Chapter 31
JOSH
The sunlight filters through Lily’s curtains, painting her bedroom in a dreamlike golden glow.
I trace lazy patterns on her bare shoulder as she sleeps beside me, her honey-blonde hair splayed across the pillow, her breathing deep and even.
Yesterday was surreal, a day so perfect I’m afraid to move and shatter the illusion.
Or to wake up and discover it was all a dream and I’m in my bed alone.
But Lily stirs: here, real, mine. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks before she opens those hazel eyes that knock the wind out of me every time they meet mine. Her lips lift into a sleepy smile that ropes me in.
“Hey,” she whispers, voice rough with sleep.
“Hey yourself,” I reply, my hand still tracing the curve of her shoulder, the dip of her collarbone, the smooth expanse of skin that I’ve spent the last several hours memorizing with my fingertips, my lips. “Sleep okay?”
She stretches like a cat, all languid movements and quiet sighs. “Better than I have in years.” She rolls onto her side to face me, propping her head on her hand. “What time is it?”
I glance at the clock on her nightstand. “Almost nine.”
“Josie is bringing Penny back at two.” A hint of worry creeps into her voice.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her cheek. “Are you nervous?”
“A little. It’s a big change for her. For all of us.”
“We don’t have to tell her everything at once,” I offer. “We can ease her into it.”
Lily’s brow furrows in her overthinking face. “I don’t want to lie to her. She’s perceptive, she’ll figure out something’s changed between us.”
“We won’t lie,” I promise. “But maybe we start with ‘Josh is going to be around more’ before jumping to ‘Josh is moving in.’”
Lily nods, her eyes searching mine. “Are you sure about all this? About the academy job? About us?”
I slide my hand to the back of her neck, drawing her closer until our foreheads touch. “I submitted my transfer paperwork on Friday, Lily. It’s done.”
Her eyes widen. “You did? Before talking to me? What if I’d said no?”
I smirk down at her. “You yelling at me that you loved me gave me a confidence boost and I was happy with the decision either way.” I look deep into her eyes, needing her to understand.
“I’m not sacrificing my dreams, Lily. I’m choosing a different path to the same destination.
And after what happened in that fire…” I swallow past the memory of being trapped under that shelter.
“Being an instructor feels right. Using what I learned to make sure others come home safe.”
Relief softens her features, and she leans in to brush her lips against mine. “I’m proud of you,” she whispers. “And selfishly very, very happy.”
I slide one hand down to the small of her back, pulling her closer. “I’m happy too,” I murmur against her mouth.
We lose ourselves in each other again, trading lazy kisses and gentle touches. It’s still new enough that each caress feels like a revelation, each sigh a gift. But the familiarity growing between us is turning my chest too small to contain all this joy that is bursting out.
Afterward, I trace the inked lines of Daniel’s name over her heart, feeling the slight rise of the letters against my fingertips. “Can I tell you something that’s going to sound incredibly silly and make you think I’m totally nuts?”
“You can tell me anything. Always.”
“I think… well, I can’t shake this idea from my head that Daniel sent me to you and Penny.”
Her reaction is not what I expect. Lily covers her face with both hands, shaking her head on the pillow.
“Hey, hey,” I murmur, gently prying her hands away from her face. “I’m sorry. That was—I shouldn’t have said—”
“No,” she chokes out. “No, that’s not—” She gulps in air until she’s calm enough to speak. “It’s because I feel the same way.”
My heart kicks against my ribs. “You do?”
She nods, wiping at fresh tears with the back of her hand. “What made you believe that?”
“Do you remember that first weekend at the Santa Monica pier, when I told you it took three rejections before my transfer request to California was accepted?”
She nods again, her eyes never leaving mine.
“What I didn’t tell you at the time was that I had given up.
After the third rejection, I’d decided to stay in Delaware.
I was looking at other stations nearby, ready to accept that California wasn’t in the cards for me.
” I swallow, remembering the resignation I’d felt.
