Page 9 of The Lilac River

In the distance, Bertie let out a joyous yell and sprinted toward us, arms wide, face lit up.

“Shit,” Gunner said with a laugh. “How the fuck did you make something that perfect?”

I smiled as she launched herself at me.

“No idea,” I said, wrapping her in a hug. “Just luck, I guess.”

And I’d need all the luck in the world if I was going to protect the lavender farm. And avoid Lily Alice Jones.

Because the truth was, I didn’t know which would break me faster.

Chapter 4

New Rules – Dua Lipa

Lily

Two weeks until school started. Two weeks to prepare. Two weeks to settle. Two weeks to pretend like I wasn’t constantly looking over my shoulder.

I’d spent the morning setting up my classroom with all the tools I hoped would make learning feel like play. There was nothing worse than a boring teacher, and as the new one, I didn’t need the added curse of kids comparing me to their beloved former favorite.

Games at the math station, colorful posters, a bright world map—check. Everything was in its place. I spun slowly on the spot, assessing the room. Clean lines. Soft light. Cheerful but not chaotic. It looked safe. I hoped it felt that way too.

“All set?”

Mrs. Wright, the school principal, smiled from the doorway.

I exhaled with a grin. “I think so. It’s not my first rodeo, but still… first week jitters.”

She stepped inside, eyes crinkling kindly. “You’ll do fine. They’re a sweet bunch. Eadie loved teaching them.”

Eadie Carmichael had been my second-grade teacher once. How she hadn’t retired yet was beyond me.

“Big shoes to fill.”

“You’ve got your own shoes, Lily. Don’t forget that.” She tapped the map. “This is lovely. Kids will love the travel theme.”

“That’s the plan. If we can’t go places, we can at least dream about them.”

Mrs. Wright chuckled and turned to leave but paused at the door. “Monica Patterson, she’s Head of the PTA, will be popping in soon.”

The name hit me like a slap.

Of course she would.

Monica Carter back in high school. Queen Bee. The girl who made my teenage years hell. The girl who always wanted Nash. The girl who hated that he had chosen me.

I barely had time to brace myself before she walked through the door.

“Well, if it isn’t Lily Jones,” she purred. Her voice was like honey left out in the sun, sticky and turning sour.

“Hello, Monica.” I smiled with polite stiffness.

She looked around the classroom, her nose slightly wrinkled. “Very… bright. I hope you’re ready for the school year.”

“I am now.”

She crossed her arms under a designer blouse. “My daughter Camila is in fourth grade. She’s gifted. We’re exploring more… appropriate options for her.”