Page 36 of Broken Reins (Whittier Falls #4)

He paused, hands folding on the bar, gaze getting glassy.

“She wasn’t always like she is now, you know.

Lily used to be . . . loud. Not, like, scream at a football game loud, but she’d talk your ear off if she was excited, or crack jokes to anyone who’d listen.

I remember it when she was a teen, workin’ at the five and dime.

She’d get on these tears about baking or some book she was reading.

Jim hated that about her. Wanted her soft, quiet, easy to manage. ”

“She’s still funny,” I said. I remembered the way she’d deadpan about her disasters in the kitchen, the subtle smirk that gave away every punchline even before she delivered it. “It’s just . . . more cautious now.”

Walker’s smile returned, but this time it was pure regret.

“You should’ve seen her two years ago. She was a ghost. Used to come into the diner and just stare at the menu for twenty minutes, like she didn’t remember what food was for.

I think it was the only place she ever got to be alone, because Jim worked mornings at the mill and left her with the baby.

She’d sit there, eat half an omelet, and leave like she’d never been. ”

I wanted to ask what happened next, but I didn’t. I already knew it wasn’t good.

Walker turned his bottle in circles, the label slowly dissolving under his thumb.

“I won’t sugarcoat it. Jim got mean, fast. Started drinking, yelling in public.

There was a night he got thrown out of the Barrel for breaking a pool cue over some guy’s head.

That’s when the cops started paying attention. ”

He looked up, fixing me with a stare. “But cops in Whittier Falls don’t want to get in the middle of a domestic unless they absolutely have to. Jim knew that, and Lily knew that. So she just kept her head down and hoped things would get better.”

“Did they?”

He snorted. “Of course not. But here’s the part people don’t like to talk about: most folks in this town would rather believe in the fairy tale than admit the truth. So when Lily finally came to Caroline for help, everyone acted like it was this huge surprise, even though we all saw it coming.”

He dropped his voice to a whisper, so low I had to lean in.

“That night, Jim found out where she was. Showed up at the clinic with a gun and a bottle of cheap whiskey. Caroline had locked the doors, barricaded them in the back as best she could, but he just fired through the glass. He hit Lily in the side before she even knew what was happening.”

I could feel my heart thudding, cold and steady.

Walker kept talking, but now his voice was flat, clinical.

“If it weren’t for Caroline texting me .

. . I don’t want to think about what would have happened.

I showed up and tried to talk him down, but it was no use.

Bastard shot me too. Caroline saved our lives, man.

Patched us both up enough to keep us breathing until the ambulance came. ”

He paused, flexing his left arm like he could still feel the pain. “They airlifted Lily to Billings. She almost died. But the worst part is, when she woke up, she didn’t ask about herself. First thing she said was, ‘Where’s Noah?’”

“Jesus,” I said.

“Yeah,” Walker replied. “That’s about the size of it.”

I wanted to ask what happened to Jim, but I didn’t have to.

“He’s serving twenty to life,” Walker said, reading my mind.

“No parole, no appeals. The judge saw to that. But it didn’t fix anything.

Lily moved into her sister’s for a while, tried to get her feet back under her.

She wouldn’t let anyone help. Wouldn’t let anyone pay for daycare, or groceries, or even a cab ride to the doctor’s. Said she’d figure it out herself.”

He drained the last of his beer, then signaled for two more. When the bartender dropped them off, Walker took a long pull before he spoke again.

“You see why she freaked out about the car now? She spent the past two years clawing her way back to being her own person. Last thing she wants is to feel like she owes anything to anyone.”

I felt the heat rise in my face, but this time it was shame, not anger.

“I just wanted to make her life easier,” I said, but the words sounded hollow.

Walker patted my shoulder, rough but not unkind. “I know. It was a real nice thing. But you didn’t know. Now you do.”

I finished my whiskey in two quick gulps, the burn less forgiving this time.

We sat in silence for a while, the only sound the scrape of glasses and the low twang from the jukebox.

I replayed every interaction with Lily—the way she always insisted on paying for her own coffee, how she’d flinch if you touched her arm without warning, how she’d rather walk a mile than ask for a ride.

She didn’t just want independence; she needed it, the way some people needed air.

I wished I could go back and do it right, but I couldn’t. All I could do was try to fix what I’d broken.

Walker stood, settling his hat on his head. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty, slapping it on the bar for the bartender. “You want some advice?”

I looked up, waiting.

“Apologize to her. Not for the car, not for wanting to help. Just—tell her you get it. Tell her you’re not trying to be a hero. She doesn’t need one.” He smiled, then turned to go. “But if you’re lucky, she’ll let you stick around anyway.”

He left me alone at the bar, where I sat for hours, not even drinking, just thinking about life. About what I’ve done so far. About what I wanted. About things that happened in the past that I’d tried hard to forget.

Lily was stronger than me. I knew that for sure now. She’d been beaten down—emotionally and physically—for god knows how long, and she almost didn’t make it out. But she did. And she refused to accept help. Which also made her more than a little stubborn, but I understood why.

And now she was thriving. Giving Noah a safe home and all the love in the world.

I was in awe of her.

I closed out my tab and wandered outside into the evening air. The cold hit me hard, waking up every nerve in my face. I didn’t bother with the main street this time. I just walked, head down, boots crunching through the occasional brown leaves coating the sidewalk.

I thought about Lily—about how, every time I looked at her, I wanted to take away all the bad things she’d ever felt. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Some things, you had to let people own for themselves.

The windows of her apartment were dark, but I could see a faint glow under the curtain. Probably reading, or maybe just staring at the wall, wondering what disaster I’d bring next.

I stood outside, hands jammed in my pockets, heart beating slow and hard. For once, I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have a script or a backup strategy. All I could do was be there.

I texted her: Are you awake?

She replied a minute later: Yeah.

I hesitated, then typed: Can I come up? Just want to talk.

A pause, then: Sure.

My hands shook as I climbed the steps, but it wasn’t from the cold. I reached her door, took a breath, and knocked.

When she opened it, she looked tired but not mad. She wore an old sweatshirt and pajama pants, and her hair was pulled up into a messy knot that made her look about nineteen. Noah was nowhere in sight—probably asleep.

I tried to smile, but it didn’t stick. “Hey.”

She didn’t smile back, but she didn’t close the door in my face, either. “Hey.”

I stepped inside, waiting for her to say something, but she just stood there, arms folded. So I did the only thing I could.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “About earlier. I didn’t mean to mess things up for you.”

She looked at me, eyes guarded. “You didn’t mess anything up. I just—I don’t need rescuing, Ford.”

“I know.” And for the first time, I actually meant it.

“I don’t want to owe anybody,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Not after—everything.”

I nodded. “You don’t. Not to me. Not ever.”

She relaxed, just a little. “Thank you.”

We stood in the narrow hallway, close enough that I could hear her breathing. I wanted to touch her, to reassure her, but I kept my hands in my pockets.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Anything.”

“Why me?” Her voice cracked on the last word. “You could have anyone, and you picked the girl with all the baggage.”

I shook my head, searching for the right words. “Because you’re real. Because you’re tough. Because you don’t let anyone tell you what you’re worth.” I paused, then added, “And because you make me want to be a better man.”

She looked down, biting her lip. When she looked back up, there were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling.

“You already are,” she said.

We stood there, the silence comfortable for the first time.

Finally, she reached for my hand, tentative at first, then sure.

She led me inside, shutting the door behind us.

I didn’t know what came next.

But I was ready to find out.