Page 33 of Broken Reins (Whittier Falls #4)

Nineteen

Lily

I t was almost noon before I realized the only thing I’d eaten all day was a single, questionably stale animal cracker I’d found on the coffee table.

The apartment was clean—freakishly clean, considering the state I usually left it in—but I kept finding ways to busy myself.

Dusted the shelves. Rearranged the mugs.

Wiped the kitchen table three times, each with a fresh, citrus-scented wipe.

I even tried to vacuum a second time, until I remembered the motor screamed like a dying banshee and I didn’t want to risk my landlord’s passive-aggressive notes about “respectable noise levels.”

Noah was at preschool and I had the day off without the need to run errands or rush to therapy appointments. Which meant, for the first time in ages, the apartment was silent enough to hear my own thoughts rattling around. That was a dangerous thing to leave unsupervised.

I checked my phone—again. Caroline was supposed to come by for coffee at one. She’d texted at six AM (overachiever) to remind me, and again at noon to confirm. I’d replied with a thumbs up, because I didn’t trust myself to use actual words without sounding like I was about to have a stroke.

The real reason for all this nervous energy was still sprawled out in the back of my mind, like a six-foot-two, tattooed, blue-eyed memory of last night.

I’d replayed every second of it—the way Ford held me, the things he said, the things he did to me—so many times that the tape was starting to go fuzzy.

Every time I stopped moving, my brain would loop back to the way he’d looked at me after, like I was the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth.

Or maybe I was just desperate to believe that.

At 12:53, I made the coffee. Caroline liked hers strong, no sugar, just a splash of milk. I set up the mugs, then immediately redid them so they’d be more “casually inviting,” whatever that meant. I checked the clock. Again. My hands were shaking, just a little.

I made a list of all the ways this was going to be a disaster:

1. Caroline would see right through me and know immediately that I’d slept with Ford.

2. Caroline would NOT see right through me, and I’d have to actually say it out loud, which might be worse.

3. I would start crying for no reason, because that’s what happened whenever I talked about my feelings for more than two minutes.

4. Ford would show up unannounced and we’d have to explain why he was in my apartment, or worse, why he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

The buzzer went off at exactly 1:00. I let out a breath, walked to the door, and tried to look like I hadn’t been lurking in anticipation for the past hour.

Caroline swept in like a spring wind—auburn hair pulled back into a chic bun, scrubs crisp and immaculate, that particular brand of medical-professional calm that made you believe everything would be okay as long as she was around.

She carried a tote bag slung over one arm, emblazoned with the words I’m all booked up.

Her smile was the kind that made you want to confess all your sins just to bask in the absolution.

“Hey,” she said, letting herself in and toeing off her shoes.

“Hey. Coffee’s ready,” I replied, like a robot programmed to serve.

She grinned, arching an eyebrow at my over-casual tone, but didn’t call me on it. We sat at the tiny kitchen table, hands wrapped around the mugs. She took a sip, eyes flicking to me over the rim. “You look good, Lily.”

I barked a laugh. “You mean, not completely dead?”

She shook her head, that little shake she reserved for hopeless patients. “No, I mean it. There’s color in your face again. You seem . . . happy.”

Happy was a stretch, but I let her have it. “It’s just the hair,” I joked, tucking a strand behind my ear for the twelfth time that morning. “New color, new me.”

Caroline set her mug down, both hands folded around it. “Hmm, that’s not it.”

Should I blurt it out? That I’d spent last night in Ford’s bed, did things to him I hadn’t let myself even imagine for two years, and then woke up feeling like I’d been patched together with new thread?

That I was terrified he’d regret it, or that I would?

That I wanted to text him already, but didn’t want to seem desperate?

Instead I just stared at my coffee, swirling the surface with my finger. The words crowded up in my throat, but wouldn’t get in line. Finally, I blurted, “I slept with him.”

Caroline blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait—Ford?”

I nodded, feeling my face go nuclear. “We slept together last night.”

She leaned in, lips curling into a sly, knowing smile. “And?”

“And . . . it was good.” I ducked my head, heat flooding my ears. “Like, really good. Amazing. But I think I might have broken my brain.”

Caroline snorted. “Oh, so it was that good.” Caroline set her mug down and grinned at me, all green eyes and no judgment. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, as if we were about to dissect a very interesting patient. “Start from the top.”

I took a breath, then immediately wished I’d practiced this in the mirror.

