Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
LILY
Why is it that I feel more lost than ever?
I push my eggs around my plate; nothing has much taste anymore.
It’s been two months since I came to live with Teddy.
She’d never say this, but I’m starting to feel as though I’m overstaying my welcome.
I mean, the place is massive; you could get lost if you go down the wrong hallway, but still.
Teddy’s estate reminds me of a castle that was plucked out of Italy and dropped in Colorado.
It’s surrounded on most sides with stone walls and a fountain that never stops running and more bathrooms than you can count.
Like, seriously, I was bored and tried to count them.
I still don’t have a solid number of how many.
I mostly stay in the same three spaces: my bedroom, the kitchen, and the library with the window seat that looks out at the mountains. Sometimes I get the urge to go explore. But where would I go? What the hell would I even do?
Why didn’t Tristan chase me? That’s the real question that lingers in my mind. What happened to all that intensity he had when we’d all been in the penthouse in a face-off? Did he come to the conclusion I’m just not worth the trouble?
“You’re quiet today,” Teddy says, sliding onto the bench across from me at breakfast. She’s wearing one of Killian’s shirts, sleeves rolled to her elbows, a diamond on her left hand catching the morning light.
They’re married now. They’re adorable together.
Sometimes I can’t help but be a little envious, wishing I had someone to share my life with. Not just someone—Tristan.
“I’m always quiet,” I say. Well, quieter than her.
“Not like this.” She reaches for my hand, grabbing it, and I know it’s her way of saying we’re in this together. She wants to fix it. It can’t be fixed. I have to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. “Lily, you wanted this,” she reminds me. “You got out.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look like someone died?”
“Because they kind of did.” She gives my hand a squeeze. Tristan and I can’t have any kind of relationship. Perhaps in twenty years, when I have a family of my own, my infatuation with him will have faded. Right?
“You thought he’d chase.” It’s not a question. She’s got my number when it comes to Tristan.
“I don’t know what I was thinking.” I can’t help but wonder what he’s up to. Is it back to normal for him? How his life was before I was tossed into his lap. Is he spending more time with Sasha now that I’m gone? That thought sours my mood.
Teddy exchanges a look with Killian, who’s standing by the coffee maker. They’ve been doing that. The silent conversations, the worried glances. I feel like a ghost haunting their happiness.
“Killian,” I say, so that I can ask a question I’ve been dying to but wouldn’t allow myself. The name Tristan isn’t often said in this house. They’ve been avoiding it as much as I have. “What do you know about Tristan? Where is he? What’s he doing?”
The silence stretches. Killian sets down his coffee cup. “You want to know this?”
“I’m just curious.” I shrug. “There is a lot I don’t know about him, it seems.” I thought like his own father, he was simply a tech genius.
That’s why he works with the FBI from time to time.
He has skills they can use. I never asked because you’re not supposed to ask those things.
I knew that my father was the head of the FBI at one time.
“He always said he would find me. That there was nowhere I could hide. And he just... hasn’t. ”
Teddy’s expression softens. “Oh, Lily.”
“It’s fine.” I push back from the table; the urge to flee is strong. I’m developing a pattern. “Don’t look at me like that. I got what I wanted. I just want to know why he stopped.”
Killian’s eyes are careful, assessing. “I know things, and I could always find out more, but if I poke, there is a chance he pops up. Tristan is good at what he does, freakily so,” he says finally. “But you might not like the answer.”
“Try me.”
“Yeah, try her. Find the good stuff too, like he hates cats,” Teddy says.
Minnie, Teddy’s lynx, lifts her head and lets out a loud huff.
“And tips terribly. He probably doesn’t use turn signals when he drives, and he sends thumbs-up emojis.
Oh, better yet, does he clip his cellphone to his belt?
Got one of those earpiece things too, or oh God, does he answer the phone on speaker?
I’m not sure which is worse.” Teddy shakes her head like those are crimes worse than murder, her husband’s favorite pastime.
“I can tell you what I know offhand. As you already know, he works with more than the FBI,” Killian says, leaning against the counter. “Military contracts, black sites, things that don’t officially exist. The man doesn’t just find people. He builds the equipment that finds them.”
I stare at him. “What do you mean?”
“Drones, scanners, predictive programs. You send one of his drones into an area, it maps everything: heat signatures, movement patterns, and structural weak points. He inputs the data somewhere; I don’t know if it’s in his head or a computer, but he predicts outcomes.
Strike or don’t strike. Risk versus reward.
Lives saved versus lives taken.” Killian pauses, and I know I might not care for the next part.
“It’s saved a lot of lives on our side. Taken more on the other.
I’m not the only one with blood on my hands. I’m just more personal when I do it.”
“This is true. He can snap a neck,” Teddy adds, demonstrating with her hands. “Like, snap.” She jerks her arms and nearly topples off her seat.
Killian lunges forward, catching her before she falls. “Careful, Zolotse,” he murmurs, steadying her with his hands on her waist.
“I’m fine,” she laughs, but she’s glowing, leaning into his touch.
I watch them. The easy intimacy, the way he fusses over her—when you see Killian, you’d never think he’d be a person to fuss over anyone or anything.
