Chapter Ten
IAN
The picture that circulates on the internet in the days after the orphanage isn’t one I thought it would be. It isn’t glimpses of Lila talking to me at the rink, or me helping clean up after, not even the moment where I whispered in her ear that still makes me heat up when I recall it—all things that would have been perfectly good rumor-feeding photos—no, the picture that trumped them all is the one I hadn’t expected anyone to nab.
It’s not the first time I’ve looked at it, not even the first ten, if I’m being honest—mostly because there’s something about seeing myself crouched in front of her while she looks down at me from her perch on one of those old swings that strikes me as odd. Or maybe it feels odd because of how not odd it feels. I can’t be sure. My fingers are gentle against her chin, and there’s a serious expression on my face that is completely at war with the soft one she wears, and the entire scene as a whole is…It’s fucking believable, is what it is. It sure as hell doesn’t look like just two friends.
And we hadn’t even been trying.
My only explanation is that I had felt such a strong need to comfort her, to let her know that I wasn’t at all upset with her—because I had meant what I said to her. I can handle strangers thinking that I’m a piece of shit, or even just that I used to be, but for some reason, the idea of Lila viewing me that way turns my stomach. When we were younger, her obvious affection had always felt so warm and right, so much so that I found myself seeking her out anytime I came around, just to experience it. Lila has always been a comfort to me, and even if she’s grown up now and different from the girl I knew—it’s obvious that nothing about that has changed. I still feel that urge to be close to her, to protect her, to make her laugh, and when she was a child, that felt totally natural, but with the woman she’s become…something about it feels different now.
Which leaves me all sorts of confused.
A knock at the front door of Jack’s apartment startles me out of my own musings, and I turn my head to peer over the couch, noticing that the bathroom door is still closed as the faint sounds of Jack’s shower drift out of it. His showers take twice as long with that sling now.
I push myself off the couch with a grunt and pad over to the door, unlocking the chain and dragging it open, only to feel a complete rush of surprise barrel me over.
“Abby?”
Her mouth curves into a shy smile, her bright gray eyes looking nervous and unsure. “Hey,” she says. “Sorry, I know I should have called, but I thought—” She looks up and down the hallway. “Can I come in?”
I haven’t seen Abigail in person in years; there are phone calls here and there—awkward conversations that neither of us seems to know how to navigate—but the last time I saw her, the entire interaction ended up all over the internet, a catalyst to the implosion of my personal life. She’s changed since I last saw her; her blond hair is shorter, framing her face in a stylish cut that makes her look older, despite her sweet-looking face.
I manage to get a handle on my shock, nodding dumbly and stepping aside from the open door. “Yeah, come in.”
“Nice place,” she notes as she steps inside. “You live here with your friend, right?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, closing the door. “Jack.”
She seems jittery—shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she busies herself with taking in the apartment. “I really didn’t mean to barge in on you, I was just…” She blows out an unsteady breath. “I guess I needed to see a friendly face.”
“What happened?”
She looks almost guilty when she turns to look at me over her shoulder. “I called him.”
“Oh.”
Tension seizes up my muscles; I guess it isn’t all that surprising that she still talks to him, but something about it still makes me feel…strange. Even after all these years, I haven’t gotten used to this fucked triangle we’re in.
“You can sit down,” I tell her, gesturing to the couch. “You want something to drink?”
She shakes her head. “I’m good.” She lets out a huff of a laugh. “I don’t even really know why I’m here. I should have just called.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She looks at me with a furrowed brow, and I shake my head.
“Sorry,” I amend. “I didn’t mean to sound like a dick, it’s just…”
“I know,” she offers. “This is totally out of the blue.”
“Did something happen?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Her teeth press against her lower lip, her finger twirling one strawberry blond curl around and around. “I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I don’t really know what to do, and now that you’re back in town, I just…”
I carefully cross the room and ease onto the side of the couch opposite her, eyeing her warily. “Thinking about what?”
“All of it,” she says. “I think I’m…I think I’m tired of keeping secrets, Ian.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
“I know it’s not fair to you,” she says quietly. “And I know I agreed to not say anything, but—”
My voice comes out harsher than I mean it to. “Have you thought about what will happen if you say something?”
“I have,” she answers, nodding softly. “I know it would be a nightmare.” She glances at me, eyes full of guilt. “For you too.”
“Then why?”
She closes her eyes, looking older than her twenty-five years. “I’m tired of only having secret conversations when there’s time for them. I’m tired of lying about who I am. I’m just tired of all of it.”
