Page 29 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

One Step At a Time – Jordin Sparks

Lily

I never thought I’d be driving back to the ranch so soon. Not after the last time I’d left with my heart in tatters and a goodbye that felt like it should’ve ended things. But here I was, pulling up the long driveway, thanks to Suki from the school office—matchmaker disguised as admin queen.

Apparently, Nash had offered to drop my phone off.

But Suki, with all the grace of a romcom sidekick, had decided I should come pick it up myself. Her words had been, "Closure is good for the soul, sugar." Closure. Right.

“Damn it, Suki,” I muttered, clutching the steering wheel as the familiar outline of the ranch house came into view. "You really ought to mind your own business."

I parked but didn’t get out. Instead, I sat with my hands still on the wheel, staring at the house that had once been the center of my world.

My stomach twisted as the memory of last night clawed back up—Nash’s voice, raw and broken; his eyes, full of something dangerously close to forgiveness.

Or maybe just longing. I didn’t trust myself to tell the difference anymore.

There was no point in checking the mirror. I looked like I’d been trampled by thirty glitter-covered kids and emotionally steamrolled by the ghosts of my past. I wasn’t here to impress anyone. And yet… my hands were shaking.

The ranch looked the same. Wide skies. Wind-ruffled fences. The porch I used to sit on with a lemonade in one hand and Nash’s fingers tangled in mine. The trees whispered like they remembered me, like they still carried the weight of secrets and soft promises.

I was so lost in the ache of it all, I didn’t hear the footsteps until a sharp rap made me jump.

"Shit!" I yelped.

Wilder’s face appeared in the window, grinning like a devil. He opened my door, letting in the scent of hay and cedar and summer.

"What are you doing, Lily? Not hiding from my big brother are you?"

"No. I’m here for my phone."

The warm air wafted in, invading the small space alongside the smells of the land and my stomach turned. I didn’t know if I could go inside and face him again. It was too hard. It was too familiar.

“I thought you might be.” He leaned his forearms on the door, sticking his head through the open window. “Nice car.”

It was not a nice car. It was all I could afford after Erik, and I split. Seeing as he made sure that I left the marriage with nothing except bitterness.

“It’s not really.”

He held onto the door and leaned back, stretching his arms out as he looked down at the side of the car. “What’s with the different color door? Did you have a bash or something?”

I didn’t, I bought it like that because…it was all I could afford.

“Yes, something like that.”

“Got to be honest, Lily, this thing is a heap of shit.” He suddenly disappeared, dropping down to examine my tire. “This is almost illegal, too.” He stood up and opened the door. “I’ll have a look round for something better for you. You can tell me the budget later.”

“Wilder, I…I don’t…I can’t…”

He waved me away. “You can’t keep riding around in this. It’s an insult to the invention of the automobile. Right, let’s get inside and get that phone of yours.”

“You could just?—”

“No, Lily, I couldn’t. You’re not a coward, now get inside the house. Nash is cooking dinner so you can watch the master at work.”

My heart dropped to my feet as I placed them on the driveway. I’d just thought I’d knock on the door, ask for my phone, get it back and go. At no point did I expect to go inside and watch Nash cooking. To have to watch Nash doing anything.

Wilder held his hand out. “Come on Miss. Jones, after you.”

He jerked a thumb toward the house, already turning away like he knew I’d follow.

And stupidly... I did.

Inside, the air was thick with laughter and the smell of something that made my stomach growl despite the nerves.

We rounded the corner into the kitchen, and I froze.

Bertie sat on the counter next to the stove, legs swinging. Nash was beside her, stirring a pot and smiling like the whole world was exactly right. Gunner leaned against the table, sipping a beer and watching them both with quiet amusement.

"And she’s so clever, Daddy! She writes all her own songs. Maybe she has, like, a million dollars!"

"That so?" Nash said, smiling at her. "A little pepper, please, munchkin."

She handed it to him like it was a royal crown. He turned the mill and said “when” at the exact moment she giggled.

It hit me in the chest. The domestic ease. The way they fit together. The way I had once fit there, too.

"Hey!" Wilder called, ruining the moment in the way only brothers could. "Look who’s come crawling back for her glittery phone."

Bertie’s head spun so fast it was a miracle she didn’t fall.

"Miss. Gray! Uncle Gunner, get me down! Hurry!"

Gunner chuckled and lifted her down like she was made of spun sugar. She darted across the room and threw herself around my legs.

"I missed you so much!"

Emotion hit me like a landslide. I bent to hug her. "I missed you, too, sweetheart."

"I feel way better today. I didn’t even puke! Only yesterday I kind of peed when I puked. And now I have a new wiggly tooth. Maybe two! I’ll be getting another visit from the Tooth Fairy."

She beamed. Pure joy. Untouched by the adult messes swirling around her.

“I think you could be right,” I agreed, remembering how excited I used to get when I lost a tooth. Oh, to be that young and innocent again.

