Page 23 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

The Night We Met – Lord Huron

Lily

M y poor mom looked devastated. The color had drained from her cheeks until she was as white as fresh Colorado snow, clean and cruel at the same time. High-altitude heartbreak, right there in the living room.

"The M-Mayor knows?" she asked, her voice thin. Her bottom lip trembled as she pulled her robe tighter. "And he blackmailed you."

She dropped into the armchair like her knees had given out. Her fingers twisted the robe’s belt so tightly I thought she might tear it in two. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Only silence. And then a sound I hated, her breathing shaking like she couldn’t find a rhythm.

"Mom, I’m so sorry. I should have told you, but?—"

"But what, Lily?" she asked tearfully. "Why didn’t you say anything? Because you should have."

Her head jerked toward the hallway. "The tub, the water’s running, I?—"

"It’s fine," Grandma said, already rising. "I’ll sort it."

She squeezed Mom’s shoulder on the way past and let her voice harden to steel. "And don’t you forget, he’s in the past now. That sorry excuse for a man has no hold over you anymore."

Mom swiped at her tears. Her breath was still ragged. "Does he still have a hold over us?"

Guilt washed over me like a mountain storm, fast and brutal, leaving me drenched in shame. She deserved the truth. She deserved a hell of a lot more than I’d given her.

"I need to know, Lily," she whispered. "I can't stand the idea that he, that your… that either of them ruined your life."

"Mom, it’s not a problem. I did what I thought was best."

"No," she said, voice breaking. "You were happy. You and Nash had a future. He took that from you."

Her pain hit me like a hoof to the ribs. I’d lost so much; we had lost so much because of two selfish men who wanted to control every narrative.

"I know, Mom. But I couldn’t let him ruin your life too. You’d already been through enough... with da?—"

"Don't," she snapped, waving me off. "Don't mention him. He's not your father. Never was. Not really."

"I know." I slid onto the arm of her chair and wrapped her in a hug.

She held on tight for a few heartbeats, then pulled back, her eyes glassy with tears.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I should’ve been braver. I gave that man ammunition. I handed him the matchbook and stood there while he struck the flame."

"No, Mom. This wasn’t your fault. If it hadn’t been that Nash’s dad would’ve found another reason to drive us apart. He never wanted us together."

Mom looked at me carefully, eyes narrowing like she was seeing through the walls I still hadn’t torn down.

"And now you're back?"

“And now I’m back.” I hesitated. The truth lodged in my throat like a pit. "He demanded I stay away from Nash. Said Nash didn’t need me in his life."

"And if you don’t?"

I swallowed hard.

"Lily, sweetheart," she urged, clutching my hand. "Tell me. I need to know."

"He threatened your job. Said as a board member at the hospital, he’d make sure you were fired. And... that he’d still tell everyone about Dad."

Mom scoffed, bitter and tired. "That man’s dead. No one in Silver Peaks gives a damn anymore. We’ve weathered bigger scandals than a twenty-year-old conviction."

"Your job, though, Mom," I whispered. "You worked so hard. I couldn’t risk it."

Grandma swept back in like a prairie storm, arms crossed, mouth a hard line. "If that hospital dares fire you over something that fossil said, they’ll regret it. And if they do, we’ll manage. I’ll sell my house if I have to."

"Mom," Mom gasped. "You can’t, that’s your retirement."

"It’s my house, Ella. My name’s still on the deed, isn’t it?

I’ll do what I want. And what I want is for you both to be free of that man’s shadow.

" She stared at us. Unblinking. Unbending.

Waiting. "Now that’s sorted," she added briskly when we didn’t respond, clapping once.

"What are we doing about that sorry excuse for a Mayor? "

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Nash doesn’t need to know. He hates me. It won’t change anything."

"No way," Mom said, sudden fire flashing in her eyes. "You’re telling him. Even if nothing comes of it. Even if he still walks away. You deserve to be free of this."

"She’s right," Grandma added. "Dragging secrets around this town? That’s no way to live. Why do you think you married that cardboard cutout of a principal?"

"Grandma," I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

"You did. You married safe. You married boring. Because deep down, you knew Nash was the one person who could actually break your heart."

"She’s got a point," Mom murmured.

"It doesn’t matter," I said. "It’s irrelevant. Nash and I… we’re oil and water now."

"But what if—" Mom started.

"No, Mom. We have separate lives now."

Grandma’s eyes didn’t waver. She was holding back something, or maybe just giving me space to catch up.

"What did we say about telling the truth, Lily? About being surprised at the outcome?"

"I know, but…" I exhaled, defeated. "It feels pointless."

"You never know," Grandma said softly. "Love makes fools of all of us. Sometimes fools get lucky."

Mom slid her arm through mine and leaned her head against my shoulder.

"Don’t let your life drift, sweetheart," she whispered. "Don’t be like me, holding back from love because you don’t think you deserve it. Missing out because of someone else’s sins."

I stared at her, stunned. I’d never seen her like this. Never heard her voice like that.

For the first time, I saw the loneliness she’d carried all these years. Not anger. Not bitterness. Just quiet endurance. The same kind I’d learned too well.

"Mom..."

She waved it off with a watery smile. "It is what it is. But it doesn’t have to be your story too."

As we sat there, three women, three lives bent by the same storm, I realized the noise in my head had finally quieted. Not gone. But quiet.

Peace. Real peace.

"So?" Grandma said after a moment. "Are you going to tell Nash?"

I looked between them, heart thudding, throat tight.

"No," I whispered. "It’s the past. Nothing can change that."

Because as much as I wanted Nash to know the truth, I wasn’t ready to watch his face harden again. To see disappointment etched where love once lived.

I couldn’t risk it.

Not yet.