Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Shadows and Secrets
Sawyer
Friday evening, I turned down Colt and Tessa’s long drive; it looked more like a used car lot than a ranch. Trucks and sedans were lined up on both sides of the fence, chrome flashing in the last of the evening light. I eased my pickup into a narrow spot, cut the engine, and sat for a second.
Two square boxes sat on the passenger seat, gifts I’d ordered from some fancy toy store online.
They’d shown up wrapped in bright paper with big shiny bows, nothing like the plain kraft or newspaper the folks in Lovelace usually slapped on birthday presents.
A plastic horse for Wyatt, a doll for Charlie. My contribution to the circus.
I grabbed the boxes, stepped out, and walked along the driveway. That’s when I saw it—Lilly’s car, tucked close to the house. She’d gotten here early.
My heart pumped with a restless mix of relief and nerves hitting me all at once. I hadn’t seen her since last weekend. Hadn’t heard from her either, not beyond the text about “needing time to think.”
I’d tried to play it cool, give her space, but standing there with her car in front of me, all I could think was: maybe tonight I’d get an answer. One way or another.
The murmur of voices and the faint squeal of children spilled through the open windows, carrying on the evening air.
I squared my shoulders, balanced the gifts under my arm, and headed up the walk, wondering if Lilly would look at me the same way she had out by the lake…
or if that look had already slipped through my fingers.
The front door swung open before I even knocked.
Inside, the Bennetts’ place looked like a carnival had blown through and never left.
Balloons were tied in clusters along the banister, banners with cartoon ponies and glittering letters stretched across the walls.
Front and center in the living room, a clown in oversized shoes and rainbow suspenders was juggling plastic bowling pins while half the town’s kids clapped and shrieked.
The twins—Wyatt and Charlie—sat on the floor in the middle of it all, sticky hands grabbing at boxes bigger than they were.
Wrapping paper flew like confetti, and every time one of them squealed, the whole room seemed to cheer.
Wyatt had a bow stuck to his hair, Charlie was gnawing on the corner of a card, and both looked happier than ever.
I set my gifts on the pile, shaking my head.
I’d seen firefights with less chaos than a first birthday party.
Still, what caught me wasn’t the noise or the balloons or even the clown.
It was the way the Bennetts moved—taking turns steadying the twins on wobbly legs, clapping along to their squeals, bending down to kiss their heads like it never got old.
This kind of energy didn’t come from caffeine or stubbornness, but from something deeper.
Damn if it wasn’t love.
I stood there for a beat too long, wondering if I’d ever have that kind of patience. If I could ever pour myself out the way they did and not run dry.
A neighbor clapped me on the back, dragging me back to the moment. “Good to see you, Sawyer.”
I nodded, traded handshakes, and smiled at people I barely knew. I talked about the weather, the coming hunting season, and Bruce’s poacher story making the rounds. But through it all, my eyes kept drifting.
Lilly.
She was at the dining table with Tessa and Callie, cutting cake into neat squares and jotting names beside gift tags.
Her blond hair caught the glow of the overhead lights, her laugh rising above the din every so often, but she never looked my way.
Or maybe she did—quick glances that darted off before I could be sure.
I told myself it was nothing, that she was busy, but the distance between us felt louder than the clown’s squeaky shoes.
Our eyes brushed across the room more than once, just quick enough to make me wonder if I was imagining it. Each time, she looked away first, busying herself with a plate of cake or scribbling another name on Callie’s notepad. By the third time, I couldn’t stand still any longer.
I made my way through the crowd, expecting the usual ribbing—someone nudging me about chasing the florist, or whispering just loud enough for me to hear. But no one said a thing. The chatter stayed fixed on the clown act, the twins’ laughter, and who had baked what for the dessert table.
When I finally reached her, Lilly gave me a polite smile, as if I were a casual acquaintance on Main Street. “How’s your week been?” she asked, her tone casual, almost airy.
It caught me off guard. After days of silence, after the text that left me restless every night since, all I got was small talk.
“Busy,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Yours?”
She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes sliding away toward Tessa. “The same.”
The simplicity of it stung worse than a jab. I wanted to ask if she’d made the appointment and if she was ready to move forward the way she’d promised. But the words lodged in my throat. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me. Her distance felt like an answer I wasn’t ready to hear.
Before I could press, she excused herself with a quick smile, turning back to the cake table. Just like that, the space between us widened, sharper than any wall I’d ever run into.
I stood there for a moment longer, gifts and chatter swirling around me, unsettled in a way I hadn’t felt since she first walked into my life.
I drifted back toward the gift pile, trying to look like I was a part of the noise and laughter.
Wyatt was pulling at the little bridle on the plastic horse I’d picked out.
Charlie sat beside him with the doll clutched to her chest, stroking its head like she knew exactly what she was supposed to do.
At least the toys were a hit.
I was crouched down watching them when Colt sidled up beside me, a red plastic cup in one hand and his easy grin in place. He leaned just close enough that only I could hear.
“Lilly wants to talk to you,” he murmured. “Alone.”
My head jerked a little, and he gave me a look that said, “Keep it together.”
“She’s gonna slide out the back,” he continued, voice low and steady. “You head out the front, make it look like you’re going to your truck. But don’t. Meet her at the stables.”
I kept my eyes on the twins, nodding like we were just two men appreciating kids being kids. “That so?”
“That’s so,” Colt said, straightening as he clapped me on the shoulder.
Then he walked off, leaving me with the weight of his words and a heart beating a little too fast for a kids’ birthday party.
I bided my time, watching Wyatt chew and Charlie squeal, pretending I had nothing better to do. But when I saw Lilly slip out the back door, her beautiful features catching the warmth of the porch light before the night swallowed her, I knew it was my cue.
I took the long way around, out the front door, making a show of heading toward my truck before cutting across the yard and toward the stables, where the real conversation waited.
The stables sat quiet at the edge of the yard, the faint rustle of horses shifting in their stalls carrying into the night.
Lilly was there, waiting in the aisle in the dim light, her arms folded like she was holding herself together.
When she saw me, she let them fall, and I crossed the space in three strides.
Our hug was brief but tight, enough for me to feel the familiar hitch of her breath against my shoulder before she eased back.
“You upset with me?” I muttered.
She shook her head, but her eyes didn’t quite match the softness of her voice. “No. It just feels like… there’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
Her words landed hard. A dozen questions pressed at the back of my throat, but only one pushed forward—the one I couldn’t ask. About the doctor. About whether she’d gone, whether we were really moving forward like she’d promised. But the words stuck there, too sharp for this fragile moment.
Instead, she touched my arm, steadying me in a way she probably didn’t realize. “Come by my cabin tomorrow morning. Sunny misses you. And…we’ll talk then.”
She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to my cheek, lingering just long enough for heat to spark through me. When she pulled back, her eyes searched mine for a beat, then she turned and slipped out into the night, her footsteps fading toward the laughter and music of the house.
I stood there alone, the echo of her lips still burning on my skin. Tomorrow might bring me closer to her—or it might pull us further apart.
Either way, I knew I’d be there.