“What about you?” I asked. “Is baking your dream, or just a talent you’re blessed with?”
She chewed her bottom lip, thinking. “I always liked baking. As a kid, I would make cornbread and pies with my mom. But I thought I’d write, or teach, or do something that didn’t involve making bread at four in the morning.”
“You’d be good at it, the writing or teaching,” I said, and it wasn’t just a line.
She smiled at the compliment, but her eyes stayed sad. “It didn’t work out that way. I got married right after high school. Moved to a double-wide on the edge of town. At first it was fun, being a grown up, but . . .” She trailed off, fingers tightening on the edge of the stall.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I said, but she shook her head.
“It’s okay,” she said, voice stronger. “You can guess the rest. It’s not a town secret, anyway. He was nice until he wasn’t. Then he was awful.
Then there was Noah, and after that it was just about surviving, keeping my head down. I knew I couldn’t bring Noah up around that kind of man. I think he sensed it, too, because Noah’s first birthday was when Jim started getting worse. More violent. More open about it.”
I wanted to find this Jim and curb stomp his skull. But I kept my cool so I didn’t frighten Lily.
“He see Noah much?”
“No, thank god. He’s in prison. Noah doesn’t remember anything about him and I love that.”
A sense of relief washed over me, and I realized just how much I was falling for this woman and her little boy. I needed to know they were safe. Needed to be the one to keep them safe.
“You’re so strong, Lil.”
She smiled, but ducked her head. “I didn’t do it on my own.”
There was a long pause, heavy but comfortable.
She looked down at the floor, then up at me. “Do you ever think about what it would be like, if you’d stayed?”
“Not until I saw you,” I said, and it was the truth.
She let out a shaky breath, and I realized how close we were now—only a few inches between us, both leaning against the stall, side by side in the yellow light.
The rest of the world faded. It was just the two of us, and Athena snorting in the background.
I reached out, slow and deliberate, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t flinch, just closed her eyes and leaned into my hand. I wanted to kiss her, but I held back, not wanting to rush the moment.
She opened her eyes, and for a second, I saw everything she was feeling—fear, hope, the wild possibility that we could have something real.
“I’m scared,” she said, so quiet I almost didn’t hear her.
“Me too,” I said. “But I want this.”
She nodded, then pushed up onto her toes and kissed me.
At first, it was gentle. Just lips, soft and warm, her hands folded into the front of my shirt. But then she pulled me in closer, and the kiss deepened—hungry, urgent, like she was trying to drink me in. I held her by the waist, pressing her into the wall of the stable, heart hammering so hard I was sure she could feel it.
Her hands slid up to my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. I lifted her, just a little, enough so that she didn’t have to stretch, and she made a noise in the back of her throat that almost undid me. My own hands roamed, finding the dip of her back, the curve of her hip, the faint ridges of scars that only made me want to protect her more.
The world narrowed to the taste of her, the scent of vanilla overpowering all else, the feeling of her body pressed so tight against mine I could barely think. We kissed until we were breathless, until the only thing keeping me upright was the wall behind us and the need to stay right here, in this moment, forever.
She pulled back, eyes shining, lips swollen and pink. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” she whispered.
“Me too.”
We stood like that for a while, just holding each other. Eventually, she rested her head on my chest, and I stroked her hair, the feel of it like silk under my fingertips.
“We should probably get back,” she said, though I could tell she didn’t want to.