I can’t pretend that I don’t understand the way she’s feeling; I can only imagine the sort of hell she’s been through, even more so than me, in some ways—but I also know what sort of bomb her coming clean would be to everyone involved.
“Abby, I—” I clench my jaw, trying to sort through my feelings on this. “I can’t tell you what to do.”
“But?”
“But I can’t pretend it won’t be a fucking shit show.” I level my gaze with hers. “And not just for you.”
Her eyes drop to her knees, and she looks so young and vulnerable that I feel an almost visceral urge to close the distance between us and wrap my arms around her. Something I don’t even know if she’d want. After all this time, I still don’t quite know how to maneuver our…relationship.
“I know,” she says finally. “I know that. It’s probably a stupid idea.”
“I didn’t say that,” I try.
Her eyes are harder now. “But I’m sure you were thinking it.”
“Abby,” I sigh.
“It’s fine,” she says harshly, pushing up from the couch. “Fuck. I don’t even know why I came. It’s not like we’re really…” Her lips press together, and she looks so…lost. “I’m sorry.”
I move to stand, reaching out for her. “Abby, you don’t have to be—”
“Hey! Did you know we’re out of body wash? Had to use your weird bar. I hope it’s not for your balls or anything. My skin is going to be dry as fu—”
Abby and I both turn to find Jack haunting the end of the hallway with just a towel wrapped around his waist, his eyes darting between the two of us. A glance at Abby shows her face full of surprise as her eyes widen, and then she’s practically power walking to the front door, reaching for the handle and wrenching it open. She turns to linger in the doorway for a moment, giving me those same sad eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she offers. “I shouldn’t have barged in on you. Maybe we can talk later?”
I feel my nod, heavy and slow. “Sure.”
And with that she’s gone, the apartment door falling shut behind her as if she never had been here. The silence she leaves behind is palpable, so thick that the sound of Jack’s breathing feels as if it’s only steps away instead of all the way across the room.
“That was her, wasn’t it?”
I can only nod. “Yeah.”
“What did she want?”
“I…” I shake my head. “I’m not really sure, honestly.”
It’s not the whole truth, but it’s not not the truth. She definitely seemed unsure of things.
“You need to talk about it?”
God. What is it about the Baker siblings and them wanting me to hash my shit out?
“I’m good,” I tell him. “We gotta get going soon, anyway.”
“Yeah.” Jack gives me a wan smile. “Aunt Bea will kick both our asses if we’re late to dinner.”
Because there isn’t enough confusion in my life right now, of course Jack and Lila’s aunt has invited us all to dinner tonight, meaning that I will have to sit across a table from the woman who’s causing chaos in my head in a home that always felt more mine than my own—all while pretending I’m not slowly unraveling. Add Abigail into the mix? My mind might as well be a basket of wet cats right now.
“Let me hop in the shower real quick,” I say, “and then we can go.”
“Okay,” Jack answers. “We really are out of body wash, though, just a heads-up.” I turn, catching the way his nose wrinkles in distaste. “The bar on the shelf isn’t for your balls, right?”
My mouth quirks, and I shrug one shoulder as I head past him toward the bathroom. “Who can say?”
His mumbled “Dick” and the resulting laugh it pulls from me might be the most normal thing that has happened today.
It’s both weird and completely easy being back at Bea’s place.
The few times I’ve seen her over the years have all been out and about—at dinners with Jack or seeing her at games of his I caught—but I haven’t been back here since I was twenty-two years old and on the cusp of being drafted into the NHL. Before that, I was in and out of her house constantly for the entire decade prior; I think I spent more time over here than at my own house. So it actually feels like coming home, sitting in her dining room as she sets out different food she’s made.
“Now, I’ve got brownies in the oven,” she tells the three of us. “I figure we can eat them with some ice cream after dinner.”
Lila is sitting right next to me, her smile easy and frequent and hard not to return. Jack is on the other side of the table, already reaching for a roll with his good hand, only for Bea to smack it away.
“You wait until I get everything set out, heathen.”
Jack pouts. “Dude, I’m injured.”
“Well, you’re about to be even more injured if you don’t hold your horses.” She frowns in his direction. “And I’m not your ‘dude.’?”
“Yeah, fine,” Jack grumbles under his breath.
“Ian? You want some bread?”
“Sure, Bea,” I say.
Jack makes an indignant sound. “Hey!”
“You shut up over there,” she tsks. “He didn’t reach.”
Lila giggles softly, and Jack cuts his eyes at her, sticking out his tongue. It’s so similar to a night from my teen years that I feel a wave of nostalgia wash over that unravels some of the tension I’ve been carrying. It makes me wish I’d come for a visit long before tonight.
