Page 34 of Broken Reins (Whittier Falls #4)

I set the napkin aside and tried to smile, even though my eyes felt puffy and weird. “Thanks for coming, Caroline.”

“Can I ask you something?” she said, almost tentative.

I braced myself, then nodded. “Shoot.”

Caroline tucked her legs up underneath her, like she was about to get comfortable. “Do you ever think about him?”

It didn’t take a genius to know who she meant. Jim. “Every day,” I said, before I could think to lie. “But not the way you’d expect.”

Caroline waited, letting me fill the space.

I traced the chipped edge of the coffee table, then forced myself to say it. “I keep thinking if I’d just been braver, or smarter, or something—I could have left sooner. Maybe none of it would have happened.”

Her face didn’t change. She’d heard it before, probably from me, but this time it felt more final. Like a confession I’d never fully made. “I should have been stronger,” I said, and it came out tight, barely more than a whisper.

Caroline shook her head, but she was gentler this time. “You were strong. You survived.”

My throat closed, but I made myself keep talking. “You saved my life. I only survived because of you and Walker. That night at the clinic. If you hadn’t?—”

Caroline cut me off with a look. “You’re the one who came to me,” she said. “You’re the one who asked for help.” She reached across the coffee table, hand open. I hesitated, then let her squeeze my fingers tight. “That took more guts than anything I did.”

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.”

Ford looked at me, dead serious. “Why not?”

I gaped at him, then at the car, then back at him. “Because—because normal people don’t just buy someone a car!”

Ford shrugged, as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world. “I’m not exactly normal, Lil. And you’re not just someone to me.”

The sun caught on the windshield, sending a blinding flare straight into my eyes. “I can’t—there’s no way. You can’t just—what am I supposed to do with it?”

He smiled wider, like he’d expected this.

“Drive it. Keep Noah safe. Maybe take a weekend off and go somewhere fun. I know you walk most places you need to go, but I’m hoping you’ll spend more time at Chickadee, and even if not, you need something for when you have to go outside downtown.

” He pushed the keys toward my hand, insistent but gentle.

“You don’t owe me anything. I just want you to have it. ”

I glanced at Caroline, hoping for backup, but she was standing with her arms folded, smirking like a proud older sister. I waited for her to say something, but she just shrugged.

I shook my head, heat rising up my neck. “Ford, you can’t just?—”

He leaned in, dropped his voice. “Let me do something for you. Please. I promise, it’s not charity.” He hesitated, then added, “It’s because I care.”

I wanted to cry, or yell, or throw something, but instead I just stared at him and tried to make sense of the world. “I literally can’t believe this,” I muttered.

“I don’t think I can take it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a whole ass vehicle! And you’re—we just—we’re not even—” I couldn’t form full sentences.

“I’ll tell you what . . . you don’t have to decide anything right now. Just let it stay here in the lot and take the keys. If you really don’t want it in a couple weeks, then I’ll take it back.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

How could I be so elated over something, so touched by his thoughtfulness, and so angry at the same time?

I didn’t need him to swoop in and rescue me.

I didn’t need a car to take care of my son.

Sure, it might solve some problems, okay a lot of problems. But I wanted to earn what I had.

I didn’t know how to explain any of this to Ford, mostly because I didn’t know how to process it in my own mind either.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” I said honestly. At least I could voice that. I kissed him and turned around, grumbling and stomping up the stairs and into my building.

Caroline followed close behind. She leaned close, her voice low and mischievous. “Yeah, head over heels. You must have had some moves last night.”

I made a strangled gurgling sound and let the door slam behind us.