Page 13 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Burning House - Cam

Lily

H alf an hour before the school day started, I was confident. I believed I could rebuild my life in Silver Peaks, quietly, successfully, without crossing paths with Nash Miller.

Then the doors opened for Get To Know You Day.

And he walked in.

At first, I blinked stupidly, my heart pounding in my chest. Bertie, bouncing excitedly beside him, clutched his hand. And just like that, it hit me. She wasn’t just a Miller.

She was his.

For half a second, I tried to tell myself she might be a niece or a cousin. But one look at them together, and I knew. She had his eyes, his lips, even the same warm brown hair. A beautiful, living echo of him.

"Miss. Gray, Miss. Gray!" Bertie cried, dragging him over. "This is my Daddy! He made cupcakes!"

She beamed up at him, pure joy radiating from her tiny body.

"Show her, Daddy. Show her the cakes!"

Nash and I locked eyes.

The years disappeared. The ache, the regret, the love I had buried, it all roared back with a vengeance. My legs threatened to buckle.

"N-nice to meet you, Mr. Miller," I managed, my voice cracking.

He looked from me, to Bertie, and back again. Something flickered across his face, something raw and complicated. He cleared his throat roughly.

"Hello, Miss. Gray."

Bertie tugged his hand harder. "Show her the cakes, Daddy!"

Still staring at me, he lifted the bag like it weighed a thousand pounds.

"Thirty cupcakes," he said, voice low.

"Thank you," I whispered.

I forced a smile and motioned for Bertie to take them over to the sixth grader helping lay out food. She skipped away, unaware of the storm surrounding her.

Nash and I stood in silence. The air around us was thick with everything unspoken.

He exhaled slowly, like he was steadying himself. "You should have told me," he said, voice gentler than I deserved. "You should have warned me."

"I didn’t know," I said softly. "I didn’t know she was yours."

"The name Miller didn’t ring any bells?"

"It’s a common name," I said helplessly. “Cassidy has two in her class; there’s another one in the fifth grade and none of them are related to you or each other.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration written in every line of his body. But when he looked at me again, his anger wasn’t sharp, it was wounded. Quietly broken.

"God, Lily," he said, voice rough. "After everything... after everything we lost."

His words speared straight into my heart. I felt my knees weaken, but I stayed standing.

"I’m not here to cause trouble," I said quickly. "I would never hurt Bertie. Or you."

Something passed through his eyes—doubt, hope, pain—before he swallowed it down.

"I'm here for my daughter," he said finally, hoarsely. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Neither am I," I said quietly. "At least not intentionally."

The tiniest twitch pulled at the corner of his mouth, a ghost of the old Nash, but it vanished almost instantly.

"We’ll stay out of each other’s way," I added. "For Bertie’s sake."

He nodded stiffly. "Fine."

Bertie came running back, oblivious to the hurricane swirling around her.

"Daddy, come meet my friend! She has a dog with three legs! Can we get a dog like that?"

Nash chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Munchkin, that’s not a breed."

Her giggles were infectious. Against my better judgment, I laughed, too, a small, choked sound. Nash’s deep chuckle rumbled out, and for one beautiful, unbearable second, we all laughed together.

Then he glanced at me, and everything between us turned heavy again. The past was a living thing, clawing at us both.

Without another word, he took Bertie’s hand and walked away. And I stood there, aching for something I could never have back.

Later, as I circulated around the classroom, trying to focus on anything but him, I caught sight of Nash again. He was talking to Mrs. Butler. Laughing. A sharp twist of jealousy stabbed through me, stupid and uninvited.

I was halfway across the room when Mrs. Butler waved me over.

"Miss. Gray! We were just talking about the Summer Fair!" she said brightly. "Nash had some ideas."

I smiled stiffly. "Oh?"

Mrs. Butler beamed. "A kissing booth! Isn’t that fun?"

I blinked. "A... kissing booth?"

Nash’s face flushed instantly. "Not me," he said hastily. "I’ll rope Wilder into it."

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

"What’s so funny?" Nash asked, a teasing glint, faint but real, in his eyes.

"You always used to volunteer Wilder for things you didn’t want to do," I said, smiling despite myself. “Because he’s the youngest.”

His mouth tugged into a reluctant half-smile. For a second, just a second, it felt like old times. Felt like a sliver of light breaking through the fog.

Then his face shuttered closed.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Happy memories, huh?"

Before I could respond, Bertie called for him again. He turned without another word, walking away.

But just before he disappeared, he glanced back at me, and I saw it.

A crack in the armor. A glimpse of the boy who had once loved me with everything he had.

And it broke my heart all over again.