I smack the steering wheel with my palm and open my phone to bring it to my ear.
The first jarring ring on the other line makes me want to throw up, but I force it to stay.
It takes four painstaking rings before there’s an answer. “Hello?”
My chest tightens and a warm tear glides down my cheek. “Hi, Mom.”
Chapter 27
Noah
Grief is weird. It’s a combination of sadness strangled by guilt. Guilt I wasn’t there when my mom died.
When we first got her diagnosis, I was optimistic she could fight lung cancer. She was fairly young and healthy. After the failed chemotherapy and the doctors moved more toward making her comfortable, I was still optimistic that I would be there with her. That we’d have specific signs her time was coming to an end, and I could be prepared. I knew I’d be there in those final moments.
I wasn’t.
I’m not sure if it was the distraction of Lily the past few months, or maybe the joy Lily brought my mom that masked her truly deteriorating condition, but I didn’t see it. When Lily called … shocked and devastated is an understatement. Even though on paper I knew it was coming.
Max whines at the sliding glass door, and I let him out, only to watch him bolt down the porch steps and to the pasture fencing, attention on the new foal hiding behind his mom.
I unfold a sheet and snap it the air, watching it float down over the living room loveseat.
It’s been two weeks since the funeral, and every time I come over to my mom’s house, I don’t get much accomplished.
And Lily … evidence of her in this house has been scant. Her bed is always made, barely any food in the fridge, and I’m not sure she’s around much. She isn’t around much at all.
It’s my fault. I’m a mess. I scared her away. I wasn’t thinking clearly that day.
The grief was too much.
I made her feel like the problem, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Then what did I do? I decided I needed her, and all I could do was reach for her. To know she was there, and I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t gentle.Iwasn’t gentle. I didn’t mean to be rough, but the anger and pain in my chest bled into that line of lust and what came out was … something else entirely.
That isn’t me, is it? I’m not a brute dominating and demanding, yet the way she moaned—those breathy sounds she made when her backside was pressed into me—they shredded what little control I had left. She let me. She liked it. But I should’ve slowed down, should’ve seen her instead of burying myself in her, because it wasn’t just about wanting her. It was about not wanting to feel anything else, either.
Now, I can’t stop thinking I made her feel like she was an escape.
The thing is, she holds me together. There’s a steadiness to Lily, one that—when I think back to the first moment I met her—wasn’t there. I know Lily has put in the work, but I also like to think I had something to do with it as well—the friendship and connection we’ve fostered.
If my mother was here, she’d tell me to stop questioning and to break every rule in the book for Lily. I went to the diner the other day, though I stayed in my truck across the street. I watched her through the front windows floating around thediner refilling fountain drinks and taking orders. Pretty sure I freaked her out. She kept glancing at me with a nervous smile, probably wondering if I was going to snap or something.
We haven’t talked enough, and it crushes me. No breaks. Full weekends. Just the steady grind of workdays that bleed into each other over the last couple of weeks. Max does better when he’s working, so I’ve done my best to maintain my work schedule, but today I had to meet with the estate lawyer to talk about the plan going forward with the house.
As expected, the house has been willed to me, and I’m torn with what to do with it. I want to talk to Lily. Ineedto talk to her. It just seems there’s never the right time.
When would be a good time to tell her I want her to move in with me? Be it at the cabin or if she’s comfortable living here. We could renovate, make it our own.
I’d love to keep the home my mom sacrificed so much to secure for, but I’m not willing to sacrifice Lily for it. She wouldn’t want me to.
I sigh, flicking out another sheet to cover my mom’s worn recliner. I smile, thinking of her and Lily in here yelling theJeopardy!answers at the TV. Most nights after dinner, instead of cleaning up right away, Lily would go watch a game show with my mom and they’d complain the whole time. At first, I was shocked how they egged each other on, but I’d come to appreciate the heckling and the life they brought to this house.
I pause, realizing the memories flooding my mind today are all ones we’ve had in the past few months.
All of them with Lily.
Life didn’t truly start until she wandered into mine. She’s my future, and I’ve done a horrible job conveying that over the past few weeks. I could make excuses, pretend I’ve been a worthy partner, but the truth is, I failed in helping my mother, and I’m terrified of failing Lily. Will I fail with her? Have I already?
