16. Sixteen
Sixteen
Luke
The tour bus hasn’t even fully stopped before I grab my bag. Dad’s nurse called again this morning—not with bad news this time, but to tell me he was sitting in the garden and eating. All thanks to Lila.
“Let me know once you hear anything, Luke,” Cass calls as I head for my Jeep.
The drive to Dad’s place feels endless, even though traffic is light. The second I pull into the driveway of my dad’s house I feel the tension in my chest start to ease. The ten-day tour was grueling—back-to-back shows, interviews, endless hours on the bus—but none of it compared to the weight of knowing Dad wasn’t doing well while I was hundreds of miles away.
Looking at the house, I am aware something feels different. There’s life here again—curtains drawn back, windows open to the spring breeze, and the faint sound of laughter drifting from the back garden.
I follow the sound, stopping short at what I see. Dad and Lila are sitting on Mom’s old garden swing, surrounded by blooming roses. Lila’s saying something that makes him laugh—actually laugh—
“Luke!” She spots me first. “You’re back early.”
Seeing Lila in my mom’s garden, her golden hair practically glowing in the morning light, makes my heart stutter. The roses Mom planted years ago are still thriving, their vivid reds and pinks standing out against the green hedges. Seeing them always makes my heart ache, yet it soothes me at the same time.
“Couldn’t wait to see what trouble you two were getting into.” I hug my father, noting with relief that he feels stronger and more present than he has in weeks. “You look good, Dad.”
“Feeling better, thanks to this one,” he says, nodding toward Lila. “She’s a miracle worker. ”
Lila ducks her head, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “Just doing what I can.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” I say, meeting her gaze. “More than you know.”
Her smile slightly falters like there’s something on her mind. But before I can ask, Dad shifts in his seat, grunting slightly. “Alright, I’m going to head inside and let you two catch up. Don’t let her leave without saying goodbye.”
I start to help him, but he waves me off. “I’m fine, you two enjoy yourselves.”
We watch him shuffle back toward the house his movements slow but steady. Once he’s out of earshot, I turn to Lila. “Thank you,” I say again, my voice quieter.
“You don’t have to thank me,” she says, leaning back in her seat. “I wanted to help.”
“You’ve done more than help,” I say, shaking my head. “You’ve made him smile again. I haven’t seen that in a long time.”
She shrugs, but there’s a softness in her expression that makes my chest tighten.
I settle onto the swing beside her, and when my arm brushes hers, a sizzle goes up my spine, and I’m suddenly aware of how close she is, close enough for me to see the softness of her hair. Close enough to feel a tension radiating off her.
“Lila,” I say, breaking the silence. “Is everything alright?”
She hesitates, her hands twisting in her lap. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she says, her voice low.
I sit up straighter, my stomach tightening at her tone. “What is it?”
She takes a deep breath, her gaze fixed on the roses in front of us. “I overheard something at a dinner party—the first one I catered. A conversation.”
My pulse kicks up, and I nod for her to continue.
“These men were talking about Sterling Motors,” she says, her words measured. “They said it was going under and that they were planning to ‘swoop in and grab it for pennies.’ They mentioned Marcus—said he had it all arranged. And they seemed smug like it was already a done deal.”
The words hit me like a blow to the chest. “They actually said Marcus’s name?”
“Yes,” she says, her eyes meeting mine, and the concern there makes my chest tighten. “And they said certain arrangements had been made, and Sterling Motors wouldn’t be able to fight back.”
“When was this?” I ask.
“About six weeks ago?” She twists her hands together. “I didn’t know then about your connection to Sterling Motors. But after spending time with your dad and hearing about Marcus’s involvement...”
“It fits,” I say grimly. “The timing, the pressure about Crystal...” I stare at her, my mind racing. It’s one thing to suspect Marcus is up to no good—it’s another to have it confirmed.
Lila watches me carefully, her hazel eyes filled with regret. “I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t think it was connected to you. But now—now I understand why you’ve been doing what you’re doing.”
She knows.
She knows about Crystal and why I’ve stayed in this nightmare of a situation. The relief is immediate like a weight being lifted.
“Lila,” I say, my voice raw. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” she says quickly. “I get it now. You’re trying to protect your dad, the company, the employees. But, Luke...” She hesitates, her hand brushing against mine. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
Her words knock the wind out of me.
“I want to help,” she says, her voice firm. “We’ll figure this out together. For your dad, the company, and for you.”
I shake my head, overwhelmed by her offer. “Lila, this isn’t your fight. You’ve already done so much—“
“And I’m not stopping now,” she interrupts, her gaze steady. “You deserve better than this, Luke. You deserve to be free of Marcus and Crystal. You deserve to live your life the way you want to.”
“She’s right, son.” We both look up in surprise to see my dad standing there. He’s obviously overheard us talking.
Lila stands. “I’ll give you two some time—“
“Stay,” I say quickly. “Please?”
Something flickers in her eyes, but she nods. “I’ll make some fresh coffee.”
As soon as she disappears inside, Dad turns to me. “She’s something special, son.”
“Dad— “
“No, listen.” His voice grows serious. “These past two days, having her here... It reminded me of things I’d forgotten. Important things.”
“Like what?”
“Like how your mother would never have wanted us to let Marcus Davidson destroy everything we built. How you need to live your own life.”
My breath catches. “What all do you know?”