We all fill our plates and settle into comfortable conversation, but I’m hyperaware of the way Lila’s elbow brushes against my arm every so often. The way she smirks at me when I drop a bite of peas back onto my plate, a playful glint in her eye. Hell, I’m just aware of her, period. That’s definitely different from the last time I was here.
“So,” Bea says after the catching-up dies down, pointing her fork between the two of us. “What’s this Jack tells me about the two of you acting like you’re all lovey-dovey for the masses?”
I almost choke on my roll. Lila pats my back, clucking her tongue. “What the hell, Jack?”
“What?” Jack tries to look innocent with a mouthful of potatoes. “Didn’t know it was a secret.”
“It’s not,” I say, finally, managing to swallow my bite down. “It’s nothing, Bea. Just something our PR teams cooked up.”
The words feel heavy on my tongue. Not like a lie, per se, because it absolutely is pretend, but something about dismissing it still doesn’t sit quite right. I don’t really have time to assess those feelings, though, since Bea isn’t done.
“Always hoped you two would get married,” she says offhandedly, like it’s not the equivalent of dropping an atom bomb into the conversation. “Then I could have all of you as my kids.”
“Aunt Bea,” Lila hisses, her face flushing. “Seriously?”
Bea cocks an eyebrow. “What? An old woman can dream, can’t she?” She tilts her chin in my direction. “That one you married was nice though. How is she?”
“Mei’s fine,” I tell her. “She just got remarried. They’re off on their honeymoon right now.”
“Didn’t she marry a woman?” Bea’s nose wrinkles. “What did you do to her that she didn’t want men anymore?”
“Aunt Bea,” Lila repeats on a choked groan. “Oh my God.”
“She’s bisexual,” I laugh. “Think she always leaned more toward women though.”
Bea considers this, her expression thoughtful. “I imagine they’re softer. Guess I can’t blame her.”
“I would like to very much not explore this conversation,” Jack chimes in.
“So you two gonna have to kiss and stuff on camera?” Bea barrels on.
My mouth falls open, and I look to Lila for help; she seems just as thrown. The image of Lila’s soft, pink mouth on mine thunders through my thoughts, making itself known, and it should be a curious thing, I think. It should be nothing more than a passing oddity that is just a result of Bea putting it there, but the effect it has on me…My pulse picks up, my ears heat, and the breath I’d been about to release gets caught in my throat, like my body can’t help but hold it. It’s definitely not a passing oddity. Not with the way my thoughts are practically tattooing it onto my brain.
“I don’t think it’ll come to anything like that,” I manage thickly after far too many seconds. “The internet sort of makes their own rumors, you know? Once the idea is there, they pretty much don’t need much to keep it alive.”
I peek at Lila, and instead of seeing gratitude at my save, she looks almost…irritated. It’s not something I’m used to seeing on her. It’s gone too quickly for me to really analyze it though.
“It’s just a silly game, Aunt Bea,” she says finally. “It’s only for a few weeks.”
It’s only for a few weeks.
Why does that make me want to frown? I can’t seem to get a handle on my own head.
“Sure,” Bea laughs. “Whatever you kids say.” She points her fork at Lila. “You all up for a game of Farkle?”
“I fucking hate that game,” Jack groans.
Bea smacks his good shoulder, causing him to yelp. “You want me to break your other arm? Watch your mouth.”
“Why are you so mean to me?”
Bea rolls her eyes. “Oh, hardly.” She looks between Lila and me. “Two of you want to go find the game? I keep them in Dee’s closet. Top shelf. Might need Ian’s help to get it down without causing an avalanche.”
There’s a twinkle in her eye that suggests she’s up to something, but Lila is already standing, dropping her napkin on her empty plate. “Sure,” she says. And then to me, “Come help me?”
“Okay,” I say, standing from my own chair.
I know the way to Lila’s bedroom; I’ve seen it many times, after all, but stepping inside it after all this time feels…different. Even if everything looks exactly the same.
“Wow,” I say. “Bea hasn’t changed a thing, has she?”
“I think it makes her feel better,” Lila says over her shoulder as she crosses the room to her closet. “She gets lonely here living on her own.”
“But you guys visit a lot, right?”
“Oh yeah. At least once a week.”
I shuffle over to Lila’s bed, picking up a stuffed rabbit resting against her pillows, a smile touching my lips. “I see this guy is still clinging to life.”
“Who?” Lila angles my way, chuckling when she sees what I’m holding. “Ears will outlive us all.”
