Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Things I Couldn’t Admit
Lilly
My eyes snapped open to darkness. I didn’t know where I was for a moment—the sheets beneath me smooth and cool, the mattress too firm, the ceiling too high. Then I felt it. The steady weight of an arm slung heavy around my waist, the heat of a body pressed close to mine.
Sawyer.
The clock on his nightstand glowed 4:52. Too early for anyone in Lovelace to be awake, except maybe ranchers and insomniacs, which made me the latter.
I held my breath and tilted my head just enough to look at him. He was still asleep, his face softened, mouth parted slightly. No shadows in his expression, no sharp edges. Just peace. It caught me off guard. I didn’t know men like him could look anything but guarded.
I told myself to move. Get up, get dressed, get out before he woke up. This was supposed to be simple, like it had been in Hawaii—heat without the fallout. Not mornings like this, with my heart trying to climb into my throat.
I slid carefully out from under his arm, easing myself off the bed.
The floor was cold against my bare feet, a shock that kept me focused.
I scooped my negligée off the bathroom floor, slipped it back on, then pulled my coat around me.
The silk brushed against my skin under the rough wool, sending an unwanted ripple of heat low in my belly.
No. Not now.
I didn’t need another reminder of what us felt like.
I bent for my purse, ready to bolt. Then—
“Lilly?” His voice, low and rough with sleep, stopped me mid-step.
I froze, coat half-buttoned, purse strap dangling from my shoulder. “Hey,” I whispered, turning just enough to see him push up on one elbow, hair a mess, eyes heavy but sharp now.
“You’re leaving?” His voice carried no accusation, just surprise.
“I have to,” I said quickly, fumbling with the last button on my coat. “Sunny’s waiting on me. And I’ve got to open the shop.”
“Who’s Sunny?”
“My dog,” I whispered, aware that we really didn’t know each other. Maybe that would come later, or maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, I couldn’t get enough of the part of Sawyer I was sampling.
He studied me in the dim light, eyes narrowing just slightly. Then the corner of his mouth tugged in that lazy, knowing way.
“At my place tonight?” I asked before I could stop myself, the words rushing out like I had to stake the claim before my courage fizzled.
He didn’t bother answering. Just gave me a slow, sly nod.
I forced a smile, pulling my coat tighter. “I’ll keep the door unlocked. Just… be careful where you park, or the neighbors will start talking.”
His low chuckle followed me as I slipped out the door, my pulse still racing from more than just the need to get home.
My head throbbed as I drove with my headlights off until I reached the main road, paranoid that some early riser living on Lucky Ranch might spot my car slipping away from Sawyer's place.
As I navigated the winding road home, the lake appeared and disappeared through the trees, its surface black as oil in the pre-dawn darkness. Each curve put more distance between the woman I'd been last night and whoever I was becoming this morning.
Several minutes later, I arrived at my cabin, with only the faintest glow of dawn brushing the horizon behind it.
Sunny was curled up on the couch when I slipped inside, her tail thumping once against the cushion before she hopped down and padded over to me.
Relief loosened something tight in my chest.
“See? I told you I wouldn’t be gone long,” I murmured, grabbing some Ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. She gave me a sleepy look that said I was still on thin ice, then whined until I opened the back door and let her out.
While she nosed around the yard, I filled her bowl with kibble, topped off her water, then braced myself against the counter.
My reflection glared back at me from the kitchen window—coat half buttoned over last night’s silk.
I shoved the memory away, hung the coat on the hook, and moved through my morning motions like muscle memory could erase the evidence.
Shower. Coffee. Lip gloss. A quick braid to hide the tangle in my hair.
By the time Sunny scratched at the back door to come in, the first pale gold streaks of sunrise stretched over the lake, painting the water in broken light.
She trotted in, shook off, and stuck to my heels as I gathered my purse.
My phone buzzed across the counter. I grabbed it, ready for another message from Martin, but it wasn’t him.
Emma: Lunch today? My treat. Haven’t seen you since forever.
Me: Absolutely. You’re a Godsend.
I grinned and sighed. Normal. Safe. Exactly what I needed—an hour to talk about something other than bills and bad decisions.
“It’s time to go to work, girl,” I told Sunny, clipping on her leash. She wagged her tail so hard her whole body wiggled.
