Page 27 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Sorry - Halsey

Lily

T he classroom buzzed with the kind of busy chaos teachers dream about, giggles, whispered math strategies, the scrape of chairs on tile.

Paired up and elbow-deep in their More or Less Than Thirty game, my students laughed, argued, and scribbled on whiteboards with the confidence only third graders possessed.

But my head wasn’t in the game.

I sat perched on the edge of my desk, nodding absently when someone called my name, pretending to watch the room while my gaze kept drifting toward the window.

There was no view of The Last Creek Ranch from here, just the school playground and, beyond that, the scraggy rise of pine-dotted hills, but my heart wandered anyway.

Last night lingered like smoke. Every word. Every look. Every ache that hadn’t dulled in ten years.

I’d almost told him.

The truth had been right there, ready to fall from my lips.

That his father had blackmailed me. That I left because I thought I had no other choice.

But the words stuck in my throat, too tangled in fear to escape.

Fear of what Nash would do. Fear of what would change. Fear of what might be destroyed—again.

Secrets were heavy. They pressed on your lungs; made you feel like you were drowning in plain air.

I flinched slightly when someone slid onto the desk beside me. Cassidy.

"Dime for your thoughts," she said, eyes sharp even behind the casual smile. "Or are they so hot they’re worth more than that?"

I nudged her gently with my elbow. "There are children present."

"Which means you’re definitely thinking something scandalous," she teased.

Then lowered her voice. "Alright, out with it. You’ve got that moon-eyed look that only comes from unresolved emotional tension and, what was it, oh yeah, a heated kiss with your former soulmate in the back hallway of the local bar? "

I sighed and leaned back. "I had dinner with Nash."

Her mouth dropped open, and for once, she didn’t even bother to disguise her reaction.

"We are absolutely going to Missy May’s for lunch," she declared. "No excuses. And don’t tell me you brought your cute little lunchbox. I checked the fridge. It’s not there."

I blinked. "You checked the fridge?"

"You think I wouldn’t? Girl, I am invested ."

I laughed despite myself. "Grandma thinks the lunchbox is hilarious."

Before Cassidy could launch into a hundred follow-up questions, a small hand tugged at my sleeve.

"Miss. Gray?"

Elodie looked up at me, eyes bright with the kind of news only eight-year-olds could deliver.

"Hey, Elodie. What’s up, sweet girl?"

"Bertie called me this morning. She said to tell you thank you for taking care of her. Also—" Elodie leaned in dramatically "—she thinks you’re really pretty."

I bit back a sudden wave of emotion. "Thank you for passing that on. That was very thoughtful."

Cassidy waited until Elodie skipped away. Then she leaned in with a knowing grin. "I think you just melted."

I didn’t deny it. I’d melted the second I saw Bertie curled up in bed last night. The second she reached for me like I already belonged there.

Missy May’s was bustling by noon. The scent of grilled cheese and burger grease wrapped around me like a blanket the second we walked in. Cassidy snagged a booth near the window, ordering two sweet teas.

"Alright," she said, gripping the menu like she was preparing for battle. "Spill."

I traced the curve of the sugar dispenser. "We argued. Last night. After dinner."

Cassidy didn’t even blink. "Dinner with a dessert of anger. You two could heat half of Silver Peaks with your emotional repression."

"It’s not funny."

“Sorry.” She sobered. "Why argue? Did he say something that crossed a line?"

I shook my head. "No. Nothing like that. I mean, he was mad. Really mad. He asked why I left. And I almost told him. I wanted to tell him. But..."

"You froze."

I nodded. "What if he finds out and it only makes things worse? What if he blames me more for lying, for staying away, for not trusting him?"

Cassidy didn’t answer right away. She let the silence stretch, giving it weight.

"You’re scared," she said eventually. "That’s allowed. But he’s already hurt, Lily. Not telling him won’t protect him. It just leaves him in the dark."

Out the window, I spotted a young mom dragging a tantruming toddler past the diner. The kid wailed, face red and tear-streaked.

"Poor thing," I murmured.

Cassidy followed my gaze. "What?"

"Being that small must be terrifying," I said quietly. "No wonder they cry. The world’s so big and loud. You don’t know what’s safe yet."

Cassidy tilted her head. "And what about you? Are you still figuring out what’s safe?"

I let that hang in the air for a beat before answering. "It’s just harder being back than I expected. I thought I could avoid him. That I could... compartmentalize it. Pretend I don’t remember how it felt to love him."

She gave me a look. "Lily. You don’t forget that kind of love."

I nodded. I knew she was right. But that didn’t make it easier.

"I didn’t even know he had a daughter until I got here."

Cassidy hesitated. "I heard he got injured. In college. His knee. It ended his football career."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"Just something somebody told me once.” She rolled her eyes, like whoever it was, irritated her. I didn’t have the energy to ask. “They said he blew it out during a scrimmage just a couple of months into college."

I felt like I’d been punched in the chest. My breath caught.

"So... I broke his heart. Then he lost everything."

"Stop," Cassidy said, voice firm. "Don’t do that. Don’t write a tragedy from one mistake. He has a good life. Family. Land. Bertie. And yes, have you seen him? He still looks like the cowboy centerfold of a very tasteful calendar."

I barked a laugh. It felt good. Normal.

Before she could press further, our waitress appeared. Emerson. Still as frosty as winter in Aspen.

"Lily," she said coolly. "Heard you were back. Explains the bad smell I guess.”

"Good to see you, too, Emerson," I said more politely than she deserved.

“I doubt that,” she hissed like I was another cat on her territory. “What do you want?”

“That’ll be two cobb salads please,” Cassidy said, as sweet as honey. “Oh, and hold the attitude if you don’t mind.”

Emerson opened her mouth, no doubt ready to spew some more vile comments, but Cassidy flicked her fingers.

“Chop, chop, we’re on a lunch break.” Emerson stook her nose in the air and stormed off. "Friend of yours?" Cassidy whispered.

"Let’s just say she didn’t host me a going-away party." I glanced over to watch Emerson practically throw our order at Missy May’s chef, Bernie. “She was another one who always wanted Nash, and I had him.”

We both laughed, and I glanced out the window.

And froze.

A tall figure in a tailored suit crossed the street, moving like he owned the pavement. That slick confidence. That smirk.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered.

Cassidy followed my gaze. "Is that?—"

"The Mayor," I confirmed. "Candyman himself. And no, I don’t need to say his name five times."

She reached across the table, fingers curling around mine. "He doesn’t get to haunt you anymore. You hear me?"

I nodded, but my chest still tightened.

"Hey," Cassidy said, trying to redirect, "Band night’s next Friday at Downtown. Come with me?"

I smiled. "Let me check my calendar."

I fished through my purse and froze.

"Oh no."

"What?"

I groaned. "My phone. I left it at the ranch."

Cassidy’s eyes widened. Then she grinned like the cat who’d just been handed a saucer of cream.

"Well now," she said. "That’s going to be one hell of a return trip."

And I already knew she was right.

Because walking back into that house again wasn’t just about a forgotten phone.

It was about unfinished stories. And the man who still lived in all of mine.