I run my fingers over one soft ear the rabbit was named for. “I remember you couldn’t sleep a wink without this damned thing.”
“I was seven,” she grumbles.
“Oh?” My mouth quirks, and I tilt the stuffed bunny back and forth. “And when did you stop sleeping with him again?”
Lila rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”
“I remember the year you were obsessed with tea parties,” I muse, setting the rabbit back on her bed and eyeing the little wicker table in the corner. “Jack and I drank so much fake tea, I’m surprised we didn’t get sick.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, arching one tailored brow, and my eyes are drawn to her smug expression, which makes her lips pout, taking my thoughts to places they shouldn’t be. “You know, cool things happened here too.”
“Oh yeah?” I chuckle. “Have a few ragers in here?”
She shrugs. “No, but I did try weed right there at that window.”
“Wow.” I fake a gasp. “Scandalous. What else did I miss in here, Outlaw?”
“Let’s see.” She taps her finger against her bottom lip, and it’s an actual struggle not to let my eyes settle there for too long, feeling an urge hit me out of nowhere to run my finger there instead. “Well. I snuck a boy in here when I was sixteen.”
I feel the fine hairs on my neck prickle; this is not news that should put me on edge, since I was twenty-one when this apparently happened, so why the fuck does it? Why do I suddenly hate this game we’re playing?
“Did you.”
“Yep.” Her lips curl in a Cheshire cat grin. “Had my first kiss right there on that bed.”
“With who?”
“Tommy Dalton,” she tells me. “He was in my algebra class.”
I grind my teeth. “Any good?”
“Not really,” she laughs. “Too much tongue.”
Why the fuck do I hate this so much?
“Poor Tommy,” I mutter, absolutely not meaning it at all.
“Yeah, well,” she says with another quiet chuckle. “I was pining for someone else, so the poor guy never stood a chance.”
“Someone else?”
Her gaze finds mine, her mouth pressing into a line as she studies me. “Yeah. Someone older.”
My stomach flutters with…something.
“Oh?”
“Mhm.” She takes a step toward me, and I feel my heart begin to race. “Someone who just saw me as a kid.”
I swallow thickly, watching her take another step. “I guess it never worked out, then, huh?”
“Nah. He was always going to see me as Jack’s little sister back then.” Her teeth press against her lip, and fuck if I’m fixated on the sight. “But I still think about him.”
Fuck, does she mean…?
I clear my throat. “Anyone I know?”
“Hm. You could say that.”
She’s close now, and her hand reaches to toy with the collar of my shirt, just a light touch that still causes goose bumps to break out along my skin. Without thinking, my hand shoots out to wrap my fingers around her wrist, watching her pupils dilate as I grip it tight, forcing her palm to press against my chest. I can feel the warmth of it through my shirt, and her eyes slowly move down to stare at my hand. They linger there for a second, maybe more, and when she tilts her head back up to meet my gaze, I realize I’m holding my breath.
“Lila, I—”
“You really never noticed?”
Her voice is barely a whisper now, and I feel like I’m under a spell, watching her lean in ever so slightly.
“I…” I struggle for words, because the implication is there, but to acknowledge it would be a game changer for the both of us. It would mean changing everything we’ve ever known, everything we’ve ever been—and is that really wise? Am I actually leaning in too? “Lila, I—”
“You two found it yet?” Bea calls from back in the dining room. “It’s on the top shelf!”
Lila steps away from me lightning fast, the warmth from her closeness fading like it had never been there and a happy mask sliding over her features as she flashes me a grin. “Sorry,” she says. “I just like seeing you flustered, Cupcake.”
My mouth parts, only to close again, something deflating inside. She was joking with me? Really?
“Very funny,” I manage dryly.
That glint of sadness is back in her eyes, and it comes and goes so quickly I might almost miss it, but I don’t. I see it. I see it well enough that it makes me wonder if she was really joking. And if she wasn’t, what does that mean for us and all the thoughts I keep having?
“Let’s grab that game and head back,” Lila says. “Bea gets cranky when you make her wait.”
“Sure,” I answer dumbly, my brain still reeling.
She points out the box with the dice and the score sheets for me to grab, hardly even waiting for me to pull it out before she’s starting out of the room. I hold the game in my hand and watch her go, needing a second to collect myself before I follow after her.
You really never noticed?
I want to pull her back and ask her what those words meant. I want to know what that look on her face meant. I want to know if she was actually joking or if she meant everything that she just said. But mostly…
I want to know why I’m so disappointed by the possibility that she didn’t.