“Then one day, I was at home I don’t remember doing what when the remote fell from a stable spot on the coffee table. ”
“So?” She frowns.
“I know how it sounds. But I swear, there was no earthquake, no wind coming in from open windows. The remote tumbled to the floor on its own, switching on the TV to a breaking news report of wildfires in California, of how LAFD was understaffed and overwhelmed.” I shake my head, still a little disbelieving even as I recount it.
“It made me want to apply again, one last time. So I did. And that’s when I got accepted. ”
Lily stares at me, her eyes wide and glistening.
“And it can be a stupid coincidence, a trick of gravity, vibrations from a heavy truck passing down the road outside my house. But I don’t see it that way. To me, it was a sign. And now, I can’t help thinking it came from Daniel. What was it for you?”
She shifts, pulling the sheets up around us, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. “I went to see Daniel at the cemetery after our big fight. I’d been avoiding it for a while because—well, because of us. Because I felt guilty about having feelings for you.”
I nod, giving her the space to continue.
“There were all these signs.” Her voice takes on a sense of wonder.
“The air smelled like him, that weird winter forest smell he always had, even in summer. And this strange wind was blowing, cool when it should’ve been hot.
And then—” She laughs, a little embarrassed.
“I found a penny at the base of his tomb. It wasn’t there the other times.
I don’t know who could’ve dropped it. Pennies were our thing; I told you at the camp—”
“Yeah, I remember.”
She turns, opening the nightstand drawer, and shows me the little coin. “And it seemed like a sign from him, a message.”
My throat tightens.
“As I was sitting there, Dorian’s song ‘Learn to Love Again’ started playing from a woman’s headphones that were too loud,” she continues.
“Then someone’s car radio. And even on the ride home.
The same song, coming at me from every direction.
” Her fingers tighten around mine. “It was like Daniel was telling me to be with you. To trust you. That he wanted this for me and Penny.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until Lily reaches up to wipe a tear from my cheek. “That’s beautiful,” I manage to say.
“I felt him there, Josh. Like he was giving me his blessing.”
“I believe you,” I tell her, and I do. I can’t explain why these things happened, but I know they did.
And I know what they mean to us. “Some loves are so big they don’t end, even when—” My voice breaks, and I have to clear my throat.
“Even when the other person is gone. Daniel loved you and Penny so much that he’s still looking out for you, still wanting you to be happy. ”
Lily nods, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “For the longest time, I thought being loyal to his memory meant being alone forever. But that day at the cemetery, I realized the most loyal thing I could do was to be happy. To let Penny be happy. To let love back into our lives.”
I gather her close, feeling her tears dampen my shoulder as she burrows into me. “I’ll never try to replace him,” I promise. “For either of you. He’ll always be Penny’s dad and your first love.”
“I know,” she whispers against my skin. “That’s one of the reasons I love you. You don’t try to compete with a ghost. You make room for him at the table.”
“What will Penny say?” I ask.
Lily traces absent patterns on my chest as she considers this. “She’ll be thrilled. She already adores you.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” I say with a smile. “Your kid is pretty incredible.”
“She is,” Lily agrees, pride warming her voice. “But she’s also still processing Daniel’s death in her own way. Sometimes she’ll go weeks without mentioning him, and then she’ll have a million questions about what he was like, if he would’ve loved her ballet recital, if he’d like her new backpack.”
“We’ll be careful. Make sure she knows it’s okay to love both of us. That hearts expand; they don’t replace.”
Lily’s eyes go bright. “When did you get so wise?”
I shrug, my cheeks warming. “My grandma raised me right. She used to tell me that love isn’t a pie. More for someone else doesn’t mean less for us.”
“Your grandmother sounds amazing.”
“She was,” I agree, swallowing past the sudden tightness in my throat. “She would’ve loved you.”
Lily kisses me then, and that emptiness, that sense of not belonging anywhere that’s been my silent companion for years, finally leaves me. I’m not alone anymore. I have found my people.
In her. In Penny. In us.