“Okay. He invited us over for dinner, like, actually cooked, and after Noah crashed on the couch, we sort of—” My voice went squeaky and I had to cover it with a cough.

“—we went upstairs. And I don’t know, Caroline, it just happened. ”

Caroline’s lips twitched, but she managed to look appropriately concerned. “Did you want it to happen?”

“I mean . . . yes. God, yes. It was my horny idea to go upstairs in the first place. He’s been entirely too gentlemanly this whole time.

” The blush was a physical force, climbing up my neck into my scalp.

“But I thought—I thought maybe I’d freak out, or back out, or, I don’t know, catch fire and die.

” I clutched the mug tighter, knuckles whitening. “But I didn’t.”

Caroline’s face melted into real warmth. “So what’s the problem, Lily?”

I stared at my hands. “I don’t know what happens next,” I said.

“I mean, it’s been years, Caroline. I barely remember what normal looks like.

And Ford—he’s so . . . Ford. A billionaire who now owns a ranch and actually works with his hands?

You should see it, he’s redoing the house himself.

He bought a horse, for god’s sake. He’s like this magical mix of Hallmark movie hero and down and dirty wrangler.

He could have anyone. I don’t want to get my hopes up. ”

“Is that all?” Caroline laughed, a soft, professional laugh, but her eyes were kind. “Lily, you should see the way he looks at you. That man is head over heels.”

I shook my head, hair slipping forward. I tucked it behind my ear, then immediately regretted the habit. “He doesn’t look at me like that.”

Caroline arched an eyebrow so high I thought it might shoot right off her face. “Are you kidding? He basically beams at you like he’s just discovered a new element. I’ve seen less intensity from people staring at the sun.”

I tried to imagine what that looked like. To Ford, I was just—“I’m not even that interesting,” I said, voice hollow.

Caroline patted my hand, but didn’t break eye contact. “Stop. You are fascinating, and smart, and gorgeous, and one of the only people in town who doesn’t judge him for his past. He knows that. He likes it.”

I didn’t have a good comeback, so I just shrugged.

Caroline didn’t let up. “Let yourself be happy for five minutes, Lily. Please.” She reached across the table and squeezed my wrist, gentle but firm. “You deserve this.”

I let the words sink in, or tried to. “But what if it doesn’t mean as much to him?” I asked, whispering. “What if this is just . . . I don’t know, an experiment? Or a way to forget whatever happened before?”

Caroline shook her head, a hint of exasperation breaking through her cool. “Did you guys talk about expectations? Or are you just assuming it’s temporary?”

I fidgeted with the handle of my mug. “We didn’t talk about it. We just sort of—” I made a vague hand gesture that could have meant anything. “It felt like the right thing in the moment, but afterwards, he was so quiet. I didn’t know if it was good or bad.”

“He was probably just overwhelmed,” Caroline said, “or afraid to scare you off.” Her gaze softened again. “You should text him.”

I recoiled, scandalized. “Already? Isn’t there a rule? Like, a three-day rule?”

She laughed again, this time with more bite. “That’s for high schoolers. If you want to talk to him, just talk to him.”

I bit my lip, chewing it over. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It isn’t,” she agreed. “But you’re not the same person you were three years ago, Lily. You’re a warrior now. If you want him, say so.”

My face heated up again, but I tried to breathe through it. “What if I say something wrong? What if he thinks I’m needy?”

Caroline’s voice went soft, but her words were sharp. “You’ve survived worse than being called needy. You’re allowed to want someone, Lily. It doesn’t make you weak.”

I wanted to believe her. I really did.

A silence stretched between us—not awkward, just full. I looked up and found Caroline still watching, the corners of her mouth pulled into a conspiratorial smile.

“Can I give you some medical advice?” she asked.

I tried to muster a laugh. “Only if you promise not to use a speculum.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. “I prescribe you one day of reckless optimism, followed by at least twelve hours of doing exactly what you want.” She squeezed my hand again. “You earned it.”

I laughed, for real this time, but then tears blurred the edges of my vision. “Sorry,” I said, wiping at my cheeks. “Didn’t mean to go all weepy on you.”

Caroline grabbed a napkin from the counter and slid it my way. “It’s okay. Sometimes you need to cry it out.”

I wiped my face, then blew my nose with a ridiculous honk. Caroline grinned, like she’d just confirmed a diagnosis. “See? Already looking more optimistic.”