I tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a hiccup. “You say that like you didn’t save us both that night.”
She snorted, her grip never loosening. “That’s my job, Lily. Maybe it was more adrenaline-filled than any other case I had, but it was work. What you did—that was life or death and it was fighting. You got out, you ran, you asked for help.” She let the words settle, then added, “It was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I only did it because Noah wasn’t in the house that night. Jim’s mother offered to babysit so we could have a date night. We never had date nights. The few times she babysat, Jim would insist on staying home so he could enjoy the game without Noah crying in the background.” I rolled my eyes but the tears came back too. Noah deserved deserved so much more.
“I don’t know why, but I had this feeling. Like if I didn’t leave then, I never would have made it out. He would have killed me.”
For a second, I couldn’t breathe. I blinked hard, but the tears fell in streams. “I don’t know if I’ll ever not feel guilty,” I said. “For putting you in that position. For putting Walker there. For putting Noah through—” My voice cracked.
Caroline squeezed my hand until the ache traveled up my arm. “You’re allowed to forgive yourself, Lily. You’re allowed to move on.”
I nodded, but the guilt didn’t lift. Not really. I wanted to say I’d try, but that felt like a lie too.
Instead I said, “Thank you,” and meant it.
We sat in silence, hands locked together, until the world outside reminded us there were still things to do. A car horn blared—short, two quick beeps. Caroline’s head jerked up at the sound, and my phone buzzed on the table.
It was a text from Ford:
Come downstairs.
I stared at the message, then showed it to Caroline. She raised her eyebrows, lips pulling into a lopsided grin. “You going to keep him waiting?” she asked.
I wiped my face and stood, my hand still tingling from where she’d held it. “You coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said, gathering her tote and sliding her shoes back on.
We moved to the door together, both pretending we hadn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes on the verge of tears. As we headed for the stairs, I caught Caroline’s eye, and she gave me a look that said, I’m here, no matter what.
The air outside was crisp and clean, the kind of mountain fall afternoon that makes you want to stand around doing absolutely nothing, just to feel the sun on your face. Caroline and I walked down the steps of the porch, shoes crunching on the gravel lot behind my building.
Ford was leaning against the hood of a brand-new car parked crooked in the lot. Not just any car—a sky-blue SUV, so shiny it practically broadcast its own weather system. The paint glimmered in the sun, pristine and blinding, so out of place among the battered pickups and dented sedans that it looked like a CGI insert.
He was dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt, an open flannel over top. His arms were folded, his hair still wet from a shower. He looked up as we approached, and the slow grin that spread across his face was both familiar and brand new.
“Hey,” he called out, voice echoing in the open space. “You made it.”
I stopped cold, staring at the SUV. For a second, I thought maybe he was just showing off, or had parked it there by accident. But Ford held up a set of keys and wiggled them, the metal flashing in the sun.
“Hi, Ford,” Caroline said, her voice all business but eyes dancing. She stayed a step behind me, like she knew I needed to go first.
“Hey, Caroline,” he said, polite and smooth, but his eyes never left me.
I swallowed, tried to find a cool way to ask what the hell was going on, but all I managed was, “Is that your car?”
He cocked his head. “Nope.”
I blinked. “You . . . stole it?”
He barked a laugh, shaking his head. I heard Caroline cackle behind me. “Not exactly.” Ford stepped closer, then did something that completely short-circuited my brain: he kissed me. Not a hesitant, first-date peck, but a real, casual, hello-we-do-this-all-the-time kiss. It was soft, warm, and over before I could even react, but my face caught fire anyway.
He pulled back and dangled the keys between us. “It’s yours.”
For a second, the world stopped. I just stared at the keys, my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish trying to form words.
Behind me, I heard Caroline snort softly.
“You’re joking,” I finally managed. “There’s no way.”
