Chapter Twenty Barrett #2
Lily’s eyes were bright with tears, but she held them in, unblinking as she studied my face with the slightest look of confusion. “Why?”
Moments like this didn’t happen very often. Where even the air between us, as it fell in pieces from the sky, felt fragile and precious. Lying to her did me no good. And I didn’t want to.
“Because I want to be there.”
The waiting room at the emergency vet was quiet. Only one other couple was off in the corner, laughing at something they were watching on their phone. The room was clean and bright—black-and-white photos of cats and dogs on the wall. Paw prints painted in a crooked line underneath.
I sent my mom a text letting her know why I was gone with no notice, and she promised they’d explain to Griffin and Ruby when they arrived from the airport. Resting my elbows on my knees, I leaned forward and set my head in my hands.
On the drive over, Lily had stayed quiet.
Not just quiet—she was dry-eyed as she asked me to wait in the lobby, dry-eyed as she followed a vet tech down a hallway, disappearing behind a glossy black door with the number 5 painted on the placard on the wall.
She’d shut down, and I couldn’t blame her.
Discomfort sat like an anchor on my chest, like my insides were being stretched in two very different directions. There was no foundation between us that might warrant my presence in that room, but damn if I didn’t want to be there.
My mom sent a text not long after Lily went into the exam room. She’d told the kids, and they were sad, but Griffin and Ruby’s arrival helped. They were settled in the guest room, and she’d order pizza for dinner. Enough for Lily, too, if she wanted to join, she said.
I shook my head. Subtle as a freight train.
A door opened, and I lifted my head, but it was a redheaded woman cuddling a black-and-white puppy on a leash. My shoulders fell, and I had to cover my mouth with one hand as I waited. Patience, in moments like this, was not my strong suit.
Doing nothing was even worse.
But sometimes doing nothing was the best thing you could do for someone. Being there was doing something. Even if it meant waiting. Even if it meant being perfectly fine that she didn’t say a single word.
Another door opened. The soft murmuring of voices reached my ears.
It was door number 5.
Slowly, I stood, waiting for her to leave the room. The vet tech came out first, her eyes downcast. Lily was behind her, face pale and her coat clutched in her hands. When her gaze lifted, she looked so empty, so unbearably fragile, that my chest ached.
“Hey,” I said softly. “You ready to go?”
Lily tucked her hair behind her ears, attention shifting to the front desk. “I need to pay.”
“I already did,” I told her. “I didn’t want you to have to stay any longer than necessary.”
Her throat worked on a swallow. “Thank you,” she whispered.
When she looked up into my face—looking so fucking lost, so devastated—I almost did something really stupid, like pull her into my arms. But doing nothing . . . I couldn’t.
I laid my hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Underneath my fingers, her hair was silky and smooth. Lily pinched her eyes shut and then walked past me, my hand falling back down to my side.
A vet tech came around the corner with a bag in her hand. “Here. She forgot to take these from the room.”
All it took was a quick glance over my shoulder to know she was long gone. Lily was already in the parking lot, arms crossed tightly as she strode to my truck. I gave the employee a small smile. “What is it?”
“The dog’s collar, and the blanket she had him wrapped in when she arrived last night. It looks like it was well loved; I thought she might want it back.”
“Thank you.” I tucked the bag under my arm and sighed. “Is there anything else we need to do?”
She shook her head. “We’ll take care of everything. She didn’t want the ashes after cremation, so there’s not really anything left to do.”
“Okay. Thanks again.”
“Have a good day, Coach.” She smiled shyly.
Lily was waiting outside the truck, and the lost look was gone from her face. In its place was stoicism. Her chin was lifted, and she still held that coat in her hands despite the snow flying and the blustery wind.
Without a word, I held out the bag, watching her face carefully.
For a moment, she stared at it, then removed it from my grasp.
I unlocked the truck and opened her door.
She stared at my hand on the edge of the door, her chest rising and falling on a deep breath before she grabbed the handle and pulled herself into the passenger seat.
Once she was in, I closed the door and walked quickly around to the driver’s side.
She was quiet on the drive home, but unlike last time, she didn’t stare out the window.
Lily was staring at me.
Instead of fidgeting underneath the weight of that stare, I hooked my wrist on the top of the steering wheel and simply let her look.
For a while, at least.
At a red light, I glanced sideways with a raised eyebrow. “Got any incoming questions, or are we just going to have a staring contest every time I stop?”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to ask you any questions,” she said, tucking her leg up against her chest and wrapping an arm around it. She’d toed off her boots before I got into the truck. “You never answer them anyway.”
I hummed. “Seems to be the theme of our relationship, doesn’t it?”
“I answer some.”
“Not all.”
“Well, no, what fun is that? Once the mystery is gone, you’ll stop acting as my personal chauffeur for traumatic moments, and then where would I be?”
If bantering with me made Lily feel better, I’d do it all fucking night.
“I’d imagine you’d be driving yourself,” I answered evenly. “You didn’t need me to come with you. You’d have handled it.”
For a moment, she was quiet; then, finally, she shifted her gaze to the front windshield as we got closer to our neighborhood. “Yeah, but I would’ve been mean to the staff,” she said quietly. “You were nice, I think.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
Her head snapped toward me. “How do you know?”
The light in front of me turned yellow, and even though I could’ve made it, I eased the truck to a stop, then turned and caught her eye.
“You’re not as mean as you proclaim to be.
And if I hadn’t been there, you would’ve been polite.
Kind, even. And I have a feeling if I hadn’t been waiting for you, you would’ve finally let yourself shed a tear over that grumpy little beast, who you don’t actually hate. ”
Lily rolled her lips between her teeth and stared down at her lap, where her fingers turned white at the knuckles from how tightly she held her hands. “You don’t know me,” she whispered.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind changing that,” I said easily.
