CHAPTER NINETEEN
LILA
The hospital smells like bleach and something sweeter, as if it's trying too hard to cover it up. Vanilla maybe. Or Thieves.
I hate it. I hate how familiar it's becoming.
I step into my mom’s room, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
She looks smaller today, as if this place is draining the life from her little by little.
Literally, she looks so weak, like she couldn’t lift something that weighs five pounds.
Fragile, like a brittle plant left too long without water.
And it’s only her first day of chemo. But the moment her eyes find mine, she smiles like I’m the only good thing left in her fading world.
“Hey, sweetie,” she whispers. I blink back the burn rising in my throat and force a smile. “Hey, Mom.”
A framed photo catches my eye. It’s of us at the beach, sitting beside her hospital bed like a forgotten memory.
Her hair is windblown, her smile bright and carefree.
I barely recognize her. But I remember that woman.
And I know she’s still in there somewhere.
Aster practically launches across the room and pulls me into a hug.
“How did the interview go? We’ve been dying to know!”
I lean into her ear and whisper, “It was a shit show. Drive me home and I’ll tell you everything.”
Aster narrows her eyes, trying to read my face.
If only she knew. My body has whiplash from Beck and Kage, and I’m not sure if I need a therapist… or a cold shower .
I give her a tight-lipped smile and nod toward my mom, silently asking her to play along. “It was great, Mom. I got the job and I start tomorrow.”
She exhales slowly, like even talking takes effort. “That’s great, honey. I knew you would get the job. You have worked incredibly hard for this opportunity.”
I move toward her carefully, like one wrong move might break her, and sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling after your first treatment?”
“I’m feeling pretty good,” she says, but her eyes lie straight to my face.
I take her hand gently, my thumb brushing soft circles over her knuckles. “It’s okay to not be okay. This is hard and—”
Aster kneels beside her and takes her other hand, finishing my sentence for me. “We just want to be here for you. You’ve always been there for us. And we love you.”
A tear slips down Mom’s cheek. I wipe it away before it falls. “I love you girls. I’m so glad you have each other.”
Aster and I share a look, silent but solid. She squeezes my hand. “I love you, sis.”
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
“Ladies, can I come in?” Dad’s voice drifts from the doorway. He steps inside, holding a tray like it’s sacred. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup. Your mom’s favorite.”
I smile, soft and bittersweet. God, I hope someday I have someone who loves me like that.
“Come in,” Aster says warmly.
“Oh, honey, thank you,” Mom murmurs. “But the chemo’s made me so nauseous. I can’t eat right now…”
“Mom, please try to eat. You need to stay strong,” I say softly. “If you’d rather, I can pick up some protein shakes and bring them back tonight. ”
“I’m trying, darling.” She pauses, looking down at her thin fingers. “Go ahead and bring them tomorrow, and I’ll try… for you.”
“Wait… you’re not going home?”
“Unfortunately, not. The chemo trial requires inpatient observation. I’ll be here for six months.”
Six months.
This sterile, humming place. The bright lights. The quiet suffering. The too-white walls.
This is her world now.
Aster moves beside me and laces her fingers through mine. She doesn’t say a word, but her touch says everything.
“Okay, Mom,” I whisper. “We’ll be here. Every step of the way.” I smile, but it feels like cracked porcelain. My chest aches with everything I’m not saying, but at least she’s fighting. At least she’s still here. She is trying.
If I have to scrub Beck’s floors for the rest of my life to keep her alive, I will. If I have to work under Clint and eat every ounce of pride, I will. If Kage wants to yell at me every day, I’ll take it with a smile because she’s my rock. And I’ll do anything to keep her here with me.
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
The second we hit a red light, Aster throws her head back and groans. “If you don’t tell me what happened in that interview, I swear I’ll crash this car into Beck’s building.”
“Girl,” I mumble, slumping lower in my seat, “they saw everything in the maze. What I did to Clint. What I did with the Red Mask…”
Her jaw drops. “You’re kidding. Wait, what did you do to Clint? When did you even see him? ”
“I forgot to tell you. Clint was dressed up as one of the monsters in the maze. He decided to screw with me and basically called me worthless. Said I only made it this far because I use you. So I pulled the taser from my purse and zapped him once, and I was about to aim for the balls when he mentioned he could get me a job at Heartford’s… so I let him email Beck.”
Her contagious laugh echoes through the Mercedes, and I can’t help but laugh with her. “Oh my gosh, Lila! That’s freaking epic. Don’t even think about feeling bad. He totally deserved it, and you know it. God, I only wish you’d done that to him in college!”
“Yeah, me too. But here’s the kicker. Clint is supposedly their best employee… and now I have to work under him, and now he’s my manager.”
“What the hell! That doesn’t sound like Beck!”
“Because it wasn’t him. It was the one who shall not be named, or he might show up and make a scene.”
She looks at me, confused. “Umm… who is that?”
“Kage. The grade-A asshole who hates me for no reason.”
“Lila,” she says, eyes wide, “I absolutely love you so much, but you have the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“You’re telling me! I wanted to melt into the damn floor and slip out under the door.”
“What did you say? Did you at least apologize?”
“No. I held my ground. And now I have to clean Beck’s house once a week and work under Clint for a year.”
Aster whistles low. “Damn. That’s cold. How do these things always happen to you?” She’s cackling now, full-on laughing like it’s the best story she’s ever heard.
“It’s not funny,” I say, even though I’m already laughing too .
“Just resign,” she says, wiping her eyes. “My family will cover your Mom’s treatment.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I need to do this. For me.”
“I’ve never really asked… why does working there matter so much to you?”
She’s right. She never has. And I never came up with a lie because I hoped I’d never have to.
I’m a terrible liar. But I can’t tell her the truth.
Not about that night. Not about what really happened.
It would destroy her. And if I had told her back then, her family might have gotten involved.
He could have come after them. And if anything had happened to them because of me, I wouldn’t have survived the guilt.
What do I even say…
“I had a distant cousin who was kidnapped,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “They rescued her.”
Her expression softens. “Oh wow. That makes sense. You want to help others the way they helped her.”
“Exactly.”
She doesn’t know that it’s because of that night. She doesn’t know how badly I want to reclaim what was taken from me. And I will never put that weight on her shoulders.
She nods and grabs my hand. “Still… if they mess with you again, I’m kicking Kage’s designer-wrapped ass.”
I smirk. “I think you should date him. You’ve got the same energy. Hot. Wicked. Mildly unhinged.”
She snorts. “We’d either kill each other or elope in Vegas.”
I laugh. “Double date. You and Kage. Beck and I.”
She rolls her eyes. “That sounds like an HR violation waiting to happen.”
My phone buzzes in my lap. Once. Twice. Three times.
I glance down.
UNKNOWN : Good luck tomorrow, Princess. Try not to think about me too much. Will you be at the club this weekend? I want to finish what we started…
My breath catches. Princess.
The word hits me like a live wire. My heart slams against my ribs. Heat spreads beneath my skin like wildfire. I stare at the message.
Then reread it. And again. There’s only one person I gave my number to today.
Beck. It has to be him. The way he kissed my hand.
The way he looked at me was like I was something he had been searching for.
The way he made me feel like I mattered.
But… he looked confused when he saw me, as if he didn’t recognize me at all.
Could he really be the man in the red mask? Was it him in the pleasure room? My stomach twists. Because if it’s not Beck… Then who the hell is it?
My fingers hover over the screen. Should I reply? Should I ask him? Should I confront him? Or should I admit what I already know?
Whoever this is… He’s still watching. Still waiting. Still wanting more… More of me.
And I think a part of me wants to be wanted like that again.