He sits down in the chair across from us. “Not as much as I should. I heard what Lila told you—about Marcus’ investors remarks at that dinner party.”
Before he can continue, Lila returns with coffee.
Leaning back in the swing, I run my hands over my face. “Dad, I was already suspicious of Marcus and hired a private eye to investigate him. Jaxson Gibson and his team. They’ll also be looking at the company’s finances. They should know something soon.”
“Son.” Dad leans forward. “I’ve been a fool. Letting Marcus get his hooks into the company, thinking I could trust him...”
“You were trying to save Mom,” I say softly.
“And now you’re trying to save me.” He shakes his head. “No more. I won’t let you sacrifice your happiness for my mistakes.”
“It’s not that simple—“
“Actually,” Lila cuts in, “maybe it is.” We both look at her. “Sorry, but... you’re both so focused on what you might lose, you’re not seeing what you have.”
“Which is?” I ask.
“Evidence.” Her eyes light up the way they do when she’s planning a complicated menu. “Think about it. Those men at the party were talking about arrangements already being made. If we or the investigator can prove that Marcus is deliberately trying to tank the company...”
“Yes, of course,” Dad says, sitting straighter now. “But we’ll need concrete proof. Documents, recordings...”
“What was that PI you mentioned?” Dad asks me. “Gibson?”
“I’m meeting with him tomorrow.” I run a hand through my hair. “But what if we don’t find anything...”
“Then we fight,” Dad says firmly. “United this time. No more letting Marcus manipulate either one of us. ”
We spend the next hour discussing strategies and different theories. The only interruption is Marie as she leaves for the night. We all stand, and I notice my father seems more vibrant and less fragile. Like he’s finally got something to live for—fight for.
“It’s time for dinner,” Lila says as the sun starts to set. “I put leftovers in the fridge earlier.”
“You have more of that spaghetti?” Dad asks, and my chest tightens. He hasn’t shown an interest in food in ages.
“Yes.” Lila helps him up from the swing. “And garlic bread.”
Inside, the kitchen feels different—warmer, lived-in. Signs of Lila’s presence are everywhere. A pitcher of iced tea sits ready on the counter. The familiar scent of Italian spices and toasted garlic bread drifts in the air as Lila warms up the leftovers.
“I can’t remember the last time this kitchen felt so... alive,” Dad says softly, settling at the island while Lila moves efficiently around the space.
I watch her spoon spaghetti onto plates, the domestic scene hitting me right in the chest. This is what I want—not Crystal’s cold perfection or Marcus’s corporate schemes—just this: family and warmth and Lila looking completely at home in the family kitchen.
“Here.” She slides plates in front of us, then adds thick slices of crusty bread. “It’s better as leftovers anyway.”
“This is...” Dad’s voice catches. “Very good. Sarah really wasn’t a very good cook—I think that’s why Luke is constantly hungry.”
We all share a laugh. Lila squeezes his shoulder as she sits with her own plate. “Tell me more about her. You said she was an amazing gardener.”
For the next two hours, we talk and eat and remember. Dad tells stories I haven’t heard in years—about Mom’s failed attempts at cooking, about the time she accidentally dyed all our laundry pink, and how she used to sing while working among her roses. He even takes a few harmless jabs about my teenage band rehearsals in the garage. Lila listens with an easy smile, her laughter filling the room like a melody.
It’s past ten when Dad finally yawns. “You two should stay,” he says. “It’s late, and you’ve both had long days.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—“ Lila starts.
“Please?” Dad gives her that look—the one that always made Mom cave. The same one I hopefully inherited. “The guest rooms are all made up, and it’s a long drive back to Jacksonville. ”
She glances at me, uncertain.
“Stay,” I say softly. “Marie would feel better knowing someone’s here overnight anyway.”
“Well...” She smiles. “I did promise to show you how to make proper French toast in the morning.”
Dad beams. “That’s settled then. Luke show her to the guest room. I’m going to turn in.”
He hugs us both—before heading upstairs. I lead Lila to the guest room, trying not to think about how right it feels having her here.
“Your room’s right here,” I open the door, and she follows me inside. “Bathroom’s connected.” As I turn to leave, I suddenly turn back. “I forgot you might need something to wear tomorrow.”
“I have spare clothes in my catering kit,” she says. “Always be prepared, right?”
“Right.” I hesitate at her door, the air suddenly thick with everything we’re not saying. “Lila...”
“Don’t.” But she doesn’t move away when I step closer. “Luke, we shouldn’ t...”
“I know.” My hands find her waist, drawing her closer. “Tell me to stop.”
Instead of answering, she rises on her toes, her fingers curling into my shirt. When our lips meet, it’s like a culmination of every kiss we held back these past weeks. Her mouth opens under mine, soft and warm and perfect, and I press her roughly against the doorframe.
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat that nearly undoes me. My hands tangle in her hair as the kiss deepens, becoming something hungry, desperate, and dangerous.
“We should stop,” she whispers against my mouth, even as her body arches into mine.
“I know.” But I can’t resist trailing kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse race under my lips.
“Luke...”
I force myself to step back. Her lips are swollen, her eyes dark. I turn to leave, but I just can’t do it. I can’t leave her standing here alone—not now that she knows the truth about Crystal.
Turning, I quietly shut the door. When I turn, I notice how her breath quickens, betraying how much she wants this, too.