Page 13 of Broken Reins (Whittier Falls #4)

“It’s alright,” I said, looking at her instead of the bag. “He’s got a good grip.”

She smiled, and this time it was different. Less shy, more real.

A pickup rumbled past, throwing a fresh wave of dust over the sidewalk. Lily blinked, then stepped back, sheltering Noah from the grit with her body.

I found myself wanting to say something, anything to keep the moment going. “He’s got your smile,” I said, before I could think better of it.

She looked at me, startled, then down at her son. “Everyone says that, but I think it’s his dad’s,” she said. There was a quick shadow over her face, there and gone.

I wanted to say something comforting, but the words stuck. Instead, I offered Noah the handle of my bag, which he gripped with both hands and tried to lift. I pretended he was actually helping.

“Strong kid,” I said, glancing at Lily.

“He’ll be bench-pressing me by kindergarten,” she said, her voice lighter again.

“Why hasn’t your landlord fixed your faucet?” I heard myself ask. It wasn’t my business but I decided to make it my business.

She hesitated, then grinned. “Oh, he’ll get to it eventually. He’s about a hundred years old and probably has a laundry list of other complaints in the building. I put a bucket under the sink for now.”

Hmm. No. That wouldn’t do. “Where do you live?” The question probably would have gotten her hackles up normally, but she was distracted by Noah squirming to be let down.

“On the corner of Maple. Above the old pharmacy.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there at seven. That work for you?”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll fix your faucet. No reason you should wait when I can easily do it.”

“Um, no. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to. But I want to.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Because.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “That sounds like an answer Noah would give me.”

“Little man knows what’s up.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Why?”

“Well, I mean . . . because.”

“Oh, you sound just like Noah,” I said, not stopping the corners of my mouth from turning up. Lily was fucking adorable when she was flustered. And I found it interesting that I seemed to fluster her.

She blew out a breath, making her newly blonde bangs swirl around her face. “You have too many important things to do than fixing my faucet.”

“Like what?”

“Like . . . I don’t know, running a company?”

“Nope, I sold that.”

“Fine, moving in, then. I heard you were fixing up the Chickadee Ranch. That’s got to be one heck of a project.”

“Yeah, so taking a couple hours out of months’ worth of time aint no thing.”

She pressed her lips together in a stern face I bet she used on Noah at least twice a week. It made me smile harder.

“I don’t need charity.”

“Lily, it’s not charity. Might be hard to believe since I’m clearly a contender for Whittier Falls popularity contest, but you’re one of the only friends I have here in town. You need help with something, even though you won’t admit it. So just let me help.”

“Damn,” she whispered under her breath, and I knew I got her. “Fine, but I’m cooking you dinner as a thank you.”

“Deal,” I said, a little too fast.

We stood there for another second, the sidewalk suddenly feeling too small for the three of us.

Noah let go of the bag and cuddled into his mom’s shoulder.

She nuzzled his head with her cheek, then settled him back into the stroller.

He squirmed, giggling, and I watched the way she tucked the blanket around his knees and smoothed his hair.

There was something magnetic about the simplicity of it.

The way she focused so completely on her son, on the small details that kept him happy and safe.

It made my chest feel warm and tight and I didn’t know what to think about that.

I realized I wasn’t uncomfortable at all—not with the kid, not with Lily, not even with the looks I was probably getting from every window on Main.

I was just . . . there. Present. And for the first time since I’d come back to Whittier, it didn’t feel like the ground was about to drop out from under me.

She gave me a quick, nervous wave. “Well I gotta get him dropped off and get to work. See you tonight? Apartment 2C. The buzzer should be working . . . hopefully.”

“2C,” I repeated, my voice catching in my throat. “See you then.”

She started down the sidewalk, boots tapping out a rhythm. I watched her go, feeling a stupid, hopeful itch at the edge of my chest.

The drive out to the ranch was a blur of field and sky.

My mind kept circling back to the moment on the sidewalk—how easy it had been, how right.

For the first time since I’d gotten back, I didn’t feel like I was waiting for the next disaster.

Maybe the rumors and the whispers were just that—noise.

Maybe there was still a way forward, even for someone like me.

I parked the truck, carried the supplies inside, and started in on the prep work. But my mind was already at the pharmacy, picturing the blue door, the crooked steps, the sound of a leaky faucet.

I didn’t know what tonight would bring, or if Lily even wanted me around beyond fixing her sink. But I liked the idea of finding out.

There are worse things, I thought, than making yourself useful.

And sometimes, it’s the only way to prove you belong.