each other.
“All right. You should go.” She says the words, but this time I feel like she doesn’t really mean them.
“I can come back,” I say.
She blinks at me and tilts her head. “Why would you do that?”
Good question, Lily. I don’t think I can tell her the real reason—that she’s intriguing, more than any woman I’ve been around in years. That she’s giving me a run for my money, and I like it. That her facial expressions alone have me entranced, and that I feel a strange protectiveness over her.
But to her, I just say, “You’re Peter’s little sister. I’m sure he’d want you to have some company.”
“Oh.” She deflates a little. “Yeah. Of course. No, it’s fine. Don’t come.”
“And leave you to your paper piano?”
She cringes. “Don’t worry. I won’t be attempting that again.”
“Good idea.” We stand in silence for a moment before I decide it’s time to go. “All right. I’ll head down.”
She presses her lips together and nods, and I walk out onto the balcony. Looking over the edge, I see that the kids aren’t gathered around anymore. They must have gotten bored waiting, or they scattered when Agatha came home. Either way, there’s no one to report back to.
Before making my descent, I slide my hand in my pocket and grip Galileo tightly.
Then I climb down the tower, and at the bottom, take a moment to look back up to the top, hoping I’ll get one more glimpse of Lily but knowing she won’t show herself.
And I feel a determination to figure out why she’s up there… and how to get her out.