Her jaw went slack, and she let out a shocked laugh. “So this is, what? An elaborate seduction technique? You say no to kissing me under the plant of doom, but you think a first date at the emergency vet will really seal the deal?”
I leaned in slightly, my elbow easing onto the console between us. Another inch and our arms would’ve touched. “Is that what you think I’m doing, Lily?” I held her gaze. “Truly?”
Her eyes darted between mine, and eventually she shook her head.
After a beat, I moved back into my seat, pressing my foot on the gas when the light turned green. “Sometimes people don’t have ulterior motives. They help because they want to help. They get to know someone because that sounds better than not knowing them at all.”
“And that’s you?”
I sucked in a breath through my nose and gave her a quick look as I exhaled. “Yeah. It is.”
“Hmm.”
The disbelief in her tone had me fighting a smile. Nothing about this—about us—made much sense. And I just couldn’t find it in me to care.
As I took the last turn onto our street, I saw the kids waiting on the front porch of Scott and Patty’s place, and I glanced at Lily to gauge her reaction.
The lightness that had briefly shifted our exchange was long gone, likely because it was a flimsy sort of defense mechanism over what was really happening inside her.
“How’d they know we were almost home?” she asked quietly.
“Oh, uh, Maggie knows how to track my phone.” Her lips curved in a smile, but it disappeared quickly. I cleared my throat, slowing down before I turned into her driveway. “Do you want me to ask them to go?”
Immediately, she shook her head. “It’s okay.” She gave me a quick look. “You gonna open my door on this shitty date, or am I allowed to do it myself?”
Affection swelled under my sternum so fast, it almost took my breath away. “You can do it yourself.” I paused as I turned off the truck. “This time.”
Lily muttered something under her breath, but I didn’t hear it. Probably better that way.
The kids were alone, and I had a feeling my mother was to thank for that. There was no way Lily could handle a crowd right now. But just in case I was wrong, I laid a hand on her forearm before she exited the truck.
“If you want, you’re welcome to come over for dinner tonight. Just . . . pizza. Nothing fancy. My brother and his fiancée are here; they’re flying the kids to Colorado tomorrow for a long weekend, but I know they wouldn’t mind if you joined.”
Her eyes were so big in her face again, like she wasn’t even sure how to process my offer.
She inhaled slowly, gaze moving briefly to where Maggie and Bryce stood by her front door, both of them holding something in their hands.
Her face softened. “You enjoy your time with your family,” she said as she stared at them.
“Pretty sure I’m going straight to bed anyway. I’m tired.”
“Okay.”
Lily slipped out of the truck without another word, and I noticed she left the bag holding the blanket and the collar on the floor. With a sigh, I picked it up again and hopped out.
Bryce and Maggie approached her cautiously, and my heart fucking broke in half when I saw their eyes. Maggie had already been crying, and she ran her hand underneath her nose, tears tracking down her cheeks.
Bryce was trying to hold it together, his lips in a firm line as he thrust a piece of paper at Lily. “I-I’m not really an artist. But I wanted to make you something.” His chin trembled while she studied it. “He was a good dog. I’m . . . I’m really sorry he died.”
Lily cupped the side of his face and bent down so she was closer to his height. “This is perfect, thank you.” She wrapped him in a tight hug, her eyes red again. Bryce let out a quiet sob and then turned immediately into my arms when Lily pulled back.
I kissed the top of his head while he cried.
Maggie held out a plate of slightly burned cookies as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I kinda burned them. But I didn’t want anyone to help me, be-because I wanted to do something that would make you feel better.
” She hiccuped around her words. “And I forgot to set the timer, and then I started thinking about Larry and when he licked my hand that one time, and you s-said he didn’t usually do that. ”
“He didn’t,” she whispered shakily. “He didn’t like very many people, trust me.”
Maggie’s smile was wobbly, and tears dripped down her chin. “But you really think he liked me?”
“Yes,” Lily said genuinely.
Maggie’s face crumpled, and she flung her arms around Lily’s midsection for a hug. While Maggie cried, I watched Lily’s face. She’d set her chin on the top of Maggie’s head, her eyes closed and her breathing slow and steady. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Again and again.
I remembered lying on the gurney while they strapped me in place after I’d torn my MCL and ACL. The pain had been excruciating, and all I’d allowed myself to focus on was my breathing. Not the people watching me. Not the eyes glued to this horrible moment. Not what it meant for the future.
I’d turned inward, refusing to allow a single crack of emotion show through. Time for that later, I’d promised myself. And what I saw in Lily’s face now was what I felt back then.
Discipline to an unfathomable degree.
Maggie pulled away, wiping at her face. Lily gave her a small smile and held up the plate of cookies. “Thank you. I have a feeling this might be my dinner.”
“That’s not very healthy,” Maggie said in a thick, watery voice.
Lily smiled. “No. But I think it’s all I can handle.”
I ran a hand over Maggie’s hair. “Why don’t you two head back home, okay?”
“Thank you,” Lily told them. Then she looked at me. “All of you. I can’t—” Her voice cut out, her jaw tensed, and for a moment, she stared at the driveway. “Thank you.”
The kids each gave her another hug and walked back home.
I held out the bag, and Lily’s shoulders deflated. Her fingers brushed mine as she took it, then turned to walk away.
“It doesn’t feel right,” I said, watching as she froze.
“What doesn’t?” she asked, eyes finding mine over her shoulder.
“Leaving you alone right now.”
Something more crept into my voice. More than I wanted. More than I should have allowed.
If Lily had heard it, she didn’t comment on it, and maybe that was for the best.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m used to being alone.”
And then she turned and walked into the house. I stood rooted in place, then looked up at the sky and, for a moment, simply watched it snow.