Maybe today I could convince myself that last night was just a blip. Just a distraction. Nothing more.
Who are you fooling? What about tonight?
When we made our way into Lovelace, the pavement had dried from yesterday’s rain, and Main Street was waking up.
Trucks angled along the curb, a couple of old-timers nursed coffee outside the diner, and the café on the corner was already buzzing.
I hadn’t seen Emma since I got back from Arizona.
The timing felt like a lifeline. Normal.
Easy. The exact opposite of what I’d done last night.
The glass door to the diner opened with a swish, and I stepped in. The smell of meatloaf and vegetable soup wrapped around me like a blanket I didn’t deserve.
Emma was already there, waving me over with a smile that could power the whole town. She was all sunshine and polished hair, her scarf tossed artfully over one shoulder, a stack of historical society brochures on the table beside her coffee.
“There she is,” Emma said, popping up to hug me, all bright scarf and cinnamon-sugar perfume. “You look good. Tired, but good. Your trip must’ve treated you well.”
I slid into the booth across from her, pasting on a smile I didn’t quite feel.
“It was… fine. Hot. Dry. Mom and Dad needed some help with finances. And, well—Dad just had heart surgery. He won’t admit how much it’s slowed him down, but I could see it.
He can’t even change a lightbulb without breaking into a sweat. Now, I’m stretched too thin.”
Emma’s expression softened, her hand still wrapped around her coffee mug. “Sweetheart, let me help you figure it out.”
I traced the rim of my cup. “I’m getting behind on the shop bills.”
Emma reached across the table, covering my hand with hers.
“You’ve always been the one to take care of everybody.
But you can’t set yourself on fire to keep everyone else warm.
” She gave me a look. “You know there are other options, right? You could get a little breathing room with a credit card advance. Just enough to ease the squeeze until business picks up.”
I let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh. “You’re telling me I’ve been tearing my hair out over tulip bills when I could’ve just gone by the ATM? Lord, I should’ve known that. I swear, sometimes I’m my own worst enemy.”
Her smile softened into something sly. “Speaking of enemies… or maybe frenemies… was that Sawyer James I saw leaving your shop yesterday? You, Easton, and Sawyer went on that cruise with the others, didn’t you? Spill, girl. How much fun did you really have with those cowboys?”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “First of all, I wasn’t hanging out with both of them on the cruise. Easton’s your crush, not mine.”
Her cheeks went pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, you don’t,” I teased, grinning. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
She arched a brow. “And yours?”
My stomach dropped. I should’ve deflected. Should’ve laughed it off. But Emma had always been the one person I could unload on without feeling like I’d shattered some image of myself I had to maintain. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I… I slept with Sawyer. On the cruise.”
Her eyes went wide, then narrow with wicked delight. “Oh, Lilly Mitchell. And here I thought you were still pining from a distance.”
“Yeah, well.” I twisted my napkin in my lap. “It just… happened. And it might… happen again.”
Emma leaned in, lowering her voice. “Then you need to be careful. Sawyer’s a good man, but you know what they say about him. Afghanistan left its mark. He’s not built for forever. Fun is one thing. A baby? That’s another.”
Her words hit harder than she realized. I kept the smile on my face, but my stomach dipped, heavy and low. Because all I could think about was the little white packet still buried in my purse—the Plan B pill I’d bought after Hawaii.
The one I never took.
I shoved the thought down deep, swallowing against the knot in my throat. The rest of lunch slid by in a blur of town gossip, easy laughter, and promises that we’d do this more often.
Emma nudged me with her hip as we slid out of the booth. “You’re coming to the twins’ birthday party, right? Don’t make me hunt you down.”
I forced a grin, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Even if that world would include Sawyer James being there too.
When I got back to the shop, the sun was sliding west, painting Main Street in honeyed light. I moved through the motions—restocking tulips, trimming stems, pretending to focus.
Sunny padded at my feet, her head resting on my shoe as if to anchor me. Emma’s warning wouldn’t leave me, circling tighter until it pressed beneath my ribs.
I told myself I felt fine. Told myself Sawyer had been careful last night. Told myself one missed pill wasn’t the end of the world.
But deep down, under all our confessions and laughter, I knew Emma was right. There were things I couldn’t say to anyone—not to her, and definitely not to him. And those things weren’t going away.