I want it so badly it’s like a physical ache.
I want someone to catch me before I fall. Someone to look at me like I’m the only thing in the room. I want Tristan. You don’t know Tristan.
The thought arrives fully formed, unwelcome and undeniable.
“What do they say?” Teddy asks like we have a clue where she might be going with this. “To get over someone, you get under someone else.”
“What someone else?” Killian demands to know before the words are fully out of Teddy’s mouth.
“Not me.”
“I’ll kill someone else.”
“I know you will.” She pats his chest like he’s harmless. “I was thinking, what if we do a dating app?”
I raise my brows. “I don’t know about all that, plus the closest town is pretty small. Slim pickings.” We went to town a couple of times. It’s cute, but there’s not much to it.
“But it could be fun.” She wiggles around in her seat. “Just a tiny little peek.”
“Fine,” I agree as Ro enters the kitchen.
“How is there anything left for you to buy?” he asks, setting a pile of packages down.
“You’ve got to use it or lose it,” Teddy tells him.
“I think using your money is how you lose it,” I tell her with a small laugh. She shrugs. “Whatever is in those boxes better not be for me.” Teddy looks everywhere but at me. The ceiling, the window, her own fingernails.
“Teddy.”
“Okay, so hear me out—”
“When have you ever loved to shop?” I cut her off.
“For food!” She throws her hands up. “I love shopping for food. This is just... food for the closet. And the bathroom. And the—”
“Fine.” I hold up my hands in surrender. If it makes her happy. I can donate stuff later if need be.
I pull out my phone and check my emails. It’s the only account I have left that I didn’t delete, and I know Tristan has this email, but like always, there’s nothing, and I hate myself that I keep checking it. I should delete it too, but I’m not there yet.
“So. The dating app.” Teddy eyes my phone. “Can we?” She is about to bounce out of her seat.
“She will, won’t you, Lily?” I turn my head, and Killian is still standing there. How I forgot his giant ass, I have no clue. Fucker is freaky quiet. Killian is down for whatever makes Teddy light up.
“Yeah, sure.” What else am I doing? It might be entertaining.
I don’t have to go on anything. This is like sticking a tiny pinky toe into the water to test it.
I do have to admit, her squeal of excitement is kind of worth it.
It makes me smile, but it’s hard not to with Teddy. She even wakes up that perky.
“Search for dating apps and pick the first one that pops up. That’s how you know it’s popular.”
I type “dating apps” into the search bar. The first result loads immediately: Natsirt. Clean logo, simple interface, millions of downloads. Sounds good enough.
“This one,” I say, tapping it.
Teddy peers over my shoulder as it downloads. “Natsirt. Weird name. But okay. Let’s see it.”
The app opens to a profile creation screen. I fill it out, Teddy dictating half the answers, both of us dissolving into laughter at how ridiculous it all is. Okay, this is kind of fun.
Fluent in: sarcasm.
Second language: brunch menus.
My toxic trait is thinking I can cut bangs at home.
“Hey, I thought you killed the bangs.” I’d cut blunt bangs after being here a few days. I don’t know what came over me, but I’m kind of liking them.
“Perfect,” Teddy breathes. “You’re going to get so many matches.”
“With this bio?” I was more having fun and being silly.
“Because of this bio.” She bumps my shoulder. “Now strike a pose.”
“Vogue, vogue,” I sing and smile; Teddy snaps a picture.
“Let your body move to the music.” Teddy snaps a picture.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I sing back. “Come on, vogue.”
“What is a vogue?” Killian asks.
“Madonna,” Teddy answers before I can. “Now hit submit it.”
I press the button before I can second-guess myself. I can always delete. The screen processes, then clears to a simple message: Welcome to Natsirt. Start matching?
My thumb hovers over YES.
“Do it,” Teddy whispers, a little devil lightly on my shoulder. I tap it. “Now we wait,” Teddy says, satisfied.
All right, now what?
My phone stays silent. As do all of us, staring at it like something is going to happen.
Then it buzzes.
“Pick it up!” Teddy’s words burst out of her.
“Oh my God,” I laugh, grabbing my phone. “You tickled my eardrum.” She is still hovering next to my shoulder.
MATCH FOUND.
I stare at the notification, something unfamiliar pressing on my chest. It might be hope. It might just be a distraction.
Either way, I don’t click it. Not sure what I’m waiting for.
“See?” Teddy grins. “Told you.”
I pick up the phone, suddenly nervous for no reason. The match’s photo pops up.
I stare at the profile picture. It’s in black and white. You can’t really see the face. He’s looking to the right with his head tilted slightly downward. His fingers are in his hair, making the palm cover that side of the face. All you can make out really is a strong jawline and stubble.
He appears to be shirtless, showing some of his neck and shoulder. I mean, it’s a little annoying that you can’t see his face, but the picture is hot. You can see the veins in his forearms. He’s in good shape.
All right, that’s enough. This is making me feel strange. I lock the screen and set it back down.
“Later,” I say. “I’ll check it later.”
Teddy raises an eyebrow at me but doesn’t push. Yet.
I got what I wanted. I’m free.
So why does freedom feel like this?