“I am.” She nodded enthusiastically. “And Uncle Gunner said the Tooth Fairy has put her prices up.”

“Uncle Gunner is a stinky liar,” Nash muttered.

I met his gaze across the room, and his smile faded, replaced with something unreadable.

"You staying for dinner?" Wilder asked, ever the chaos agent.

"What? No, I just?—"

"Yes!" Bertie cut in, spinning to Nash. "She has to! Daddy, you made a lot, right? We’ll have leftovers!"

Nash didn’t speak, but his eyes locked with mine across the kitchen. They held something...tentative. Like maybe he was asking, not telling.

"You have to stay," Bertie insisted, tugging at my hand. "Please?"

Gunner grinned. "Wouldn’t be polite to say no now, would it?"

Wilder was already dragging a chair out like I was royalty. "Sit. Stay. We even got Cherry Coke, you still like that, right?"

My chest fluttered. Dangerous, dangerous ground.

"If you’re sure…"

"Bestest news ever," Bertie whispered.

“Come on,” Wilder urged. “Let’s get you situated at the table and then I’ll get you that drink.” I was quickly shuffled into the chair next to Bertie with a firm hand on my shoulder. “Sit and enjoy.” He winked at me and went over to the refrigerator.

“Good day at the office?” Gunner grinned as he propped his ass on the edge of the table. “You look like you kinda had a day.” He reached forward and wiped something off my cheek. When he showed it to me I saw that it was glitter. “You have a little red paint in your hair, too.”

“Oh no.” Bertie buried her head in her hands. “Did I miss arts and crafts? Sugar.”

“Bertie,” Nash warned without turning around.

“What? I said sugar not the other sh word. Not the one you three use.”

“Still means the same thing, munchkin.” His voice was a deep rumble but there was no hardness to it. In fact, his brand of grumpy tenderness made my stomach clench with want.

“Sorry, Daddy.” She then turned to me. “Did I miss arts and crafts Miss. Gray?”

Her dejection was coupled with a pouty lip, and she looked adorable.

So much like her Dad and I really didn’t want to rain on her parade.

“No, Bertie. It was math. We used Playing Cards. The glitter and paint was me and Miss. Turner making posters for the Summer Fair.” I lied, risking a glance at Nash. “It’s for a Kissing Booth.”

His back stiffened, but then I noticed a little shake of his shoulders and knew he was laughing.

“Ugh.” Bertie grimaced. “You won’t find me paying to kiss anyone.”

Wilder chuckled as he sat opposite me. “Give it a few years, Bertie.”

“Many years,” Nash added. “Many, many, years.”

“You need someone for that?” Gunner asked me. “Because Wilder will do it for you.”

“Or maybe," Bertie said with the wisdom of an eight-year-old philosopher, "Miss. Gray could work the kissing booth at the fair!"

Gunner whooped. "I’d pay to kiss her."

Before I could die on the spot, Nash’s voice cut through the laughter.

"If anyone’s kissing Miss. Gray," he said, his voice low and rough, "it’s not gonna be you."

Silence.

Time froze.

He cleared his throat. "I mean…I don’t think she should man the booth. Obviously."

Bertie rolled her eyes. "You’re so awkward, Daddy."

The room erupted in laughter. Even Nash chuckled, scrubbing a hand down his face.

And I...I felt like my heart had cracked open.

Dinner felt like an out-of-body experience. Bertie’s chatter filled the space, flitting from art projects to unicorn theories to the Tooth Fairy’s inflation rate. Gunner and Wilder bantered like only brothers could, while Nash stayed mostly silent, eating slowly, listening.

But every now and then, I caught his gaze on me. Warm. Sad. Full of questions.

Then, later, once the dishes were done and Bertie had been sent to get ready for bed, I stood. "I should go."

Gunner raised his beer. "Come back anytime."

Wilder smirked. "Or just leave more personal belongings behind."

But Nash didn’t say anything. Just stood there, arms folded, watching.

Having said my goodbyes, I stepped outside; the sky painted in twilight. Lavender scent on the breeze. Everything felt too quiet.

I was halfway to my car when I heard boots behind me.

"Lily."

I turned.

Nash stood there, my phone in his hand. "Again," he said, with a ghost of a smile.

I reached for it, and our fingers brushed. A spark. Real. Hot.

"You didn’t have to come all the way back," he said softly.

"I didn’t mind."

He stared at me, jaw tight. "Thank you. For yesterday. For everything."

The words didn’t sound casual. They sounded like the start of something.

"You’re welcome," I said.

We stood there, not speaking, not moving, just... feeling.

Finally, he nodded. "Drive safe."

"I will."

But I didn’t want to go.

And judging by the look in his eyes, he didn’t want me to either.

And that? That was the most terrifying part of all because leaving him standing there in the dusk felt harder than anything I’d done in a long, long time.